#goto seiji angst

[kamyru]

I absolutely love the way your brain works to come up with different ideas♥︎

Anytime I see you've posted, I'm always excited to see what sort of scenario or idea you've come up with this time!😊

I'm really looking forward to what you are going to create and bless us with this year! ♥︎♥︎

Do you have a favourite fandom/series that triggers your ideas more frequently? Or do you think of ideas and then select characters that you think best suit the scenario?

You're making me jump of happiness at 2 in the morning (after my mom told me to do something with my messed up sleeping schedule). Hearing something like this from such a talented writer as you is a wonderful way of starting the new year.

I also love your scenarios and every time I see a notification that you have posted something, I can't stop myself from checking it immediately.

Actually, it depends on the type of post. If it's the type where I enumerate the characters near a description, usually I come up with the idea first, and then choose the characters. If it's a scenario/short, or particular headcanon, it's the character and their story that make me come up with the ideas.

There are some characters that are easier for me to write about, because I like to torture them or make them softer: Ayumu Shinonome, Hyogo Kaga, Jun Araki, Munechika Takado, and Kuranosuke Kiba. Most of my unwritten angst or hurt/comfort ideas go for them. If I want to write family bliss, beside them I have other characters that are kind and soft in the cannon: Toshiaki Kijima, Hideki Ishigami, Seiji Goto, Toshiki Kasumi, Shu Hasunuma. And then, there's Takaomi Tsugaru that is a wonder of a character and I can use him in literally everything. So, in these characters' cases, I already have some tropes that I know can work for them.

For the rest, I either have to get in a very specific mood, be obsessed of them at the moment (Daimon Togo, I'm lookin at you), or have a request for them.

And, if it's a situation that I write about, without it being a scenario (like my post about fainting MCs, or Public Safety guys and their tetanus vaccines), it's a situation in their stories that makes me remember other similar situations and post things like this, where I say God knows what.

Rarely, but it also happens from time to time, it's a real life situation that inspires me to write. There are some posts that I don't have the courage to post because I don't think they are interesting enough and are just me rumbling about random trauma that I have had and how it can be relatable for Voltage Inc characters (I tried to write a post about me finding Yosuke Sagara's trauma with not eating other people's food one of the most relatable things I have ever read about in Voltage, but I deleted the draft every single time.) Maybe I'll start writing more of these types if I find a way to transform them more in something about the character and less about me and if anyone is interesting in my rumblings.

So, yes... That's a short story of how I usually create my posts.

Thank you for listening to my Ted-Talk.

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

MJS Aftermath - SIX FEET The Final Part

It was in silence Miho drove through dim backstreets two nights later, though Kurosawa prattled unnecessary reassurances in her ears through her tiny earbud radio.

“I’m fine, Toru,” she muttered for the seventh time. “It’s like the Chief said - the mole won’t hurt me until he or she is sure the information that might incriminate them cannot fall into the hands of any authority.”

“Still,” he grumbled, in his place of hiding near Miho’s destination. “I feel ill thinking you may be at the mercy of this unscrupulous creature.”

“Shut up, Kurosawa,” Kaga snapped. “Keep comms clear.”

And for once, Miho was glad to hear the acid of Kaga’s voice.

“Don’t worry your heads about this,” Miho told them. “This idiot won’t know what hit ‘em.”

She was early, as was part of the plan, and so was Namba, who she was there to meet and pass on the package she had only just received - presumably sent on the day of Goto’s death.

It had to be somewhere quiet, somewhere other people would not get involved should violence break out, and despite her bravado, Miho actually shuddered a little at the gloom of the dockside warehouse. No one in sight, no one to catch stray bullets, except for the small group of instructors Namba had enlisted for the operation.

Her steps sounded loudly against the moist asphalt, bouncing off concrete walls and worn, metal shipping containers. Slowly, she made her way around the building toward a single door, trepidation growing, twisting knots in her stomach she obstinately refused to show in her expression.

“That’s quite far enough,” a raspy, gravelly voice asserted, and Miho flinched then froze.

The kind of voice that did far too much yelling.

“Chief?” she queried, though she knew it wasn’t him.

“We have contact,” Namba’s voice hissed in Miho’s ear.

“I should be,” the man’s voice came again, oblivious to the voices in Miho’s head.

Slowly, she hazarded to turn her head.

The outline was average except perhaps for the hair, messy waves of ink from crown to shoulders in a decidedly unkempt manner.

“Instructor Nagita?” Miho blinked, mostly for the benefit of the others in case they did not have a clear enough line of sight. “I am supposed to be meeting Chief Namba here. Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

Playing dumb was not Miho’s strong suit, but she tried just the same.

It was then he pulled out a gun - not how Miho would have played it given she’d just given him the opportunity to play along, but anyone who picked a fight with Goto and his people couldn’t really be considered smart.

“Don’t play ignorant with me! Give me the contents of the package Goto sent you,” he demanded roughly, inching a little closer to her, and Miho shuffled back a little, away from the warehouse wall.

“I will shoot you,” he insisted, waving the firearm a little erratically, before a gunshot rang out.

Miho’s breath stalled, her chest clenched and her gaze fixed on the slumping figure of Nagita, who a few seconds later was face down. Trembling, Miho touched her hand to her cheek - wet, warm, fresh blood transferred to her fingers.

“What…?” she stammered out, as a new form stepped from the shadows and claimed responsibility for Nagita’s murder.

“Is that… Chiba?” Soma said through comms.

“The student?” Subaru sought in clarification. “We should move now!”

“Hold,” Namba instructed. “If there are even students involved in this, we don’t know who else may be involved.”

“That student just killed an instructor,” Subaru pointed out. “You think he’s going to hesitate to kill Miho?”

“It’s fine, okay?” Miho breathed, holding both her hands up in front of her. “Just… relax.”

“Kurai knew Nagita didn’t have the guts to follow through,” Chiba announced, his voice contrastingly soft and boyish considering the situation. “But this is my way out of mediocrity, out of obscurity. No one will ever overlook me again.”

“Keep him talking, Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami encouraged. “We’re converging on your position.”

“Well, I think I can say,” Miho began carefully. “If I had met you, before now, I would not have overlooked you… and if I knew your name…?”

“Chiba Daisuke,” he announced proudly - obviously not a seasoned criminal even with fresh blood on his hands.

“And, Mr. Chiba, you ah… you’re working for Kurai then? An enforcer by the looks of it - it looks good on you.”

“Not for, with,” he corrected.

“Oh, obviously,” Miho rushed. “Man of your bearing, I suppose, takes orders from no one… right?”

“Including you, Mrs. Goto,” he smiled, so innocently it seemed so ridiculous he held her at gun-point. “It’s a shame, because I actually liked Instructor Goto…”

“He’s gearing up to kill her too, I’m moving in!” Subaru barked.

“... but,” Chiba continued. “I can’t allow you to blow my cover, so I’m going to have to…”

“FREEZE!” Ishigami shouted, appearing dramatically, and simultaneously Miho let out a squeak as Subaru snatched her around the waist and put himself between her and Chiba.

“Don’t move!” Kaga added, emerging with Soma, their own guns drawn.

“Reach for the sky, scumbag!” Kurosawa exclaimed, and no doubt they all would have facepalmed were the circumstances not so serious.

“It’s over, Chiba,” Namba told him, and indeed, Chiba was now surrounded. “Put down the gun so no one else gets hurt.”

“Get her out of here,” Ishigami commanded of Subaru, and he did not have to be asked twice.

“Hold it!” Chiba barked, uncharacteristically sharp. “Move and I’ll shoot!”

“And in which universe do you think you’ll walk away from this if you do?” Kaga scoffed. “You fire, we fire, and you’re dead.”

“I… I’ll still take one of you with me,” Chiba declared, no longer sounding so confident, his gun hand wavering a little.

In a dramatic crash that blocked Miho and Subaru from Chiba’s line of sight, the door Miho had earlier been heading for opened, and a body tackled the murderous student.

The gun skidded across the ground and was quickly scooped up by Soma, while the others jumped in to restrain the young man.

“Come on,” Subaru urged, but Miho would not be moved, transfixed on the fray of arms and legs.

And she gasped when Chiba was dragged to his feet and cuffed, because with order restored, Miho could see who it was that had intervened.

“The hell are you going here?” Subaru growled, glaring at the man.

“Did you really think I was going to allow you to put my wife in such danger and not oversee her safety myself?” Goto huffed, straightening his clothes.

But his eyes looked beyond his friend to Miho’s blood speckled face, her tear-brimming, lip-quivering expression that broke his heart all over again.

“Get going, dead-man,” Kaga snorted curtly. “You can’t be here.”

“Seiji,” Miho whispered thickly, fighting Subaru’s grip on her unsuccessfully.

“Go!” Subaru growled, grappling Miho as she struggled. “I’ll take care of her.”

“I’ll take care of you if you don’t let me GO!” Miho shrieked, a wildcat now, flailing.

With a broken look, Goto began to back away, mouthing one word before he turned and ran.

“Soon.”

The aftermath dragged on well through the night and into the morning, and at nine Miho was sitting on the couch in Ishigami’s office - still pouting.

“Looks like you could use this,” Kaga declared, dropping a steaming mug of coffee into Miho’s line of sight.

Her eyes rolled up to look at him skeptically.

“If Ishigami sees you in here, you’re toast,” she declared, reaching for the mug… which he then moved out of her reach. “Do that again and you won’t need to worry about him.”

“Oh yeah?” Kaga smirked, holding his ground. “Right now, I could take you with just my little finger.”

“I suggest you keep you little finger, and all other appendages, away from Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami said coldly from the doorway, and Miho used the opportunity to relieve Kaga of the mug. “And remove yourself from my office.”

“So you can move in on her instead? You’ve got no chance, four-eyes,” Kaga dropped, shoving past him on the way out.

Silence settled in the wake of his exit, until Miho sat back down.

“How are you holding up?” Ishigami asked carefully.

“Still mad,” she replied waspishly. “You could have given me a minute with him.”

“As I said before, every moment he breaks cover is a chance for Kurai to discover his deception,” he pointed out, and not for the first time.

Noisily, Miho slurped her coffee.

“A counsellor from the Department will be in contact in the next few days.”

“I don’t need counselling, Ishigami,” Miho grumped. “I need my hus…”

“... husband back, yes I understand,” he filled in, nodding. “And I am sure he feels as anxious for this operation to be as over as you.”

To this, Miho grunted, sculled the rest of the coffee - ignoring the burn - and rolled her neck.

“I’m going home,” she announced.

“Ichiyanagi will drive you,” he informed her. “Chief Namba and I agree you should have protection until such time as the Kurai are neutralised, just in case they…”

“No,” she disagreed.

“I’m actually not giving you a choice,” Ishigami retorted, finally putting his foot down. “You insisted on involving yourself, and now you will put up with the consequences.”

Her jaw worked, but she wasn’t so unreasonable that she wouldn’t accept responsibility for her own actions.

“Fine, I’m leaving now,” she grumped, grabbed her bag, and stalked out.

“So, you’re not going to talk to me forever now?” Subaru sniffed, following Miho up the path to her front door.

Of course - to prove the point - Miho did not respond.

As she slipped the key into the lock, barking greeted her, and she had to grit her teeth not to allow exhausted tears to spill. Ishigami and Kaga bounced up against her the moment she cleared the door, and she gladly sat on the floor to let the greyhound wiggling soothe her weary heart.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Subaru said, walking past the tangle unscathed while Miho snuggled her face against soft, sleek doggy heads.

“Daddy will be home soon,” she whispered to her ‘kids’, before struggling back up.

She needed sleep.

A week ticked by.

Then another.

And while the longing to see Goto never waned, Miho had rather gotten used to having a house-maid-chauffeur-butler-heavy-lifter-emergency-tampon-buying dog-walker. Still, she craved a little alone time, and hatched a plan to give Subaru the slip.

Ishigami and Kaga, complicit in her crime, ran happily beside her as she snuck out through her back yard’s fence. When she had taken enough twists and turns to ensure even a seasoned tracker would have trouble picking up her trail, she headed for somewhere her poochies could play and she could relax.

Even though the weather was cooling, Miho was determined to sit on a very significant patch of grass in the park where it all started. The greyhounds ran laps around her as she ruminated. She pictured the picnic rug upon which they had laid that first ‘test drive’, smiled as she remembered how uptight he’d been in the beginning, how awkward - then grinned when she recalled how he’d surprised her in the bushes.

Heavily, she dragged herself up and headed toward the toilet block, just as she had that day; but she was disappointed when there was no Goto to drag her out of sight and defile her in the best possible way.

“Fuck,” she growled, her mood darkening.

“I’d better do something about this frustration of yours,” a familiar voice said at her back, causing Miho to freeze. “Or you might fall into the arms of that apron wearing hooligan.”

Miho trapped the air in her lungs, afraid that if she drew breath he would disappear; but at the same time, she had to know.

“You’re not going to run away again, are you?” she gasped out, and though she longed to throw herself at him, her body was paralysed.

“I”m sorry I had to do that, Miho,” he apologised, face patterned with profound contrition. “But I’m here now, because I couldn’t stand it anymore. Even if the Kurai kill me tomorrow, it’ll have been worth it.”

In the background, Ishigami and Kaga bounded around the park, amusing themselves, but everything that wasn’t Goto faded from Miho’s world. When his arms closed around her, she drew in a deep breath, filling her senses with the scent of him. Every fibre of her being sang out in joy and relief, and her muscles turned mush.

“If they hurt you,” she whimpered against his neck, finally locking him in her own embrace, “I will burn Tokyo to the ground until every last one of them is destroyed.”

“I believe it,” he laughed, tightening his grip.

Nothing felt as good to him, as having her heart beating against his chest.

“Come on,” he urged, pulling away far enough to walk without stumbling, tugging her toward the bushes.

“Uhh, Ishigami and Kaga will wonder where I am,” she exhaled, but in all honesty it was amazing she could form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

“I should never have let you name them that,” Goto hissed, pressing her back against a familiar tree trunk and slithering his fingers beneath her jacket.

“It was… Kurosawa,” Miho protested weakly, coiling her arms around his neck and dragging her fingernails through his hair.

“Stop saying other men’s names,” he growled against her throat, nipping it enough to cause Miho to squirm, sharp little stings giving way to tingling warmth and pleasure. “I have missed the taste of you.”

“I’ve missed being tasted,” she sighed, directing his face back to hers. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I you,” he smiled, straightening her dishevelled jacket and taking her face either side. “Nothing is so precious to me.”

A little confused they were both still fully dressed, Miho frowned, despite his declaration.

“But you’re not done yet, are you?” she forced out, the quietest of squeaks.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, resting his forehead against hers, brushing her moist cheeks with his thumbs. “If I don’t finish this, many people will be in danger, including you - so I have to see this out.”

She knew he wouldn’t abandon his job, his responsibility to the people he vowed to protect, the law he vowed to uphold - that was the man she loved and married.

“But,” he continued, even as Miho wept, “when it’s over, I’m going to request full time assignment at the academy, no more undercover.”

“Ohh,” she exhaled, lightly nuzzling her nose against his. “But you would miss it, Lieutenant Goto, it’s as much a part of you as I am… just… promise…”

“Anything,” he pledged. “Absolutely anything.”

“Never die again,” she pouted, pecking his lips with desperate, quick kisses.

“Miho…”

“You said anything!” she pointed out smugly, rubbing herself against him, trying to make it as difficult for him to leave her as possible.

“Mmm,” he groaned. “Then I suppose I’ll have to live forever. But for now, I have to go.”

When he kissed her now, it was a kiss designed to convince her, once and for all, if any doubt lingered, that he was alive and hers. He would return to her safely, and they would be happy.

The joyful, hysterical bark-whining of Ishigami and Kaga, slammed into the moment, as surely as the dog slammed into the back of Goto’s legs. They proceeded to bounce energetically until he crouched, and then they clambered up his body, over his shoulders, his back, his chest, licking all the while.

“Come on kids,” Miho sniffled, untucking their leashes from her belt-loop and clicked each to their collars. “Let Daddy get back to work so he can come home to us.”

It took some serious strength to drag the dogs away from Goto, and it was with reluctance that he stepped back.

“And I will come home to you: soon.” The end... for now.

[voltage-vixen]

“How do you tell someone that the reason you’re sad is because you’re in love with them?” (Goto (HLITF) Angst)

The rain poured down as MC walked back to the dorms. It was the middle of the night, and she was supposed to be spending the night at Goto’s place, but she just couldn’t take it anymore. MC had always known, that Goto would hold a special place in his heart for his ex-partner, but him calling out her name in the middle of them making love was more than any respectable woman would be able to put up with. He didn’t even realize the error of his ways, until the MC had pushed him off her, and started looking for her clothes scattered around his bedroom floor. Neither of them said a word to each other, as she dressed herself, and let herself out of the apartment.

She had reached the academy and had almost made it back to her apartment when she had run into her friend Chiba. “MC what happened! Are you alright? You should go take a bath before you catch cold.” Without giving her a chance to respond, Chiba ushered her back into her apartment and ran the bath for her, while she changed out of her wet clothes. While she was in the bath, Chiba cooked her something to eat. He didn’t have any idea of what happened, but he could tell by looking at her something had upset her. MC emerged from the bathroom and Chiba sat her down in front of the hot food he quickly had thrown together. The two of them sat in silence eating until MC had spoken up. “How do you tell someone that the reason you’re sad is because you’re in love with them? Why couldn’t I be enough for him?”

The reality of the situation had finally set in and the tears started flowing out of her. She broke down and told Chiba the whole story of what happened. Chiba was furious. How could he do something so cruel to such a wonderful woman? Any man would be lucky to have someone like MC in their life. He wrapped her up in a hug and held on tight. “Forget him MC. He doesn’t deserve you,” he whispered while stroking her hair, “Everything is going to be alright.” Somehow MC felt better hearing those words from Chiba. Meanwhile, Goto had just parked his car and started to head up to MC’s room, when he saw the scene taking place from her window. Chiba was embracing MC, and she was returning his embrace. At that moment, Goto knew he blew it. With a sad smile he quietly said, “I hope you’re happy with him and he can give you everything I couldn’t.” He walked back to his car and drove off into the night.

[mihoandjazz-blog]

MJS Aftermath - 6 Feet: Part 1

Thought the MJS Marriage Matchmaking series was over? Yeah me too, but apparently it’s not done with me just because Miho and Jazz have found their soulmates.

Join the continuation of the series HERE.

‘Aftermath’ takes place several months after Miho and Goto are married and have moved into their own home. Those who don’t remember various revelations from their wedding fic, Jazz is visibly pregnant now, and her marriage to Kuni is public knowledge.

For new readers things might prove a little tricky with my tumblr still on lock down, but I’m in talks with Jazz about turning it into entirely OC, so it may all get reposted on the wordpress at some stage.

[hotcocosharing]

Lose To Win Chapter 22: Can You Handle It?

Title: Lose To Win Chapter 22 Fandom: Kiss By The Baddest Bidder & Her Love In The Force Rated: Drama, Thriller, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mystery? MPD’s OC: Mika HIJIKATA KBTBB’s OC: Mia SAKATA Characters: Goto, Kaga, Shuichi, Eisuke, Soryu, Mamoru, Baba, Ota

Summary: Soryu, Mika & Kaga had threesome, (click here to read) then one headed back to Eisuke while the other followed his target.Unpleasant surprises keep coming their ways till blood is spilled. Soryu’s shot and Kaga left him to bleed (to death, sort of). Now Eisuke watches his friend being operated by a total stranger in the middle of the VIP suite, this trip is not going well for them? Are they losing before the game has even begun?

Tagging: adrienneloves so you’d know what happens to Soryu and Mika. silver-red-rose & hifftn who’ve always been here for me :’( Thank you! I know this series is taking forever and if you’ve missed my feeds or simply want to know what happens next, let me know and I’ll tag you. Background: Mika went to the Tres Spades Hotel under Eisuke’s request. (Order) and led to seeing her ex- Hyogo Kaga. With Jin Namba’s persuasion, Eisuke agrees to work with Public Safety, going on an eight days cruise trip with Kaga, Goto and Mika. What kind of mystery and danger await? You have no idea!

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ Chapter 1: The Reunion Chapter 2: RSVP Chapter 3: Recharge Chapter 4: Welcome Back Chapter 5: Decision Of A Lifetime Chapter 6: Our Story Chapter 7: Stress Release Chapter 8: Play Thing Chapter 9: What The Three Words Mean Chapter 10: A Real Man Chapter 11: The CEO Chapter 12: Boarding Chapter 13: What Did You Wish For? Chapter 14: Don’t Tease Me Chapter 15: One Hell Of A Night Chapter 16: Feeling Lucky? Chapter 17: Left In The Past Chapter 18: Poker Face Chapter 19: To Victory Chapter 20: Wish Comes True Chapter 21: Last Apology

Chapter 22:  Can You Handle It?

“He’s alive, isn’t he?” Kaga’s appearance isn’t exactly welcome at this moment but his comment just makes it worse.

“You piece of shit!!! You left him there to die!”

All you could see is red, the blood of Soryu Oh and the rage boiling inside. You are beyond furious, shaking with fury, betrayal, and disbelief. Like being smashed by a fifty-foot high wave, unprepared. You couldn’t have seen it coming, Kaga is reckless, sure but he’s not that ruthless. Not when it comes to human lives.

“So he’s alive then.”

“Oh my god, are you even hearing yourself?”

“No, are you hearing yourself? I WAS DOING MY GOD DAMN JOB!”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you leave him there to bleed to death!?”

“Fuck sake! He was fine when I left! And he’s still breathing, isn’t he?”

You raise your hand and slap Hyogo Kaga across the face as hard as you could. A large red hand-print is now evident on his cheek, the two of you stare at each other. No one else in the room at all bothers to say another word, let out a snort or even hint what they have been thinking once Soryu has finished the surgery. Luke had returned to the suite in time and joined Mariana so Eisuke was relieved that his best friend wasn’t going to die in the middle of high sea. The blood transfusion had weakened you slightly but not nearly enough to get over your disappointment.

“What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with you! You’ve gone soft! If his life could save the rest of the people on this ship, I would personally end it without a blink of an eye!”

Your hand raises again, Kaga grabs and twists it a little, his voice booms through the spacious suite. 

“It’s not my problem that you two fucked or the air head is in love with you. Don’t blame this on me! I’m a public safety officer, who the hell are you!?”

Kaga’s POV

Today is one of those shitty days I particularly hate, total bust at work, man down and the ex-fiancée who I’ve recently reconciled with now wishes me dead. To top it off, I see a man waiting outside my room with an angry expression on his face.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

It’s a relief that Mr. Hijikata couldn’t raise his voice, I honestly don’t think I’d take another meltdown without punching someone in the face.

“Your action could have killed my client’s child!” I am about to swipe my key card and continue this unwanted conversation inside but the door swings open and Soryu’s puppy glares at us.

“Get lost! You are not welcome here!” Throwing my bags out the door, the young mobster quickly shuts it to our faces.

Eiji san looks sympathetic for a second before his stern expressions returns. “I’ve warned you how dangerous they are, stop jeopardizing cases and people lives. Kaga, you are not a hero. Stay away from my client.” As if things couldn’t get any worse, I pull out a pack of cigarette to only find it empty. “Oh fucking great!” “Here.” I turn to see the lazy detective offering me the one thing I crave most, “I take it that you have no place to stay? If you ain’t gonna complain about sleeping on the couch then this way.”

Kishi hasn’t said much once I’m in his suite, not that I’m in any mood to talk. “Well, keep this pack and help yourself with the mini bar. I’m gonna head back, I’d lay low if I were ya, kid. You ain’t exactly popular right now and I seriously don’t wanna deal with an actual dead body just yet.”

With a firm pat on my shoulder, he lets out a loud yawn and leaves. The headache of Namba nagging is not comparable to my rage that’s on the edge of erupting. Whoever is responsible has a hell lot to pay and they’ll be sorry for ever crossing me.

The room is filled with dead silence after Kaga has stormed out of the suite and you choose to cool down by the balcony before calling Jin.

Goto has already filled him in but you’re not happy with how the mission has gone, truth be told, no one is. 

“Keeping him out of trouble was one of your missions.” Jin says bluntly, “If we get caught up in the rights and wrongs, we lose track of the real issue.”

“The real issue is he investigates alone without sharing important information and almost causes a team member’s life!” You try to hold onto your temper, this isn’t Jin or anyone’s fault but Kaga’s.

However, Jin’s gentle reminder backfires. “We are public safety, it’s not up to us to question morality.“ 

"I am in the MPD!”

Silence.

Is he frowning? Scratching his chin likes he always does while searching for answers? “You were one of our best Mika, one of us. I remember who you were and what you’re capable of but do you? Or running away for the past few years have completely changed you?”

“You’re fighting desperately not to realize that I’m right, you don’t want to see it. This isn’t about Kaga or who the shooter is, you have made things personal.” He goes on quickly, “I wouldn’t put you on the mission if I don’t think you’d handle it.”

”You are upset, I get that and if you can’t do it, fine, withdraw from the case now or else do your job. So can you handle it or not, Mika?“

Damn him, Jin is right. You don’t want to think, the thought of losing Soryu Oh for good has terrified you. Working in homicide isn’t pretty but you don’t go to work every day worrying if any of your partners are going to make it or convince yourself that it’s alright because that’s what they sign up for. As much as you love preventing crime, it takes tremendous sacrifice to be a Public Safety Officer. Facing dead bodies and catching murderers by day with occasional one night stands by night leads a much easier life.

But Jin’s right, he often is. You’ve been running away for years and yet fate has put you back on spot, facing your fear, pushing your limits and perhaps this really is your true calling whether you like it or not.

Eisuke’s World

Meanwhile back in Eisuke’s suite, the next phase of the party is about to begin. Mia sees a black envelope in Eisuke’s hand and peeks from his side. 

{ If choosing to accept this invitation by signing below you agree to the trade of your most precious belongings for a confirmed seat at our next exclusive event- THE AUCTION. This debt will be collected at our convenience. }

An icy hot shudder runs down Mia’s spine and she’d feel the blood draining from her pale face, her breath stops short with her heart stutters a wild, frantic convulsion in her chest. 

Just how far is this going and when will it stop? She couldn’t stomach another surgery on the cruise or see anymore dying body, especially when one could be Eisuke so easily. 

She wouldn’t be able to live without him, he is her whole world so there’s only one thing left to do. She is going to stop him from going to the auction, putting an end to this nonsense before the mission costs her the love of her life.

NOTES: Is it time for Eisuke to lose? We shall see, got smut coming so I personally look forward to that ;)

[nitelotus]

My Masterpost

Because of a recent question on one of my old fics, I thought it might be beneficial for new (and old) followers of mine to list my fics. I do have drabble requests and small drabbles that are not listed here (too lazy XD). 

Thank you for all your likes, comments and reblogs. It keeps me and my muse alive. Currently, I am focusing on growing my business as a Virtual/Personal Assistant to romance authors so that’s why all I could do right now are quick requests and drabbles. In spite of that, thank you for the follows and the support!

You can find my Masterpost here. 

Here lie the fanfiction posts:

Kissed by the Baddest Bidder:

One Shot:

Three Lines (Baba Mitsunari x OC) : TW: Suicide, rape and foul language

Trade Off (Ota Kisaki x OC) (Fluff)

Be My Last (Eisuke Ichinomiya x OC)/ (Baba Mitsunari X OC) / Mamoru Kishi x OC) (Angst)

Christmas Memories (KBTBB x OC) (Fluff)

(2nd) Chances (Mamoru Kishi x Valogirl) (Angst) TW: HInt of suicide

Multi-chaptered:

Blindspot (Eisuke Ichinomiya x OC x Soryu OH) (On going): Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3

Drabble:

Baba Writing Prompt

Metro PD: Close to you

One Shot:

Please Come Back (to Me): (Yutaka Tennoji x OC) (Angst) (Off-story from my RP First Steps)

Murphy’s Twin (Yutaka Tennoji x OC) (Fluff)

Multi-chaptered:

At Stake (Yutaka Tennoji x OC x Hiroshi Kirisawa) (Angst/Smut): Part 1/ Part 2

Crossovers

One Shot:

Remember Me, Choose Me (Hiroshi Kirisawa x OC x Kunihiko Aikawa) (Mystery/Angst/Crossover) - MPD: Close to you/My Forged Wedding

Collection of One Shots/Drabbles:

The Daddy Chronicles:

Operation: Get Papa (Hiroshi Kirisawa from Metro PD: Close to You)

Birthday One-shot:

Till Domo Do Us Part (Seiji Goto from My Sweet Bodyguard)

[reinasescape]

Voltage Men at a Glance: Seiji Goto (HLITF)

Trope: Mentor, Kuudere Weakness: Hot (temperature) foods, Cleaning

For other reviews: Voltage Men at a Glance

When you first get started at the academy, you immediately fall into a case of his. You go undercover against anarchist that threaten the safety of Japan. And when you botch it up, like any rookie, rather than scold you, he supports you. For the academy setting, Seiji is a perfect fit. While he has high standards and expectations of you, he also understands the limitations of a student/cadet, you find out how nurturing he can be. Despite his strict no nonsense attitude, when work and study bog you down, he's there as your breath of fresh air.

As you work together, you see his brand of clumsy care as well as the man behind the "ace lieutenant." As his aide, you help him find a better balance in his work life, making him more "human" as Instructor Soma would say. Like you, Seiji didn't coast through the force on connections. From an equally rural region, he's come this far based on his admiral work ethic. He's the one that gives you courage when you learn that you entered the academy on less than honest terms. It makes you understand that while you might not have gotten here based on your own merits, you can make up for it with more than enough work. He sees himself as your equal and isn't as comfortable being called "instructor" outside the classroom because he knows it's not a permanent thing. Rather, he's willing to be there to help you grow as a person and a detective.

Seiji gives you goal to strive to become, and he does become that ideal. Not only because he is very good at what he does but because he is human too. He has his less than admiral thoughts and moments, mirroring the question that comes up in this line of work: what is justice? And when the lines get personal, what are you fighting for?

Overall, I did expect his route to have more angst and heartache given that Seiji is known to have a dead "someone" in his past, no matter what type of route. I was hoping to see more PTSD or other things I would attribute to having lost someone on the job, but that's my take from it. Their relationship is still very young, so I can't rate their romantic relationship, but I think they build a very good foundation. It still doesn't put HLITF at the top of my Voltage lists. If you can ignore the glaring disregard for how undercover work actually works and some of the police type plot points, Seiji and the MC have a good relationship. I don't find that the plot is stronger or weaker than Jin's route, but that's due to the lack of research on the writer's part than the characters themselves.

Personally, I'm going to look into getting his MSB route, and hope that it delivers.

Recommendation: For budget otoge gamers, I wouldn't recommend this at full price. If I had to pick one story I liked more than any of the others, it'd have to be "Falling in Love." Once again, it's always worth getting the right answers to get the secret stories, but I wouldn't go out of my way to buy them.

No moments really jumped out at me that I would reread again. I gave it one solid run, and we'll have to see how long it'll take me to revisit. Maybe after I've seen everything else that HLITF has to offer.

Buy Me a Coffee

Commission Info

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

MJS Aftermath - SIX FEET Part 3

While humble had never been easy for Miho, she had much bowing to do when she eventually went home to face Goto’s family. Though difficult, her apologies were sincere, for she had no desire to hurt them or compound their suffering, even if they did not agree with her point of view. A compromise was struck, and though she would not concede her belief that Goto was still alive, she accepted no accord would be met and did not pursue further attempts to convince them the whole funeral thing was a sham.

She resigned herself to being the most supporting daughter and sister she could be, though Issei seemed unsurprisingly angry at her still.

Shinichi, Seiji’s father, would have liked traditional Shinto customs observed, but the circumstances being what they were, there were several steps concerning the corpse that could simply not be performed as one might with a fully intact body.

Still, Miho returned to the Goto family residence out of Tokyo to help in the preparation of food offerings; her only real contribution that all offerings be made at a reasonably cool temperature, the way Seiji would have been able to eat it. But her resolve did not waver.

As the process proceeded toward the wake, she’d had several follow-up conversations with Liana, who had pledged to use her journalistic sources to investigate what current criminal organisations within Japan would have access to highly restricted flammables, despite knowing her husband would not be impressed if he found her meddling. So far, she had come up empty, though several organised crime groups had certainly been more active of late; Liana did not keep this from Miho or Jazz, the latter who was staying in accommodations nearby to continue offering Miho her support.

On the day of the wake, everyone visibly donned the darkness of their grief, and Miho robotically greeted mourners to accept their condolences.

She wanted to shout out how pointless all their words were, their tears, when Seiji was still alive somewhere – not a pile of bones awaiting further cremation – but she kept it buried behind a stoic, if tired mask.

Priests prayed and prayed and prayed, before mourners were fed, but Miho had no appetite. Under Subaru and Jazz’s watchful eyes, she remained quiet, while those who didn’t know her very well at all whispered about how strong the wife of a police officer had to be, how brave she was.

“This is normal, right?” Subaru whispered to Jazz as the pair observed Miho’s blank expression.

Her eyes were directed at the coffin, but there was nothing to see in her gaze at all.

“Miho’s never normal,” Jazz replied just as quietly. “And you know she’s only doing this for Goto’s family; she still won’t believe he’d dead.”

“I guess, maybe I can’t blame her, after that whole thing with her ex-husband’s faked death and all,” Subaru noted, but he was scowling – after all, this was difficult for him too. “But, how long do you think this will last?”

Jazz tilted her head a little as she considered her best friend, then looked up into Subaru’s face.

“I think you know her well enough now,” she said. “If she believes something, no one will sway her.”

“So, what do we do?” he scowled, as people began to line up to say their final farewells.

“We just be here for her, if she needs us,” Jazz shrugged, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “For her, this isn’t nearly over.”

Shinichi first, Haruka then Issei, then it was Miho’s turn to stand before Goto’s coffin and bid farewell to the man she loved more than her own life.

It seemed silence fell, a thick blanket of tense expectation for those who knew how she felt; but when she spoke it was so softly only the closest ears could have overheard.

“I will never let you go,” she whispered, glaring at the coffin intensely. “And when I find you, I’m going to kick your ass for putting me and your family through this.”

That was his send off, and when all had passed and said their goodbye, the immediate family travelled to the crematorium.

It was ironic – Miho even wanted to laugh at the idea a man reduced to bone would be cooked all over again in the name of tradition – but she managed to hold it in.

Instead, she took some time alone before they all returned to the house, staring across the rows of headstones, of mausoleums.

“Not today,” she grated under her breath, jaw clenched as she was struck with an overwhelming pang of loneliness.

“Mrs. Goto,” Kaga said, clearing his throat. “I was going to congratulate you on whatever you said to unsettle Captain Ishigami,” he continued, his voice low. “But there will be more appropriate times for that.”

Miho hadn’t had as much to do with Kaga as she had Goto’s direct superior, but she knew the man was callous, or clumsy, or a mixture of the two – enough to not be offended by his awkward, misplaced dig at Ishigami.

“Tell me, Captain,” Miho said, her voice thick, her watery eyes fixed on the distance. “Do you believe it? What you’ve seen on your surveillance tapes? What you’ve heard, read in reports? Would Seiji be so incompetent as to fall prey to a death and make his wife a widow?”

For a man rarely at a loss for words, Kaga’s lips parted but no sound emerged. Unusually, he seemed to be thinking carefully before speaking.

“Would Lieutenant Goto intentionally put himself at undue risk?” he rephrased, but Miho intercepted his dodge.

“Not what I asked,” she snapped, inching a little closer to him.

“I am sure of what I observed, and am satisfied with the rigor of our forensic investigators,” he answered slowly, and Miho jumped on his hesitation.

“Damnit, Hyogo, you know what I’m asking!” she barked, giving his chest a bit of a shove, and Kaga snatched her wrist.

This caught the attention of Liana, who was standing nearby with a phone pressed to her ear.

“These are questions for Captain Ishigami,” Kaga told her, lowering his head and his tone.

“He was as slippery as you, and it’s suspicious,” Miho hissed.

“You’re grieving,” he asserted, trying to sound accommodating, maybe even sympathetic. “You’re raw and hurting and wanting all this to be a horrible nightmare, but…”

“I DISBELIEVE!” she snarled, shaking herself free, and several others looked over, including Issei.

“Captain Kaga,” Liana began amiably, as she approached to defuse a true blow-up of the situation.

She had since ended her phone call, and gave the pair her entire focus.

“Please, allow me,” she smiled warmly, slipping her hand into Miho’s.

Not quite with his tail between his legs, but certainly without reluctance, Kaga nodded and shifted away from the two women.

“You just saved him a black eye,” Miho hissed, scuffing her toes in the gravel irritably.

“Just a black eye?” Liana smirked cheekily, and this got Miho to smile wickedly.

“Yeah okay, he might have lost a little more; I’m fed up with getting chided for not being morose enough,” she muttered, allowing Liana to turn her away from the gathering at the shrine.

“Well, I just got off the phone with reliable source,” Liana explained quietly, “who said a known terrorist group on Public Safety’s watchlist called Kurai, had recently been planning a serious attack, but now the group is in chaos - something about an internal power struggle.”

“When?” Miho prompted, giving Liana her full attention.

“That’s what caught my attention,” Liana nodded. “According to my source, an attack targeting shinkansen lines was supposed to happen two days after Goto’s supposed death.”

Miho’s brows drew slowly down, but she wasn’t drawing any major conclusions yet, but the wheels were definitely turning. Liana’s acceptance of Miho’s belief in Goto’s survival was warming, a relief.

“No terrorists though,” Miho noted.

Any disruption to the train network would be big news – a case of terrorism, if it had occurred, would have been all over the news

“So their plans were disturbed,” Miho added, thinking aloud.

“I wasn’t able to get much in terms of specifics,” Liana admitted, “but,” she continued quickly, “Kurai is having a bit of a management crisis, which might explain why their plans fell through.”

“Seiji,” Miho exhaled. “This is totally his doing.”

“Entirely possible,” Liana smiled, but quickly her expression fell. “And if that’s the case, his death, could all be a part of the investigation.”

About that idea, Liana did not look at all impressed.

“I’m going to need to speak to your husband again,” Miho growled, and while Liana would defend Ishigami when he was in the right, she had no issue taking him to task when he was wrong.

“We’re staying here overnight,” Liana revealed. “I’ll give you the hotel address.”

 “Spill it,” Miho charged, the moment Liana opened the door of her hotel room.

Stunned, Ishigami blinked at the instant onslaught, but Miho did not even allow him to draw breath.

“He’s not dead, and you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on or…”

“Stop right there, Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami said, emerging from his stupor.

“I will not stop!” she snapped – in his face, teeth bared and savage. “Whatever this is? Terrorists? All of Japan, the world in peril? Because if it’s not, the bullshit you’re putting me, and Seiji’s family through it outrageous and I…”

“You need to calm down,” he tried to reason, but Liana could see the cracks forming in his demeanour.

“Would you? If I told you Liana was dead, tell me you wouldn’t be in my face demanding answers,” Miho pressed, finally stabbing a finger against his chest, and there Ishigami lost his cool.

“That is enough,” he snapped, and even Liana flinched.

Miho’s lips continued to move, but no sound emerged.

After a few tense seconds, Ishigami adjusted his glasses and exhaled a slow sigh.

“Kurai,” Miho prompted, more tempered in tone. “Seiji infiltrated them, didn’t he?”

Walking to the window, Ishigami sighed again.

“Yes,” Ishigami admitted, softly. “And… his death… is essential to not only the success of the operation, but to his survival because…”

Hanging off his every word, Miho leaned forward; Ishigami turned back to the room and pair of expectant gazes, his own serious.

“There is a mole in Public Safety.”

“Who?” Miho blurted.

“If I knew that, all this would not be necessary,” Ishigami grumbled, fiddling with his glasses again. “The only way to protect him and his contact within Kurai, is to convince everyone in Public Safety he is no longer in play.”

“So… who does know he’s alive?” Liana asked.

“Myself, Chief Namba, and now the two of you, against my better judgement,” he answered wearily. “Though I must say, I am immensely relieved to have brought your suffering to an end.”

“I’d still be livid if I didn’t know you genuinely did this to protect Seiji,” Miho nodded slowly. “But am still pissed off you didn’t think me capable of feigning grief.”

“This is a case of substantial import,” Ishigami insisted. “Telling anyone what you have learned could not only destroy our chances of bringing down Kurai, but lead to catastrophic infrastructure damage and death.”

“I got it,” Miho huffed, running her fingers through her hair in a frustrated manner, before reaffixing her gaze on him.

Softer.

Beseeching.

“Have you had contact with him?” she asked, voice so much smaller. “Is he injured?”

“Not… recently, no,” he admitted, motioning for her to sit.

She complied.

“But his last communication was directly to my private number informing me of his status – unharmed – a brief situational report, and his strong suspicion he and his contact had been compromised by a mole in Public Safety.”

It wasn’t until a cup of tea appeared before her, that Miho realised Liana had snuck away. With a small smile, Miho accepted the offering.

“So, what do you do now?” she frowned, before blowing softly against the rim of her mug.

“Well,” Ishigami began again, moving to also sit. “I will have to inform Chief Namba that you’re now aware of the situation. He will probably wish to speak to you himself.”

  Though he was the Chief of Public Safety, when Miho followed Ishigami into Namba’s office, the broad-shouldered looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“So, where do you want it, Jin?” she dropped, flat and cold and staring daggers.

“Excuse me?” Namba blinked, looking from Miho to his subordinate.

“I believe she means to hit you,” Ishigami translated, and Namba’s brows twitched.

“Hit is the polite translation,” Miho snorted, pointing at him sharply. “I get your need for secrecy, but all this is bullshit – I should have been told.”

“Ah,” he nodded, shifting a little before his fingers knitted together before him.

“No doubt Captain Ishigami has now explained the seriousness of the situation?”

At this, it was Ishigami’s turn to squirm a little.

“I think we both know, Mrs. Goto is not one to let something go once she has sunk her teeth into it,” he said, then wished he’d used different phrasing when Miho bared her teeth.

“You knew marrying a skilled undercover agent could result in time apart,” Namba explained. “And that strict rules of confidentiality would prevent you from knowing the details of his missions.”

This was true, but in Miho’s mind, what they had done to her and the rest of Goto’s family was way beyond that.

“You killed me,” she asserted, tone low and dangerous as she leaned forward across his desk. “You carved out my heart, and you set it beside the heart of his mother, and father and brother…”

“For Lieutenant Goto’s safety,” Namba insisted.

“And that’s the only reason I haven’t crawled over this desk and ripped out your throat,” she growled, at which point, Ishigami did the brave thing and put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“That is quite enough,” he told her firmly. “We are all sorry for the pain you have experienced, but as I said earlier, the greater good was, is served by the continuing secrecy of Goto’s mission.”

Surprisingly, Miho didn’t throw his hand off. In fact, she straightened and let out a long breath to balance herself before resettling her gaze on Namba.

“So, I suppose you want to get him home,” he then said, a sparkle lighting up his eyes. “And since you no doubt know most of what’s going on - if I’m right about your interrogation abilities – I have an idea of just how you can help do that.”

“Sir?” Ishigami frowned, but Namba held his hand up.

“If it was to become known in Public Safety circles, that you had received a missive from Lieutenant Goto prior to his death, and that you felt it necessary to take action upon that information…”

“That could draw the mole out to ensure what I fictionally know doesn’t reveal their identity,” Miho finished thoughtfully, already nodded.

Ishigami, meanwhile, was not.

“I am very much against this,” he declared. “Involving Mrs. Goto in this investigation is…”

“A brilliant idea,” Miho interrupted.

“Irresponsible,” Ishigami corrected. “A traitor in our midst willing to put the safety of the public and his or her colleagues at risk, in the firing line of the Kurai, is not someone against whom a civilian should be pitted. I should also think Lieutenant Goto would not want his wife put in undue danger.”

“Lieutenant Goto knows better than to tell me what I can and cannot do,” Miho sniffed, then flashed a nasty grin toward Namba. “Flush that son of a bitch in my direction, Chief.”

“Chief Namba,” Ishigami said, as serious as he may have ever been. “I will go on record with my disagreement; Mrs. Goto should not be any further involved in this!”

For a few seconds following the rise of his voice, the two others looked at him a little surprised.

“You don’t want me in danger, I get it,” Miho told him finally, her expression softening a little. “But Seiji can’t come home until the mole is revealed, and this will work. I doubt Chief Namba has a mind to strip me naked, tie a bow around my neck and shout-out to all potential traitors to come have a poke.”

Both men immediately blushed.

Like, fires of hell heat in their cheeks you could see in pitch black.

“For crying out loud, you’re both grown men,” she huffed. “The point is, I’m not signing up to die, but to be very well guarded bait. Do you have people who are above reproach? Kurosawa, surely,” Miho answered, before they could. “He idolises Seiji. There’s no way he would do anything to put him in danger.”

“Soma and Kaga,” Namba put in, though at the last name, Ishigami’s nose wrinkled.

“I’m not so sure about the last,” he declared.

“Leave him out then… Subaru… call Subaru in. He would never let anything happen to me.”

“He may well have a few things to say in opposition,” Ishigami added.

“Then he can stow it too,” Miho huffed. “Chief Namba, will you set this up?”

With only a few seconds hesitation, Namba nodded his assent, and Miho exhaled.

“I’ll wait for your instructions,” she sighed. “Whatever it is you need me to do, I will, don’t question that for a second.”

“I don’t think anyone would dare,” he noted, and there concluded the meeting.

Dun dun duuuun... the final part!

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

MJS Aftermath - SIX FEET Part 2

Both Ishigami and Kaga were more than excited to see the figure on the other side of the door, leaping at him with reckless abandon, but Miho slumped against the door frame. Jazz appeared behind her, biting her lip as Subaru fought the puppies off to wrap Miho in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, shoving the foil covered casserole he had in one hand at Jazz.

This time, Miho didn’t cry, even if Subaru did.

“It doesn’t have coriander in it, does it?”

“You love coriander!” he attempted to joke, but the look on Jazz’s face told him he’d made a terrible blunder.

“No,” Miho disagreed quietly. “That’s Seiji.”

“Oh,” Subaru dropped, cringing a second but he had a smile affixed when he finally brought Miho to arm’s length.

“It’s fine,” she smiled back. “Everyone’s in a bit of a tizzy at the moment.”

“Except you,” he noted a little quizzically. “The very picture of calm and collected.”

“How many times has he nearly died?” she asked, turning and heading into the living area with the pups on her heels. “Every other week, really, right?”

Glancing sideways at Jazz, Subaru followed, shrugging awkwardly. It was clear to Jazz that Subaru didn’t have the words, not to comfort Miho, or himself. True, Subaru and Goto always bickered, but their actions had proven time and time again they were best friends.

“Tea? Coffee?” Miho chirped, obviously attempting to change Subaru’s grim expression.

“Yeah,” he answered ambiguously, scrutinising the house’s interior as he trailed Miho and Jazz into the kitchen.

“Yeah what?”

“What happened here?” he replied, only looking more confused. “This place is spotless.”

Another blunder for anyone who knew Goto was a bit on the untidy side.

“Are you suggesting my home is usually a mess?” Miho sniffed.

“Well, no,” he stumbled. “But there’s clean, and then there’s I could eat off the tiles clean.”

“We’ve been keeping busy,” Jazz clarified.

“Because work isn’t enough to keep us occupied apparently,” Miho dropped sarcastically.

“Should you even be wandering around?” he then asked of Jazz, who while obviously pregnant did not seem to be in any discomfort.

“Being pregnant isn’t a disability, you know,” she grunted, then dropped her voice. “Unlike being an idiot.”

“I heard that,” Subaru grated sourly, but his brows lifted when Miho let out a chuckle.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think this comedy routine was for me.”

Both her friends fell silent.

“Oh, cut it out will you?” she huffed, throwing up her hands in annoyance. “Come on, Subaru, you’ve known Seiji far longer than me, so you should know this is bullshit.”

“Um…” he squirmed. “I’ve seen the evidence, Miho, the forensics…”

“Yeah?” she snorted. “You know who saw the evidence for Daisetsu’s ‘death’? The forensics? I did, and we all know how that ended.”

Knowingly, and not very discreetly, Jazz rolled her eyes to Subaru.

“Cut that out,” Miho snapped. “He’s not dead, and that’s all there is to it.”

She left them both standing in the kitchen a little bewildered by her curtness, but Jazz eventually let out a heavy sigh.

“I tried to talk to her about funeral arrangements, but she just shuts me down,” she explained solemnly. “I get where she is coming from, what with Daisetsu’s faked death, but if Captain Ishigami and the whole of Public Safety is sure, then…”

Helplessly, she shrugged.

“She doesn’t want me to comfort her,” she exhaled, her eyes misting over a little, and Subaru drew closer. “I don’t know how to comfort her, and I’ve always known.”

“We just be here,” he said, offering his arms and an awkward but honest hug. “So, when she figures out what she needs, we can be there to give it.”

People came and went, but it was the arrival of Goto’s parents and brother that complicated the situation more. Under any other circumstance, the presence of family might have brought some solace, but Miho was… as Miho was – forward about her opinion.

“I’m not interested in burying an empty casket,” she declared stubbornly.

Haruka looked tearily helpless.

Shinichi scowled.

Issei became angry.

“I thought you loved him!” he barked, and Miho’s face darkened in response.

“I love him, present tense,” she snapped. “And it’s because I love him, know him, trust him, that I can’t and won’t believe he’d be stupid enough to get killed.”

“But Miho,” Shinichi beseeched, and in an unusual sign of physical affection he attempted to hug her.

Miho dodged.

“No, Dad,” she argued.

“You’ve always known his work was dangerous,” Shinichi continued, his tone settling back into something gruffer. “As much as we might want this not to be true, there are things beyond our control, beyond Seiji’s control.”

“You go,” Miho told them, nodding emphatically. “I understand. If you believe this, then you need to find closure, but I will not put another box in the ground.”

The door slammed, Kaga and Ishigami lucky to scoot through with tails intact.

In the bedroom, Miho paced back and forth until her eyes came to rest on the pinstripe suit laid out across the grey duvet.

Haruka had picked it out. Even though there wasn’t a body as such to put in it, she’d felt it symbolic of his professionalism, of his nature, and an important part of letting him go. Kaga and Ishigami, however, thought the suit made perfect bedding, and curled up together to watch their mother scowl.

“What the hell, Miho?” Issei charged, bursting into the room. “Where do you get off talking to Mum like that?”

His eyes were red – he had been crying, but now he was just angry.

“You think you’re hurting? What about us?” he snapped, spittle peppering the air between them.

“He’s not dead, Issei!” Miho shouted, right into his face, then pointed at Goto’s suit. “It’s empty, you see that? EMPTY.”

“Because what’s left of him is locked up in a mortuary!” Issei fired back, not backing down – but that only drew him into striking range.

Redder still, Issei looked absolutely shocked with Miho’s palm print emblazoned across his left cheek.

“Your brother would be heartbroken you’ve so little faith in him,” she hissed, her eyes wild and her tone low, seething. “Go pick a casket, choose music and scripture and flowers to lay at a hollow grave, but do not think for a moment I will partake in such a farce.”

She moved so quickly her puppies didn’t have a chance to catch up. Bursting from the bedroom, she stalked to the front door past a bewildered Shinichi and Haruka and snatched her jacket.

After stomping several blocks, Miho hailed a taxi, glad she left emergency money secured in the inside pocket of her coat. It was enough to get her to Station, where Agasa raised an eyebrow at her in recognition. The death of a police officer, regardless of what department they belonged to, did not remain a secret for very long, and though Agasa might have seen Goto and Miho only a handful of times – if that – Second Unit had raised more than a few glasses in honour of a fallen comrade and a good man.

“Mrs. Goto,” he greeted softly, as Miho sat herself down on a stool at the bar. “What can I get you?”

“Enough whiskey to make it all go away,” she replied, not questioning how he knew her, just tapping the bar with her fingertips expectantly.

Agasa knew well enough when to argue with a customer and when to let them drink. At least if she was there, he could keep an eye on her, call in backup if things got a bit too ugly. He placed the bottle down beside her, though it was only a third full, then a glass.

“Don’t go too overboard,” he warned her softly, and in response she grunted and poured for herself.

As she drank, she muttered, but she was not looking for a response from Agasa or those who came and went.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured, shaking her head.

Hitting Issei like that – she knew she’d done a bad thing and would have to apologise.

“How can I convince them?” she sighed, staring into her glass but quickly turning her head when she sensed a presence close behind her.

“Convince who of what, Princess?” Baba enquired in his usual happy tone.

“You know what,” she replied dryly, taking another sip as he sat down beside her. “You know everything.”

“It is true I know a lot of things,” he smiled, waving to Agasa before pointing at Miho’s glass. “Not quite everything, though.”

Working with Baba at the agency had proven both a blessing and a curse at times. He had this infuriating way of being jovial no matter what happened, this ability to see the upside in even the darkest of situations. It could be both uplifting and excruciating at the same time. There was also the fact that he had made himself available on and off through Miho’s single years as a physical comfort: the best kind of friend with benefits.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, still not looking into his face.

She wasn’t sure she could stand to see the sparkle in his eyes or the playfulness on his lips.

“You know this is a police bar, right?” she added.

Baba shrugged.

“I don’t know why I should be concerned,” he smirked. “I’m a law-abiding citizen; besides, I don’t think Detective Ayase meets the height requirement to get in.”

Miho might have snorted, but the air in her lungs was lethargic, morose.

“Come on, Princess,” he crooned, giving her arm a gentle nudge with his, as Agasa put a tumbler down in front of him. “I tracked you down because I thought you’d have given me a call by now.”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” she pointed out, emptying her glass and pouring herself another, then one for Baba.

“Yes, yes, funerals – so many little details to plan for,” he agreed, one hand moving in an animated way as he spoke. “Eulogies and floral arrangements and boxes for burial.”

Now, Miho looked at him, her eyes narrowed. But she said nothing, studying him, searching him. What he said was not meant to hurt her; no, he was teasing her because…

“Tell me,” she demanded in a cold hiss, turning her body to his. “Tell me I’m right.”

“Right about?” he poked, obviously enjoying the little game, pushing her because he indeed knew her well enough he knew her limits.

“I will fucking deck you, Mitsunari,” she growled, leaning forward and baring her teeth. “Tell me I am right. He isn’t dead.”

“Hot damn, you’re sexy when you get angry,” he grinned. “You really ought to wear more leather.”

Limit.

He probably could have dodged, but he didn’t, so when Miho grabbed him by the tie and dragged him off his barstool, he slid off easily.

“Riding crop, too,” Baba added, allowing himself to be dragged to a booth and shoved into it.

“Cut the shit,” she hissed, dropping in opposite him. “Playtime is over.”

“A little birdy told me something fascinating,” he admitted finally, triumphant. “Did you know that DNA identification of burnt bone can be pretty reliable?”

Eyes sharp, Miho brain raced ahead to find Baba’s point before he voiced it.

“In extremely bad cases though, if someone was to use, say, white phosphorus or thermite, for example, bones don’t leave much at all – no nuclear DNA – and even mitochondrial profiles are sporadic in their reliability at best.”

“The gang he infiltrated had access to thermite and white phosphorus?” Miho blinked.

Of course, she knew Public Safety worked dangerous cases chasing really dangerous people, but for criminals to have and use dangerous chemicals like those put a whole new perspective on it.

“Maybe,” Baba mused noncommittally, “but I think the point is more that it’s highly unlikely any remains burned to that extent could be positively identified.”

Miho licked her lips.

She knew better than to ask about Baba’s sources, and knew through experience – even if she didn’t know how – that his information was always accurate.

“Captain Ishigami wouldn’t, he wouldn’t tell me it’s him if he wasn’t sure,” she exhaled to herself. “He wouldn’t accept the death of a subordinate if there was any doubt.”

“You know the guy that well?” Baba posed. “I mean, these Public Safety guys lie for a living, right?”

“To me? About that?” Miho wondered, her throat dry.

Trembling hands took her mobile phone from her pocket.

“That I don’t know the answer to,” he admitted, leaning a little closer to see what Miho was texting. “Going straight to the top, huh?”

“No, Namba’s out of town,” Miho murmured, as she fired off her text message to Liana, “but Captain Ishigami will do.”

“I wouldn’t want to be him,” Baba smirked swirling the drink he hadn’t touched yet. “You have a plan?”

“Yeah,” Miho rumbled, slipping from the barstool and throwing a fist full of money for her drinks on the counter. “I’m going to get really, really angry.”

Rationality still existed, Miho felt it tugging her in the opposite direction to her destination, but she ignored it. Her rage was a blaze bringing warmth back to the numbness of her flesh, and she allowed it to fill her to overflowing before she arrived at the restaurant Liana had unwittingly revealed as the location of Miho’s target.

“Miho?” Liana blinked, as Miho stalked between the tables – definitely a woman on a mission.

“Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami added, seeming surprised but quick to rise to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“Out of respect for our friendship and your personal and professional relationship with Seiji,” Miho began, her tone an ice-pick: cold, pointed, “I’m going to give you the opportunity to step out with me and have this conversation.”

Understandably, Ishigami looked surprised, but Liana appeared downright shocked and both their mouths hung open too long for Miho’s liking.

“Very well,” Miho grunted. “Explain the conviction you have Seiji is dead, when the extreme heat you’ve admitted rendered the remains you found to nothing but bones?”

People looked in the direction of the standing pair as they remained facing one another, though the volume of their voices was not especially loud.

“I’m no scientist, Captain,” Miho went on to fill the void once more, “or a weapon’s expert, but to reach the kind of temperatures needed to reduce human bone to the condition you found them in, in an open space like that warehouse, you’d need some seriously restricted firepower.”

“Where did you get this idea from?” Ishigami asked finally, his expression a good approximation of concerned.

“You mean, how do I know you grossly overstated the certainty of my husband’s death?” she snapped, the crack of a whip that silenced everything else in the restaurant.

“Miho,” Liana whispered, reaching for her hand, but Miho yanked it away.

“Look into his eyes, Liana,” Miho growled, pointing into Ishigami’s face. “Imagine Seiji is telling you your husband is dead, all the while you’re holding evidence it isn’t true in your hand.”

“I know this is very difficult for you,” Ishigami attempted, watching the maitre’d cautiously approach in his peripheral vision. “No one wants Lieut..”

“I am his WIFE!” she roared, and people at nearby tables flinched at the violence of her retort, the rawness of her emotion. “Difficult is an understatement I will not bear when you know he’s alive.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you t…” the maitre’d interrupted, but the freeze of his jaw when Miho’s eyes fell upon him made it clear he saw death in them.

“Tell me where he is,” Miho demanded on little more than a breath, an imperative she exhaled into Ishigami’s face. “Give me the truth.”

“I can see, Mrs. Goto, the truth is too much for you at present,” Ishigami said evenly, but Liana saw him adjust his glasses – noted and filed it. “Grief is…”

“I will not mourn the living,” Miho snarled, blind to the much larger man who had come to back the maitre’d.

“Ma’am,” came a firmer, warning voice.

Miho tilted her head in some form of acknowledgement but maintained eye contact with Ishigami.

“I will never forget this pain,” she hissed, gaze like razor-wire. “And I will never forget your part in it.”

Before she could be manhandled out of the restaurant, Miho turned on her heels and strode out, to bystanders a vengeful force of wrathful energy.

(GUEST WRITER @BelXsar! Scene RPed)

There was a full moment of silence, then another, and another, before the interior of the restaurant finally started to return to its former activity before the human whirlwind that was Miho Fujisawa Goto had blown in and then just as dramatically swept out.  The restaurant staff resumed their former duties, and the other patrons’ gazes went back to their dining companions, while Liana studied her husband with hers, even as he just as studiously avoided it. They had just been contemplating what to have for dessert when Miho had arrived, but it was clear that any appetite for sweets had vanished just as abruptly.  With a sidelong glance towards the discarded dessert menus lying on the table, Captain Hideki Ishigami emptied his water glass, then signalled their waiter and coolly asked for the cheque. The bill paid, he got up, and his wife followed him out of the restaurant.

His hand reached out for hers on the street outside, and Liana took it, noting his grasp was on the cool side as usual but his grip a bit tighter.  They strode silently, hand in hand, to where their car was parked, and he opened the door for her before sliding into the driver’s seat. As the car pulled into traffic, he still had yet to meet his wife’s gaze which had remained mostly fixed on him all the while.

On the silent drive home, Liana pulled out her phone and tapped a quick text to Jazz Mann Akiwa, hoping their shared friend would update her on what was going on when clearly her husband had no desire to do so.

Ishigami remained silent even as they arrived home.  It was after they entered their flat, taken off their shoes, hung up their coats, and he seemed to be heading towards the bathroom, that Liana finally quickened her stride and cut in front of her husband, putting her hand against the wall to block his path.

Enough was enough.

She had given him the appropriate discretion while they had been in public, despite the maelstrom of questions running through her mind. Now, in the privacy of their own home, she could remain silent no longer.

“Hideki,” she said quietly, softly, yet no less firmly.  “What is going on?”

Her dark blue eyes sought out his grey ones, intent.

His hand was half-way to his glasses before he actually stopped himself.

“I thought perhaps I would take a shower,” he explained, as if as much was obvious. “I have an early meeting tomorrow and will not have time in the morning.”

If he knew what she was actually getting at – and the man wasn’t a moron, so he knew – there was not a single hint of it in his expression.

Liana tilted her head slightly and gave him a look, one eyebrow raised.  “Please don’t insult me, and I won’t return the favor. You know very well what I mean.”

With practised zen, Ishigami’s expression didn’t so much as twitch; still, when he spoke again, there was at least a little emotion in his tone.

“It is understandable Mrs. Goto would not wish to believe Lieutenant Goto is gone,” he explained, “and regrettable her desire seems to have manifested so strongly. You are right to be concerned; I shall organise for a counsellor to touch base with her tomorrow.”

Liana’s eyebrows drew together a little.  “As passionate as Miho can be, she’s not a woman prone to hysterics.  And I think you appreciate that, Hideki. This is not just a grieving widow deep in denial and going off the deep end.  She said something about extreme heat, and remains being reduced to nothing. Which you didn’t deny. You’re deflecting. Whatever it is, I think Miho has proven in the past she can handle it, any truth, rather than a bunch of lies. As Lieutenant Goto’s wife, she deserves that much, at least.”

Responding seemed a little difficult for Ishigami – not because he didn’t know what to say, but because saying it to his inquisitive wife would not be easy.

“You know I cannot discuss an ongoing investigation,” he told her gently, his brows lowering just a little bit.

He wasn’t without empathy.

“Doing so could put further lives at risk, and that is the very reason rules and protocols exist.”

“Then she’s not wrong.”

Liana’s words were murmured to herself as much as her reticent husband, said in confirmation more than any triumph.  She looked back up at Ishigami. “You don’t have to tell her any details. But can’t you at least indicate you’re still just trying to confirm the identification of the remains, and that it’s still an ‘ongoing investigation’?  If you tell her to keep things to herself, she will. She understands the importance of discretion, as much for her husband’s safety as the case itself. Just don’t add to her trauma, Hideki. You know she’s not someone you want on the warpath against you, and that’s what’s going to happen if you keep lying to her and suggesting she’s crazy.”

His wife calling him a liar was something he knew he just had to weather. Despite his absolute devotion to the job, it hurt no less.

“I do not believe she is crazy,” he said carefully. “Grief takes a great many forms and denial can be a natural part of the mourning process.”

This wasn’t anything Liana didn’t already know.

“If I lost you,” he continued, hazarding to raise his hand toward her cheek, “I would not wish to believe it, either; I would do anything to undo it… But I cannot give this to Mrs. Goto, or to you, no matter how much we both want to alleviate her suffering.”

She looked down for a moment, shaking her head briefly before taking a breath and looking back up at her husband.

“Things don’t always have to be zero sum, you know.  I believe rules exist for the spirit of such protocol rather that the strict letter of them.  You don’t want to compromise an ongoing investigation, I understand that. So does Miho. But in this case, especially for her — and I’m not just saying that because she’s my friend; I think she’s proven herself in situations like this –, I think you can maintain the integrity of the investigation while not having to deceive her at the same time.  Rules are a dead and static thing, made by humans to serve the needs of a situation. And by the same token, situations can change, and so we can be flexible to adapt while remaining true to overall protocol. It’s not ‘either or’ in this case, Hideki, you must be able to see that. Things need not be robotic; in fact, I think something as dynamic as a complicated investigation is best served by anything but.”

Her look was beseeching as much as it was resolute.  She wanted, needed, him to understand that there was more than one alternative, and indeed, a better one existed than what dead, strict rules dictated.

His hand had reached her cheek, his thumb had been lightly grazing the skin as she spoke, but the moment she’d mentioned his way was ‘robotic’, his arm sank back to his side.

“You are operating under the assumption I do not know how to effectively perform my job,” he stated, and indeed, this time he sounded more mechanical, “that I am intentionally wounding Mrs. Goto. Please do not forget our duty is not without risk – risk Lieutenant Goto has always accepted as a necessary evil in the pursuit of people who want to destroy our way of life (writes a presidential speech). Lieutenant Goto’s death will not be in vain provided the integrity of this investigation is not compromised, and in time, Mrs. Goto’s pain will diminish.”

His stoic mask was now firmly affixed, a sure sign to his wife he had been affronted. It was rare he showed anger, whether he felt it or not; it was far more common for him to shut down.

Which is what he did – and before she could speak again he had stepped away.

“I am going to take a shower now,” he asserted.

“Is that part of the fake eulogy you’re going to give?” she threw at his retreating back before she could stop herself, her sarcastic side finding voice in her frustration.

She almost wanted to throw something at the firmly closing bathroom door, but knew it would accomplish nothing but a momentary childish satisfaction of noise to punctuate her ire.  She thought she understood her husband enough to get beyond the “cyborg” persona his colleagues often referred to him as, but now she wondered how much she was really able to understand him in the dire situations when she felt she should most.

She bit her lip, and after only a moment’s thought, grabbed her phone to text a quick thanks to Jazz for what she was able to surmise by now.  She followed this with a quick text to Miho:

“I believe you.  I’m sorry about him.”

Liana didn’t want to go more into it than that, over what was really essentially not that secure a channel.  She hoped her friend understood the “him” was her infuriatingly stubborn husband.

Liana stood halfway between the hallway and her bedroom, wondering whether she should get ready for bed or go to Miho to apologize to and try to comfort, and help, her friend.  She doubted if she would get much further with Hideki tonight, though a tenacious part of her wanted to try, as well as to make him understand she was not against him, but trying to help him as well as her friend and Lieutenant Goto.  Or if it would be more helpful to the situation as a whole to go to discuss things over with her friend. A chime from her phone alerting her to an incoming text helped make up her mind.

“I’m going to need more ice cream.”

It was Jazz, and no doubt Miho had chowed her way through all available potential sources to cool her ire.

“Will hijack an ice cream van and be right over. Preferences?”

“Surprise me.”

PART THREE

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

MJS Aftermath - SIX FEET Part 1

FOREWORD: So we thought we were done with the MJS series, but I apparently haven’t gotten this out of my system. ‘Aftermath’ takes place several months after Miho and Goto are married and have moved into their own home. Those who don’t remember various revelations from their wedding fic, Jazz is visibly pregnant now, and her marriage to Kuni is public knowledge.

_____________

A knock at the door.

Knocks on the door are usually fairly innocuous.

And this one was punctuated by the excited barks of two puppy greyhounds named Kaga and Ishigami.

“Oh, come on you guys,” Miho complained, following the excited loping bounce of her dogs, “there is no need to bark at absolutely everything that approaches the house.”

Apparently, the puppies disagreed, and continued to bark as if a world full of murderers were congregated on the other side of the door.

“For fuck’s sake Kaga,” she huffed, dancing to dodge the poochies underfoot, “get out of the way!”

But the joviality in her voice, the laughter, drained away when she looked at the AV intercom Goto had insisted they install.

There stood an ominous entourage of Public Safety captains and lieutenants.

“Sit,” Miho barked, and in a scurry, both puppies scampered back and planted their bums on the floorboards.

The latch came free, then the deadbolt, before Miho pulled open the heavy, solid wood door to peer at the conspicuous gathering through the security door – and each of them wore a solemn expression no grate or barrier could protect her from.

“Captains,” she said, also focus on keeping her mind from jumping to catastrophic conclusions, “Lieutenants, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami nodded evenly, but she knew him well enough to interpret the way he fidgeted with his glasses as a bad sign. “Would it be too much trouble to come inside?”

Silently she gave a nod, but the puppies at her back began barking the moment she unlocked the security door, and growled at the sight of Kaga.

“Kaga that’s enough,” Miho snapped sharply, and Kaga – the man not the dog – blinked and straightened.

“Daaw, look how they’ve grown!” Kurosawa gushed, dropping to his knees the moment there was room, and both puppies tackled him happily.

“Kaga stop humping his knee,” Miho sighed, avoiding the human Kaga’s gaze, knowing it was growing increasingly irritated. “Ahh, this way gentlemen.”

No more was said between then and the lounge room; not even their footfalls against the floorboards made sound, and yet Miho could already hear every word they had come to say.

She had spent her career in matchmaking reading people, after all, and their strides, the way their eyes stared straight ahead and the tight set of their jaws spoke volumes in their silence. She had not known them to visit as a group before, Kaga and Shinonome hadn’t even set foot in the Goto residence alone, and the Master of the house’s conspicuous absence from the congregation was absolutely the reason they were there.

“I’ll put some coffee on,” Miho declared when the men all stood uncomfortably in the bright, airy space, the puppies frolicking between them.

“Don’t,” Kaga dropped, catching her wrist as she stepped toward the kitchen.

Foreseeing their purpose, Miho did not react as she might once have; there was no scathing warning, no brazen physical response, just the slight downward tilt of her head and the shift of her body toward the still unoccupied couch.

“Please, sit,” she offered, and all but Captain Ishigami found a place to sit.

He, crouched down in front of Miho and reached for her hands in an uncharacteristic physical gesture, cool, slender fingers wrapping lightly around hers.

“As you know, Lieutenant Goto has been undercover for several months,” he said slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully. “And while he has not been able to contact you, communication with Public Safety was consistent in line with mission operational parameters.”

“Was,” Miho repeated, plucking the crucial word from his sentence and lighting it up in the space between them.

Puppy-Kaga and Puppy-Ishigami’s sleek bodies leapt up onto the couch, and sensing the gathering storm about to lash their mother, they curled up either side of her.

“There was a critical incident last night,” Ishigami went on, his shoulder twitch suggesting he’d like to adjust his glasses again, but he maintained contact with her palms. “A gunfight erupted and…”

Puppy-Kaga interrupted with a whining yawn before turning his head to rest into Miho’s lap, and this was all Kurosawa could take, covering his mouth to stifle a sob.

“Is he dead?” Miho asked, so, so quiet though her voice did not tremble – that is the truth she’d known the moment she had opened to the door to find them all standing there.

Even Ishigami seemed to be struggling with the maintenance of his usually perfect, stoic façade, a frown driving a deep arrow between his brows.

“We recovered digital footage from the scene,” he expounded without directly answering her question, “and,” he added after taking a slow, deep breath, “found the burned remains of the gang he had infiltrated early this morning. We’ve confirmed Goto – Seiji – was among them.”

The closing flutter of Miho’s eyes saved her from the struggle in Ishigami’s expression, but threatened her with the horrific blanks her mind filled in, not that her imagination could possibly conjure up a nightmare greater than what had already been delivered.

“I see,” she whispered, a sound from somewhere deep within her throat. “Thank you,” she went on as she looked up and around at her husband’s closest colleagues, “thank you all for coming to tell me personally, I appreciate it, and I know Seiji would too.”

“What?” Kurosawa coughed, pausing in his own anguish to blink at her in surprise. “Thank you? That’s all?”

“Toru,” Soma hissed sharply.

“But!” he insisted, seeming both confused and a little outraged by Miho’s calm.

“It’s okay,” Miho smiled sadly. “I understand you were all very close to him.”

“You’re his wife,” Kurosawa wept, even as Shinonome took his arm and gave him a tug toward the door.

“Rest assured, Mrs. Goto, this won’t go unpunished,” Kaga assured her, his teeth clenched fiercely.

“I believe you, Captain,” Miho nodded, sliding Puppy-Kaga away and standing slowly, forcing Ishigami to his feet also. “Seiji has every trust in you both.”

There was no quibble over her misused verb tense, just the awkwardness of men of action trapped in a situation where heroism couldn’t be rushing in with guns blazing.

The only hero among them now, it seemed, was dead.

“Thank you again for coming,” Miho expressed gently, her glance past them to the corridor leading to the front door a clear signal they did not miss.

Reluctantly, however, Ishigami stepped back, disquieted by her lack of reaction in his own way.

“Is there someone we can call for you?” he offered, forced to follow her down the hall, Kaga and Soma in tow. “Miss Mann perhaps? Miss Genever?”

“No, thank you,” Miho replied politely, opening the door to reveal Kurosawa sitting on the porch with Shinonome hovering over him. “I know you’re all very busy, and your investigation is not over.”

Getting to his feet, it looked as if Kurosawa had something more to say, but he sucked it back into his chest and turned down the path.

“You’ll let me know when you’ve learned more?” she then enquired, and both Ishigami and Kaga nodded soberly.

“Straight away,” Kaga assured her, “and… if you should need anything, just call, any of us.”

At his atypical kindness, Miho smiled mildly.

“Of course, Captain. I will.”

Her nod was a clear dismissal, and yet the four remaining officers all felt reluctant now to leave, even though they’d dreaded the duty that had awaited them in their colleague’s home. But eventually they bid their solemn farewell, having been there no more than twenty minutes, and with a quiet click, Miho let the door close shut and placed her back against it.

The burn began in her eyes then flushed her cheeks with a fire no amount of tears could quell; but they were trapped in her chest, along with the last breath she’d taken as the door closed. Though she had known there was a possibility her husband might not come back from an operation, the reality of it being delivered to her by the men he trusted most, was somehow beyond her comprehension.

It didn’t make sense.

It couldn’t be real.

He would call and explain it was all some mix up.

When the dizziness became too much, her body forced her to inhale – lungs full of fire she released in a choking, guttural, sobbing gasp, that shattered the strength of her legs. Sliding down, a ragdoll curling against the floorboards, Miho was allowed only mere seconds before Ishigami and Kaga began poking her with their slender muzzles and licking at her cheeks.

Despite having declined Ishigami’s offer, Jazz simply let herself into the Goto residence with her keys, and hunted down where Miho was curled up in the shower recess.

The water was running cold over her best friend’s naked body, but she didn’t seem to notice her intense shaking, or the deep imprints her nails had made where she was clutching legs.

Wordlessly, Miho followed Jazz’s directions, allowing the other woman to dry her, before numbly stepping into her pyjamas.

“I don’t suppose you feel like eating,” Jazz sighed, folding the doona up to Miho’s chin.

“We were going to have duck,” Miho murmured, one hand on Ishigami’s head, the other on Kaga’s as they laid either side of her.

“We?” Jazz frowned, and Miho nodded slightly.

“Me and the kids,” she snorted, but it was a mirthless sound.

“The dogs get duck?” Jazz blinked, looking between the two most spoilt dogs ever.

Miho’s eyes closed and bit her lower lip, and in response the two sleek puppies nuzzled against her.

“Aww, Honey,” Jazz exhaled, her heart breaking and surely as if Kuni had died. “I know there is nothing I can say to make this okay,” she went on softly, stroking Miho’s hair gently, “so I’ll just be here, for whatever you need for as long as you need it.”

“You know, I told him I had a bad feeling about this mission,” Miho whispered, lifting her lids and rolling her eyes to the ceiling, “but I would never ask him not to go, because he’s never given me a reason to doubt his promises that he’ll always come home.”

Patiently, Jazz listened, while Ishigami began licking Miho’s fingertips.

“So,” Miho inhaled slowly, and then breathed out the rest of her sentence, “I don’t know why I’m being so pathetic… if he promised… he promised… so he will come back.”

And another piece of Jazz’s heart broke off.

If Ishigami and the others were sure enough about Goto’s fate they actually came to tell Miho about it in person, then Jazz had to think they were certain. Miho’s denial was not surprising, just one of many terrible steps on the road of grief she would have to travel – and not for the first time. Perhaps, Jazz wondered, Daisetsu’s faked death helped allow Miho to imagine this was all some elaborate ruse for some other purpose.

When Miho sat up, it was almost as if in clairvoyance, for the very next second both dogs’ ear pricked up and they leapt from the bed before galloping for the front door.

Then there was urgent knocking.

Jazz actually had to jump back a little as hope glimmered in Miho’s eyes and she threw back the blankets. Her bare feet slapped loudly against the floorboards as she ran, and she made no attempts to hold back her puppies before wrenching open the door.

PART TWO

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Her Love In The Zombie Apocalypse: Goodbye Goto

Author’s Note: This is the result of a dream I had, and I am absolutely unapologetic for dropping the Instructors in a zombie ridden Tokyo. Who knows... maybe this won’t just be a oneshot?

Happiness doesn’t last, does it?

In the perfect world, we grow to be strong, learn to believe in ourselves and to have the courage of our convictions, and finally meet someone with whom we can be that person – in both strength and weakness.

When you find that person, don’t let the small, the insignificant things come between you.

Embrace.

Embrace your differences and each other and don’t let go. Fight hard and with everything you’ve got.

Because you never truly know when the dream will end.

Panting and laboured beneath the weight of my backpack, I struggle to keep pace. Kaga and Soma are already pulling aside our barricade at the east end of the academy, while Shinonome and Ishigami stand alert for approaching threats.

At my side – always at my side – Seiji remains in step.

His face is smeared with the horror of his narrow escape, much like the rest of us.

But one of us fell, one of us didn’t really escape at all, the others just don’t know it yet.

Seiji doesn’t know it yet.

“Get the hell in here!” Kaga barks, but his curt urgency is no exaggeration now.

The threat is real, however disbelieving we were at the beginning, the truth has well and truly sunk in.

“Christ,” he huffs as Seiji and I pass him, and he and Soma begin to reassemble the barricade protecting our fortress home. “Could you possibly find a smaller pack?”

“Screw you,” I gasp, stumbling into the foyer and sliding the bag from my aching shoulders.

It hits the floor with a heavy clunk, the cans within part of the bounty we’d retrieved from several convenience stores much further from the academy than we have ever venture since the incident. Those closest to the academy have already been stripped bear, and it was the necessity to eat, and to provide for those who also shelter with us, that prompted a much more dangerous run to distant sources.

Roaring in my ears, my pulse refuses to slow, and Seiji looks me over with worry.

“Are you all right?” he asks quietly, leaning against the wall beside me, peering at me with those gunmetal eyes haunted by deep concern.

“Mm,” I nod, giving him a weary smile.

Anything to ease his troubles.

Anything to lighten this heart I love.

Anything to protect it from breaking.

But I can’t.

“That was intense,” I add, as Ishigami joins us.

“Everyone okay?” he asks, the blandness of his expression a stark contrast to the dangle of gore hanging from the left side of his glasses.

“Yeah,” Seiji confirms, and I nod also.

Liar.

But they take my word for it, this trust is what has kept us alive this long.

There are untold numbers of dead in Tokyo, some permanently, some now roaming, shambling, looking for prey – because it all happened so quickly, and people didn’t know how fast the infection spread, how virulent it was.

We still don’t know how it started. Even law enforcement was woefully unprepared, and communication came too slow, too late.

“Let’s get this stuff to storage,” Seiji prompted, shouldering his pack, before collecting mine.

“I’m not completely useless,” I argue, but I’m playful in my scorn.

Oh how many small things has Seiji done for me? When was the exact moment his selflessness won over my heart? I have no doubt, he would gladly give his life in exchange for mine – but this time, he can’t.

 When twilight drifts, everyone goes to their posts. We check our defences, reinforce each barricade, look for weaknesses and plug them, and check night-watch rosters.

Glancing down the list I note who is meant to be at each guard position. It looks as if I’m just doing my job, but in reality I need to know who is where for a very different reason.

Shivering, I pull my jacket more closely around me, and eventually meet up with Seiji in our room.

Our room.

It was going to be a little house, with a yard big enough for a dog and a small vegetable patch. That was our shared dream.

Now, he is all that I have left of that dream, and…

“You look tired,” he tells me, gently taking my face between broad palms. “You’re cold.”

“It’s a clear night,” I point out, leaning into his touch, trying to memorise the sensation. “It’s freezing out.”

“Well, it was a long day,” he smiles, carefully sliding his fingers into my hair and running them all the way to the tips. “Early night?”

“Gladly,” I exhale, hoping he can’t tell I’m gritting my teeth behind this smile.

He doesn’t know I organised a pack of bare essentials while he was showering, and hid it from sight. He’s treating me like he always has – the centre of his world.

Mouth dry, maybe from the gathering nervousness of what I must do, or maybe… I can’t tell if the jackhammer pounding against the inside of my skull is part of my transition, or the spread of guilt and grief and emotional pain so potent it’s a wonder I can stand, let alone smile like nothing is wrong.

And everything is wrong, because the throb in my forearm, hidden by the long sleeves of my flannel pajamas, is a harbinger of my imminent death, and horrifying resurrection.

And I can’t be here when that happens.

Just the same, I snuggle under the blankets, and as Seiji is reaching over to turn off the lamp, I wrap my uninjured arm around him, and press myself mercilessly against his back.

I want to feel the imprint of his body against mine, my fingers, my hands, I want to remember every taut undulation of his chest, and the steady rhythm of his breath.

“Your hands are still icy,” he grumbles, but hugs my forearm tightly.

And I pray he doesn’t hear my breath catch and stick in my throat, or feel the desperation to withhold a sob in the tension of my muscles.

“You always warm me up,” I whisper, hardly a breath at all, and he gives my hand a squeeze.

Nothing in the world would give me greater peace, than to remain here – but if I stay, even until morning… I might truly destroy him. Instead, I listen to the sounds of him, inhale the scent of him, until he falls asleep.

And then I have to exercise the absolute, utmost of my willpower to separate – softly so as not to wake him, when all I really want is for him to wake suddenly, grab me, pull me down and wrap himself around me.

I am my own person, but I would gladly let him consume me like tht.

Cautiously I cover him back up, but the slight motion of Seiji’s head causes his fringe to flop over his closed eyelids.

So innocent.

And yet so fierce in my defence – and this is why I have to go.

He would make excuses, drag it out, maybe even beg me to stay even while knowing my fate is a foregone conclusion.

Go. GO! You have to go. For his sake.

As quietly as I can, I retrieve my backpack. There is hardly anything in it, because let’s face it, I’m not going to be needing human supplies for much longer.

Then there is the letter.

Saying goodbye, face to face, seeing him break… I can’t. And it’s not arrogance to think he will, because his heart and mine are one and mine…

… is being torn apart.

On the pillow, still fresh with the impression of my head, I leave my final missive to him, and bite down so hard on my lower lip, it bleeds. These feet won’t move but they have to.

Go.

My insides are hollowed out, a gaping, weeping wound very nearly prompting a sob when in my retreat from out room I spy Domo-kun.

It’s so stupid that Domo-kun should symbolise our love somehow, but for some reason that gift to me left a lasting impression. And even in the chaos, he stayed with us as a constant.

“Goodbye Domo-kun,” I whisper, slipping out into the hall and closing the door on all I ever wanted.

BONUS:

 “Cold,” Goto murmured, rolling over and groping across the bed for his favourite source of warmth.

It was not so jarring an awakening, for he didn’t yet know the truth. His wife could be any number of places by far more obvious than having snuck out in the night to meet her grizzly fate.

So he clutched at the blankets and tucked them under his chin, and in doing so disturbed the piece of paper beside him.

Rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand, he plucked the missive from the pillow and unfolded it.

And dread began to form, dread that turn swiftly into a panic without description.

(Author/Narrator’s note: I blame @nitelotus​ for the following recording, after she made fun of me for crying as I wrote this. At least I don’t charge stupid amounts for voiced stories right?)

-Click to LISTEN to her letter-

My dearest Seiji,

We said, till death do us part – but, I’m not sure where undeath fits into that.

I am sorry.

I made a mistake and now… the cost of it must be paid. And this is the one time you can’t save me, no matter how many times I call you name, the enemy now inside me cannot be defeated.

You will be angry that I didn’t tell you, that I didn’t… give you a chance to say goodbye, but leaving like this is the lesser of two terrible evils.

I will turn, it’s inevitable, and I don’t want your last memory of me to be as a monster.

Please remember the brush of my fingertips against your forehead.

Please remember the warmth of my body curled against yours.

Please, remember the passionate heat, and the bliss of our every union.

And let me save you this time – let me stand, even at this distance, between you and having to see me as anything other than the woman you took to be your wife.

That woman will soon be consumed, but until the very end I will fix you in my mind and heart, grip you relentlessly, because you have taught me what it means to be loved so unconditionally, so completely; I will not be afraid.

Loving you, and being loved by you, has been a privilege I’m not sure I ever really deserved, but you have been the absolute, the most precious gift I ever received.

I love you.

Your dearest wife.

 The bed beside him was cold.

When in the night had she left him?

He knew she was gone but could not control his panic. It exploded inside him, could not be contained, and it drove him from their room in his pinstriped pajamas. With abandon he threw himself down the corridor, blind almost but for a target in the distance he had no way of seeing.

Morning greeted him with a slap of winter, but Goto struggled through the haze of his desperate breaths lingering in the air, and staggered like a drunkard to the outer most manned position.

“Did you see her?!” he shouted.

“Lieutenant?” the young man queried, looking very confused.

“My wife!” Goto gasped. “Did you see her? Did she leave this way?”

But the pair stationed there could tell him nothing, nor could any of the other outer guards, and finally, her last words to him clutched in his bloodless fist, he sat, in the dirt, trembling.

Why couldn’t he see her face? Why could he only see the back of her, her retreating figure moving with laboured steps through the undead who paid her no mind?

Losing her was… there were simply no words, but to know she had gone alone with such pain in her heart was a wound to him like no other.

 And all he could do was sit, and stare off into the distance.

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

MJS Aftermath - 6 Feet: Part 2

Last episode in MJS Aftermath - Six Feet Part 1

Ishigami: I’m sorry Mrs. Goto, your husband died while undercover. Miho: O.o PSD: We’re all sorry. Kurosawa: I’m the most sorriest! -sobs like a baby while crush-cuddling puppy Ishigami and Kaga- Jazz and Subaru: We’re here to comfort you, Miho! Miho: It’s fine, he’s not dead, I don’t believe it.

Continue...

Full Part 1 HERE

PART 2

Both Ishigami and Kaga were more than excited to see the figure on the other side of the door, leaping at him with reckless abandon, but Miho slumped against the door frame. Jazz appeared behind her, biting her lip as Subaru fought the puppies off to wrap Miho in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, shoving the foil covered casserole he had in one hand at Jazz.

This time, Miho didn’t cry, even if Subaru did.

“It doesn’t have coriander in it, does it?”

“You love coriander!” he attempted to joke, but the look on Jazz’s face told him he’d made a terrible blunder.

“No,” Miho disagreed quietly. “That’s Seiji.”

“Oh,” Subaru dropped, cringing a second but he had a smile affixed when he finally brought Miho to arm’s length.

“It’s fine,” she smiled back. “Everyone’s in a bit of a tizzy at the moment.”

“Except you,” he noted a little quizzically. “The very picture of calm and collected.”

“How many times has he nearly died?” she asked, turning and heading into the living area with the pups on her heels. “Every other week, really, right?”

Glancing sideways at Jazz, Subaru followed, shrugging awkwardly. It was clear to Jazz that Subaru didn’t have the words, not to comfort Miho, or himself. True, Subaru and Goto always bickered, but their actions had proven time and time again they were best friends.

“Tea? Coffee?” Miho chirped, obviously attempting to change Subaru’s grim expression.

“Yeah,” he answered ambiguously, scrutinising the house’s interior as he trailed Miho and Jazz into the kitchen.

“Yeah what?”

“What happened here?” he replied, only looking more confused. “This place is spotless.”

Another blunder for anyone who knew Goto was a bit on the untidy side.

“Are you suggesting my home is usually a mess?” Miho sniffed.

“Well, no,” he stumbled. “But there’s clean, and then there’s I could eat off the tiles clean.”

“We’ve been keeping busy,” Jazz clarified.

“Because work isn’t enough to keep us occupied apparently,” Miho dropped sarcastically.

“Should you even be wandering around?” he then asked of Jazz, who while obviously pregnant did not seem to be in any discomfort.

“Being pregnant isn’t a disability, you know,” she grunted, then dropped her voice. “Unlike being an idiot.”

....

READ MORE HERE!

[hotcocosharing]

Lose To Win Chapter 20: Wish Comes True

Title: Lose To Win Chapter 20 Fandom: Kiss By The Baddest Bidder & Her Love In The Force Rated: Drama, Thriller, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mystery? MPD’s MC: Mika HIJIKATA KBTBB’s MC: Mia SAKATA Characters: Goto, Kaga, Shuichi, Eisuke, Soryu, Mamoru, Baba, Ota

Summary: Soryu, Mika & Kaga had threesome, well if you miss it, go have some fun here. Seeing the world through their eyes while one with Kaga’s POV, they have got some BAD News- assassins on the cruise. Twist after twist during Kaga’s investigation too…. (more summary at the end of fic)

Tagging:  adrienneloves so you’d know what happens to Soryu and Mika. silver-red-rose & hifftn who’ve always been here for me :’( Thank you! I know this series is taking forever and if you’ve missed my feeds or simply want to know what happens next, let me know and I’ll tag you. Background: Mika went to the Tres Spades Hotel under Eisuke’s request. (Order) and led to seeing her ex- Hyogo Kaga. With Jin Namba’s persuasion, Eisuke agrees to work with Public Safety, going on an eight days cruise trip with Kaga, Goto and Mika. What kind of mystery and danger await? You have no idea!

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ Chapter 1: The Reunion Chapter 2: RSVP Chapter 3: Recharge Chapter 4: Welcome Back Chapter 5: Decision Of A Lifetime Chapter 6: Our Story Chapter 7: Stress Release Chapter 8: Play Thing Chapter 9: What The Three Words Mean Chapter 10: A Real Man Chapter 11: The CEO Chapter 12: Boarding Chapter 13: What Did You Wish For? Chapter 14: Don’t Tease Me Chapter 15: One Hell Of A Night Chapter 16: Feeling Lucky? Chapter 17: Left In The Past Chapter 18: Poker Face Chapter 19: To Victory

Chapter 20: Wish Comes True

PS: I’ve included links on previous chapters to refresh some memories

Soryu’s World Surprise to find himself alone in the room with Mika lying so peacefully on the same bed nearly has Soryu Oh fooled that they are no longer on the cruise for a ridiculous so-called mission or in his wildest dream to wish that she and he could have met in completely different circumstances. The pain of knowing how much she despises him nearly vanishes without a trace till she swifts and turns to the other side, leaving Soryu to sit up straight with trains of bitterness and vivid images of their shared steamy moments with Kaga emerges in his pounding head. He could deny it all he wants but it doesn’t change the fact that his hope of having the slightest chance with Mika Hijikata is totally crushed.

In truth, Soryu has plenty of time to shower but perhaps he isn’t quite ready to wash away the last proof of their intimacy just yet. Heading straight to Eisuke’s suite first thing has somehow become a habit of his, so natural that he never thinks twice about it. As annoying as Eisuke can be, Soryu feels at ease with him though it would be better not see the drunken state of the others or entering a room which reeks of alcohol.

The serious look on Eisuke’s face has Soryu on high alert and immediately tossing whatever’s been bothering his mind out the door. "You’ll need to find out everything on Akihiro Saji and his wife, she could be useful since you had fucked her already.“

Clearing his throat uncomfortably as Mia places down Eisuke’s coffee, Soryu glares at his best friend who shrugs in return. Even knowing that Mia has always been shy and blushes over-easily still bother Soryu. Whether she’s the twin of Mika or the possibility of her spilling his "secret” during sister’s talk, it still greatly bothers him when others know his business.

After a quick call to Samejima, Soryu leaves the VIP suites and meets him in his room, still wondering if he should get the Public Safety involves in this. Eisuke doesn’t trust them fully, of course, and neither does Soryu enjoys working with the police but if it’s beneficial then what’s the harm? Once he has finished typing, he reads the message twice before sending with the question of how Mika would react if she finds out he has slept with someone else, the wife of their person of interest. Would she be jealous? Would she care at all? Exhaling heavily, Soryu rests his eyes a bit and lets his mind brings him back to the night he’s spent with Chiyoko- the mysterious and seductive woman he now regrets terribly forever laying eyes on. (click to read what happened previously)

Mika’s World You shudder awake, sitting up with sore legs and glancing around the room to find no one but yourself. The sun peeks through the curtains as you clutch the luxurious and soft covers to your chest, wanting the last piece of comfort before dragging yourself out of bed. (Well, you need time to feel your legs again.)

Time is one thing you don’t have yet letting your impulsiveness get the better of you has earned you some rare but incredible threesome between your ex and a mobster you swear not to get involved with again. Honestly, you have such little self-control when it comes to men, perhaps you should quit drinking for good. 

After a rushed shower, you head back into the shared room with Goto- thankfully he isn’t there to witness your walk of shame. Once you’ve changed into something decent, you hurry back to the cafe just in time for the last round of buffet breakfast. Guests are chit chatting, gossiping about the poker game and how their wishes have come true. You can’t help but suspect the ulterior motive of the stunt and this whole cruise experience, seriously where the heck is Goto and Kaga when you need them?!

Then speak of the devil, you see Kaga sitting at a corner table with his eyes set on the same waitress who he’s helped last night. Without jumping to conclusion, you wait and watch him. He must have good reasons to be onto her, Kaga being himself is just reluctant to share this information.

20 minutes later, the waitress is due for her break and Kaga follows but just as you reluctantly leave the delicious omelet unfinished, an elderly man who stumbles onto your ex has stopped him from following his target. And you know damn well that Hyogo Kaga stops at nothing when it comes to a case so something else is up. A text from Goto has however changed your priority as it says, “Our room, now!” Without asking where you’ve been all night or what you’re doing prior returning to the room, Goto wears a far more serious expression on his face which has you curious. “I had a call with chief this morning and Soryu Oh just then. We have leads.” “Good news then?”

The expected question doesn’t seem to lighten up his mood as he pulls out two photos, “This is Star and Hakura.” “That’s the waitress Kaga has eyes on.”

Hearing a sigh from your roommate and longtime friend, Goto looks at you with his eyes darken before spilling the juice of the news. “They are trained assassins.”

Silence shrouds the room, his words hang in the heavy air as you try to make sense of it all. Ayumu must have told Kaga at some point but Mr. Know it all simply doesn’t care to share with any of you, not because he doesn’t trust you he’d defend. Curse his freaking motto of the fewer people know about it the better, why can’t he ever learn! Hasn’t he been through enough times to know to always trust his team? Why does he always have to play solo and hero when none of you need that sort of nonsense and protection. Goto goes on explaining what Jin has said, this whole cruise trip is considered as some kind of test run with specific requests or targets from special guests. There could a possible hit list and that stunt of wish comes true must be the front for this special service. Head in your hands with fingers pressing lightly into your temples, you’d feel the irritation creep along with a headache and patience already running thin just by imagining the conversation you would have with Eisuke Ichinomiya. 

Kaga’s POV

By the fourth cup of coffee, the bloody waitress is finally taking a break. She might even get in touch with the other target if I’m lucky, someone else has distracted me just as I am about to follow her to the staffs’ exit. An elderly man with short grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard in a long brown coat keeps apologizing while his shaky hands hold onto the briefcase in his chest like his dear life depends on it. I look and watch the girl leaves my sight, I could have caught up to her but my instinct tells me otherwise.

The secret Mr. Hijikata (Mia and Mika dad, see here for details) has shared now rings in my head so I follow a new target instead. Could this be the worried father? Is he paying ransom or still anxiously waiting for instructions? I don’t exactly have a plan but things often turn out fine, even when they don’t, I’ll find a way. I always do. With his shoulders slumped and eyes checking his surrounding every three minutes, the man does fit the type. The briefcase he’s carrying isn’t big enough for a large sum of bills unless he’s been asked to deliver the cash separately. Despite how easy this seems to be, he’s approached by the pretty blonde I’ve been watching whole morning. Playing the helpful staff, she points and escorts the man to another direction. Slowly and slyly trailing behind the two, I find myself in an empty deck after they’ve turned into a corner. Either they vanish into thin air or they’d walk right through walls. The unexpected turn of events continues as I turn to see the mob boss giving me an unpleasant look. Not that I give a damn but it’d be such fun to mock and remind him of last night, his stern tone of warning becomes extra alarming. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Before I’d push his hands away from my shoulders or tell him to fuck off. A sharp and low groan escapes Soryu Oh’s clenched teeth as something small barely grazes past my cheek. Turning to the right, there’s a dark figure bailing. 

The deck is quiet, the sea remains calm, no one has heard a thing. A silencer must have been used but the newly heavyweight that hangs over my shoulder has my attention shifted, momentarily. 

Dragging the mobster for cover, he quickly falls to the ground with a thud. “You’re not dying yet, are you tough guy?“

I couldn’t really see his face as my eyes are back to where the shot’s fired. "I’ll get help.” With one last glance at the wounded man, I lift myself up and climb over to the next deck, chasing the sniper who’s about to disappear but the image of Soryu Oh lying on the floor with the shades of dark red soaking through his dress shirt has occupied my mind, momentarily, again. Multitasking is not my thing, let alone running and calling at the same time but all I’d manage is pressing speed dial and yelling without thinking. “Sixth floor, north-west corner outside the cafe, NOW!”

NOTES: This has not been easy, not in the slightest way. Frankly, the real drama is only just beginning, I have much more planned but not well plotted. Smut is easy, angst is a piece of cake but connecting the dots with only certain scenes/ideas- it’s getting tough. To every single one who’s been following and reading this series, thank you. I understand sometimes it’s hard to know what to comment but reading it still makes me happy- at least someone is bothered to read my work (one that I’ve spent hours and weeks, even months finishing.)

I love writing this series, especially when I have so much pain and sorrow in mind but not being able to put them together more or less stress me out. 

Storywise- if you aren’t too sure what just happened, here- 1. Soryu told Goto that he had slept with Chiyoko (Wife of Akihiro Saji- the man who owns this cruise) while Goto exchanged info there are 2 assassins  2. The waitress Kaga kept an eye on is Star (the female assassin who’s also a reader character from makingastar ) 3. The nervous guest Kaga was trailing is the client of Eiji Hijikata- Mika & Mia dad who’s a former cop and now private investigator on the cruise as a child’s life is at stake (the client’s son is kidnapped, ransom to be collected on cruise) 4. Soryu was shot, yes Kaga left him so he’d chase after the shooter.

See how much is going on?! But there’s MORE!

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Out of Office Drama: Flowers - Goto and Miho

It was strange.

Even though Jazz had only been at Miho’s a couple of nights, not having Goto in her bed, or not being in his bed, felt wrong.

And this made Miho happy. Not that she enjoyed the wrong feeling, but that Goto was there, in her thoughts and emotions, even when he wasn’t.

After sending Rose off on her mission to Shiki Publishing – about which Miho smirked – she headed out of the building to meet with her next client during his lunch break. He was the kind of man she didn’t think needed any help attracting women, but at the same time she knew full well that often it was those types exactly, who had difficulty finding the one.

So many women looking to marry into an easy life, easy money.

He was charming, good looking and courteous, and even after just one meeting, Miho already had a list of women he thought would match.

Returning to the office, she smiled at MJS’s relative new receptionist Izumi Takasaki, and he looked up and smiled.

“Flowers arrived for you, Miss Fujiwara,” he grinned. “I put them in your office, I hope that’s okay.”

“You know, somehow I feel like your mother when you call me Miss Fujiwara,” she huffed sitting herself on the edge of his desk, and he looked a little bit stricken.

“No no! I don’t mean… you’re not old enough to be my mother by a long shot,” he rushed.

“Right, so call me Miho, ugh Miho-san if you absolutely must,” Miho grumbled, but it was clear she wasn’t even close to being mad.

When Selina decided to take some vacation leave it had been someone Jazz knew they brought in to fill the administrative gap. Though hardly his dream job, his mind set on being a vet, Izumi was able to pull enough hours with MJS to keep himself alive, and still leave time enough o study.

And, of course, he was such a little puppy, he was simply fun to tease.

“Who’re the flowers from?” Miho questioned, though her thoughts had gone straight to Goto… of course.

The fact was, however, they did on occasion receive gifts from clients, even though it was procedure to tell them they wouldn’t be accepted.

“Card was sealed so, it could be any of your… um...” Izumi began, then thought better of finishing his sentence the way it had played out in his head. “Eh, but given you’re not doing dating simulations anymore, I think it’s a pretty safe bet to assume a certain, um, hunky fiancé is responsible?”

“He is hunky, isn’t he?” Miho giggled – yeah she giggled, like a friggin’ school girl. “Well I’m not going to complain,” she added, and wandered into her office to investigate.

The flowers were nothing short of spectacular, perhaps a couple of hundred dollars worth of beautiful blooms, and humming happily to herself like a lovesick moron, Miho plucked the envelope free and tore it open.

See you tonight.

 That’s all it said, but it was enough to put butterflies in her stomach. Flopping into her chair, Miho dug her phone from her bag and tapped out a message to Goto.

The flowers are gorgeous, thanks. Looking forward to some us time as well.

Jazz hadn’t stayed long, and thankfully she and Kuni had gotten their shit together quickly, but it not being a given she would have Goto beside her at some point every night, had been surprisingly taxing.

Allowing her good mood to carry her quickly through typing up her new client notes, Miho lost herself in the work zone until the shrill call of her ringing phone broke her free.

Seeing it was Goto made her feel stupidly giddy all over again.

“You’re clearly not working hard enough, Lieutenant, if you have time to make social calls,” she teased, but Goto’s reply was brisk.

“Miho, I didn’t send you flowers,” he stated flatly, and Miho’s stomach clenched.

“Oh,” she dropped. “The card wasn’t signed so, naturally I figured it was you.”

“Client?” he offered and though the word wasn’t cold, Miho felt guilty.

“Won’t lie, it happens from time to time, even though we tell clients not to,” she revealed.

“Card?” he prompted.

“Yeah,” she murmured – wanted to lie about what it said, but didn’t want to lie.

“Um… it said, see you tonight.”

Silence.

“I’ll pick you up from the office,” he declared. “I will be seeing you tonight.”

“Please try not to catastrophise,” she chided lightly.

“collecting my fiancée from work isn’t catastrophising,” he argued. “It’s prudent when she’s receiving flowers and promises from someone other than me.”

“You know I was an assassin in a past life, right?” she offered, but he remained serious.

“This is the only life I care about,” he growled. “Will you be ready by 7:30?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” she conceded, trying not to sigh. “But don’t complain later when I demonstrate my kungfu on you.”

“Kungfu all you like when we’re home,” he told her, his tone only now tempering toward affection. “And in the meantime…”

“I have no more appointments today,” she interrupted. “So I’ll be here at the office, so don’t stress.”

He didn’t deny he was stressing, but didn’t admit to it either.

“Send me a picture,” he said instead – an odd request.

Miho fell straight into the gutter.

“Mr. Goto!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with honey. “What kind of picture are you asking for exactly?”

Coughing noises answered, and Miho laughed, the image of his flushed face filling her mind’s eye.

“The flowers,” he said eventually, and she imagined him looking at the ground bashfully.

“God you’re cute,” she chuckled. “You want to run forensics on the flowers do you?”

“Just do it, Miho,” he grumbled. “I’ll see you at 7:30.”

It wasn’t often he flat out told her to do something, but she was too amused to notice, and with an I love you she hung up and sent him the picture he was after.

He replied with a simple thanks, leaving Miho to get on with her work – but now she knew the flowers weren’t from Goto, and that he was bothered by her having them, there was no help for it but to throw them out.

Izumi looked surprised when Miho appeared with the huge arrangement in her arms.

“Um… Miho? Do you need me to help you with that?”

“Nope, I got this. Just taking it out to the dumpster,” Miho clarified, awkwardly making her way toward the back of their ground floor rooms, unlocking the door, and stepping out into the alley where their dumpster was located. “What a waste,” she sighed, wondering if maybe she could get away with salvaging the lovely vase the flowers came in, or whether that would still irritate Goto.

“A waste,” came a voice suddenly behind her, and startled, Miho reflexively dropped the flowers.

The ceramic vase smashed against the wet asphalt, red roses scattering around Miho’s feet, and her guards came up.

He was as tall as her, a he by his build and voice -  but his face and his hair was obscured by a balaclava, and his dark clothing covered most of his skin.

“You didn’t like them?” he asked, taking one step closer to her, a testing step, and Miho’s reaction was to move diagonally around the edge of the dumpster toward MJS’s back door.

“They’re from you?” she questioned, her voice not shaking, but breathy.

In response, the masked man inclined his head. She could see his eyes, dark eyes, Japanese eyes, and they were studying her closely, coolly.

“Well… thank you but, I have a fiancé,” she forced out, shuffling again and reaching with one hand for the door handle.

“Wait,” he snapped, and though Miho wanted nothing more than inside she froze.

“Don’t,” Miho hissed, gritting her teeth, lips peeled back and her fingers flexing in and out of fists. “Leave, and don’t come back,” she blurted, and then made her move.

Reach.

Grab.

Turn.

Fling.

Rush.

Slam.

Lock.

By the time her back pressed against the inside of the door, she was panting.

The ambiguous message with the flowers hadn’t thrown her, not even finding out Goto hadn’t sent them had caused her much concern – but a man in a disguise creeping up on her in an alley outside her place of work?

Yeah that got her.

“Holy shit,” she shuddered out, not quite sure what to do with herself.

“Hey Miho,” Rose greeted, coming down the hallway. “I’m going to make tea, do you want some?”

But Miho just kind of stared like she hadn’t heard her, hadn’t seen her, and this caused Rose to pause and make a more serious study of the other woman’s face.

“Miho?” she prompted, drawing closer, and only then did Miho’s eyes narrow and seem to focus.

“Ahh, Rose,” she exhaled, shaking her head. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Your hands are shaking,” Rose observed, scowling. “What’s wrong?”

Miho bit her lip, fiercely, and it remained that way for some time until she managed to answer in a low and quiet voice.

“There was a man, in the alley,” she explained. “Balaclava, I was…”

“Did he hurt you?” Rose hissed, snatching Miho’s right hand and giving it a squeeze.

“No,” Miho assured, dragging in a deep breath and straightening. “Just surprised me.”

“Izumi!” Rose barked, and Miho cringed.

Like he’d fallen out of his chair in fright, Izumi appeared with a startled look on his face.

“Call the cops,” Rose instructed. “Miho was just approached by creeper.”

“What? Here?” Izumi blinked. “Miss Fujiwara, did he…”

“No, no I’m okay,” Miho muttered, shaking her head again. “Go ahead and call the police,” she then continued, but as she clawed out of the moments of threat outside, she knew what calling the police would also mean. “Rose…”

But she didn’t get to finish.

“I’ll make some tea,” the other woman asserted with a definitive nod.

Regaining her faculties, Miho went back to her office and picked up her mobile phone.

“Oh this is going to hurt,” she murmured, then dialled Goto.

He didn’t answer, which was perhaps a small blessing, and so Miho left a voice message.

“You know, this is a real pain in the ass,” she began with another sigh, “but… there was a guy, the one who sent the flowers, in the alley out the back of our building. He didn’t touch me, and I’ve already called MPD, so there’s no need to rush over here – I’m fine, just… you know…”

There she floundered a little.

Truthfully, logically, this guy hadn’t harmed her in any physical way, though the balaclava said loud and clear he didn’t want his identity known and that was the biggest red flag of them all. Still, the what ifs and the could haves played on her mind, made her shift uneasily in her chair and really wish Goto was there.

“Unless MPD need me to go somewhere,” she continued finally. “I’ll be staying here, indoors, until 7:30 so don’t feel like you need to come early…”

It was difficult for her to admit weakness – she was just an in-charge kind of person.

“… but, I am looking forward to seeing you.”

Hanging up was surprisingly difficult considering he wasn’t actually listening to her talk in real time.

“Miss Fujiwara,” Izumi said quietly from the doorway, and Miho’s head snapped up.

“Miho,” she corrected, forcing a smile to her lips.

“MPD is sending someone over now,” he informed her, his young face so stiff and serious. “I’m going to take a look outside, make sure he’s not still hanging around.”

“No,” Miho countered, leaning back in her chair just as Rose brushed passed Izumi, a steaming cup in her hand. “Who knows what ideas this person has. You don’t need to be provoking him.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t kick his ass into next week,” Rose snorted, putting the tea on Miho’s desk.

“Yeah well, he caught me off guard,” Miho grumbled, blushing a little. “And he didn’t try to grab me or anything so an ass kicking might have been premature.”

At this, Rose sniffed.

“And I’m fine, thank you both,” Miho added. “Izumi just let me know when the police arrive. I’m going to text Jazz and H so they know to be careful.”

 They left Miho alone until the police arrived, though Miho knew both Izumi and Rose weren’t far away – not hovering, but on edge and ready to run in should she call. It was sweet, especially since she hadn’t known them that long – but that was how MJS was.

Family.

The police came and went, taking her statement, checking the premises and making a few security suggestions here and there, before moving to the Tax Accountant and Dentist offices that also shared the building.

Miho returned to Mr. Tachibana’s profile, tapping away on her keyboard intermittently, but her mind kept returning to something that now seemed to bother her more than anything else.

Familiarity.

There was no placing it, but something about her mysterious fan was not so foreign to her. The most obvious answer was he had been a client, which is what she had suggested to the police, but she had frustrated even them when she refused to give them a list of said clients.

Even the ones they had decided against taking on were protected by the same confidentiality clause as existing and past clients, so it made for a difficult situation.

“I should call Takao,” she told herself, reaching for her phone until…

“Is she in her office?” Goto questioned, but his voice got louder as the short sentence progressed, telling her he was moving at speed and not waiting for an answer.

“It’s not even seven yet,” she huffed, getting to her feet.

Covering up how much of a relief it was.

“I didn’t run any red lights,” he scowled, taking her face between his hands and looking her up and down. “And I happened to finish my paperwork early.”

Those eyes of his were a ferocious squall of protectiveness and tightly wound rage; normally so calm, often seen as impassive, anger for him was a battle, one he fought for her in that moment.

“I’d say don’t fuss, but you’re going to no matter what I do,” she chuckled, leaning in to kiss him lightly before laying her head on his shoulder.

“I’m just going to have to convince Ishigami to assign me as your bodyguard,” he sighed into her hair, arms folded around her, muscles tensed against her back.

“All he did was talk,” Miho said, muffled against his jacket.

“Gifts, suggestive messages and a personal visit isn’t nothing, Miho,” he responded sternly.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t nothing,” she grumbled. “I’ll be careful.”

“I know you’re not not careful,” he stated, pulling her away a little so he could look into her face. “And I know how hard it must be for people to not fall in love with you.”

“For the ones that don’t know me very well anyway,” she snickered, and finally she got a smile.

“You ready to head home?” he asked, and Miho separated from him to grab her bag and laptop.

“Yeah.”

“My place,” he determined, his hand in the small of her back as she passed through the door.

“Jazz and Mr. Aikawa made up you know, so my apartment is good to go again,” she informed him.

“Hm, you downgraded him to Mr. Aikawa?” Goto noted, nodding a serious thankyou nod to Izumi

“He’s going to have to earn back friendly privileges by treating Jazz with a whole lot more respect, consistently,” she sniffed, obviously still irritated by some or all of Jazz and Kuni’s whole situation.

“Hope you never get that mad at me,” Goto frowned, and Miho nudged his shoulder with her head.

“No promises,” she grinned, then latched onto his arm, while looking at Izumi. “Make sure Rose doesn’t take a train home,” she instructed. “Cabs on the expense account, you too.”

“No worries, Miss Fujiw…” he began, but stopped when Miho sent him a warning look.

Being as new as he was, he put up with a lot from the girls and did so without much backlash – this time, however, a somewhat impish smile tweaked his lips.

“Mrs. Goto?”

And Goto stumbled just a little bit, Miho with him – but he was definitely the one to blush.

“I like the sound of that,” she smirked, then childishly poked her tongue out at Izumi before she urged Goto to head outside.

 Typically, Goto’s place was a mess, though it seemed he had been trying to be more tidy since she began visiting on a regular basis.

“Sorry,” he apologised sheepishly when she was forced to step around several stacks of folders and papers on the floor next to the coffee table.

“So you finished your paperwork at work early, because most of it’s here,” she snickered, grabbing a hoodie and a stray sock from the back of the couch and beginning a collection of laundry.

“Hardly,” he groused, but he didn’t sound all that burdened, in fact, he hadn’t really gone that far into the apartment.

He stood, just watching Miho wandering around, getting busy with ‘wife stuff’.

“Seriously Goto Seiji,” Miho said out of nowhere, stopping and looking at him sharply, “if you make some comment about wife stuff, you’re sleeping on the couch, if you can find any space.”

“The narrator would never depict me as being so misogynistic,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. “And I don’t think I am – I just… like having you here.”

“Now you’re trying to seduce me?” she questioned pointedly, dropping the bundle of clothes and planting her hands on her hips.

“Umm, I wasn’t,” he said slowly, his brows twitching as he gauged her mood, “but it might be a nice side product… if it’s working.”

“Like you even need to try,” she smirked, blowing him a kiss, but his step toward her faltered when her next move was not toward him, but to gather up the clothes again. “But I guess you should have done your laundry first,” she called out in a teasing voice from the bathroom.

After cleaning and tidying was complete, Goto and Miho ate a simple dinner an then turned in for the night.

Despite their earlier talk, beneath the blankets their bodies lay mostly still – entwined, but simply enjoying being close to one another.

“Tomorrow I’ll see what I can do about a couple of days off,” Goto said, breaking the comfortable silence, idly curling a strand of Miho’s hair around his finger. “I’d like you to meet my parents… and my brother I guess.”

“He’s pretty young hmm? Considering you’re an old man and all,” she goaded, but he returned fire with ease.

“I suppose that makes you ancient then?”

“Oh ho, I’ll have you know I look relatively young for my age,” she sniffed, poking against his chest until he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Think that’ll fix everything huh? Smooth bastard.”

“Is it working?” he grinned, before kissing the flat of her palm.

“I’m going to work you,” she growled, rolling on top of him and sitting up, straddling him and triumphantly staring down.

“And I am not going to argue,” he smiled.

 MPD were unable to catch Miho’s disguised visitor on any nearby cctv, despite there being a number of cameras in the area. The flowers had been delivered by the florist, and the courier was confirmed as being elsewhere at the time of Miho’s encounter in the alley.

Ultimately, the office was a bit tense, and Jazz and Miho had to go over the expenses to increase security in the building, and a proposal to get the other two businesses to pay their share.

Though the other girls met their clients out of the office, Izumi called Miho’s appointments and arranged times they could come to her, much to her irritation, and Goto’s satisfaction. Jazz ‘escorted her’ to the café and the store when required during the day, even though Miho muttered about her having much better things to do. When she became too much of a handful, H and Rose stepped in.

She didn’t put up that much of a fight, though it was clear in her sullen expression she was not enjoying ‘being taken care of’. It was sweet Goto wanted to protect her and wasn’t super overbearing about it, and, not that she needed it, there was proof of her friendships in the way they too went above and beyond to make sure there were no nasties lurking around corners or under her desk.

Yes, Jazz even checked under Miho’s desk.

Sadly, Goto was not there.

None of it seemed to impede her ability to work, and much to Rose’s chagrin, it didn’t stop Miho from giving her a professional reprimand about all the marks she finally noticed on Rose’s skin.

Everything else seemed all quiet – no more gifts, no more surprise appearances, and after a few days MPD told Miho there wasn’t anything more they could do without a potential suspect or clues that might lead them to one. She knew Goto was itching to get involved, or at least lean on someone else who could, but Miho warned him against caving in to that impulse. After all, it wasn’t like MJS didn’t have police connections and friends, clients, employees even – but MPD was right. It wasn’t their job to act like a bodyguard, no crime had been committed, and there was no hard evidence suggesting one might be.

So removing Miho from Tokyo for a while was Goto’s best option, and of course it served to kill two birds with one stone.

On the bullet train to his hometown, where his parents and brother still lived, he stuck to her like glue. When Miho pointed out how people were looking at them, how sick in love they must have looked because of the way he always had at least one hand on her, his reaction was as one might predict.

“I don’t care,” he asserted flatly, his tone contrasting the shade of his cheeks. “If someone snatched you out from under my nose, I’d never forgive myself.”

“As if you wouldn’t notice,” she grinned, their arms looped as they sat next to each other, Miho on the window side. “I’d be screaming so loud they’d hear me back in Tokyo.”

“You do have quite the set of lungs,” he noted with a cheeky nod.

“Like that is it?” she sniffed, slithering her hand into his lap and stroking downward slowly.

“Wah… what are you doing!” he exclaimed in an urgent hiss, snatching her wrist.

“Now who’s being loud?” she grinned broadly, reaching for him with her other hand, which he also caught and held firmly.

“Really? Right here, on the train?” he muttered, hoping no one could see the blaring red beacon that was his flustered face.

“It’s not my fault I can’t keep my hands to myself,” she pouted, but didn’t struggle. “I need to make up for lost time.”

“I think we did plenty of that last night,” he pointed out, relaxing his hold.

“So you don’t want to join me in the lavatory?” she offered suggestively.

“Damnit Miho,” he muttered, and she laughed.

“Fiiiiine,” she sighed. “But if your parents hear us going at it, you’ll regret letting me get all pent up.”

For a second it looked like he was going to comment on that, and Miho could almost hear him ask, ‘when are you ever not pent up?’ He did, however, keep it to himself, because he had a fair idea how she’d have responded, and he wasn’t sure if he could survive her grinding in his lap on the train.

Even if he actually really wanted her to.

Poor Goto.

Miho tried to keep her teasing to a minimum for the rest of the trip, but it was a way to curb some of the nerves tying knots inside her. Forget creepy stalker dude, meeting the in-laws… and it wasn’t just meeting the in-laws, because that in and of itself should have been a breeze – it was explaining, without lying, the circumstances of their meeting, the development of their relationship and well, Miho’s occupation, even though she felt absolutely no shame.

We already knew that, huh?

Outside the station they caught a taxi.

“You’re fidgeting,” Miho noticed, putting a hand on Goto’s thigh, this time not because she wanted into his pants – well, not specifically anyway. “You know, if you’re nervous, I’m going to be nervous.”

“I know I shouldn’t be,” he told her, clearly embarrassed. “But I just… want them to love you like I do.”

“I might want to screw you sideways every chance I get, Seiji, but I can be loveable and totally daughter-in-law material.”

Goto glanced to see if the cab driver heard what Miho had said before responding.

“You don’t have to be anything other than yourself,” he told her gently, putting his hand over hers.”

“Daaw,” she grinned, dropping her head onto her shoulder. “Still, I do want them to like me.”

“They will,” he assured her, and his leg stopped twitching.        

There was no time to hesitate outside of the Goto residence. The moment the taxi came to a stop outside the house a beaming woman exited and all but bounced to greet them.

“Seiji it’s been too long!” she grinned, leaping up to throw her arms around Goto’s shoulders. “But under the circumstances…”

“You’re making a scene,” Goto grumbled bashfully, prying his mother free, only to find Miho smiling.

“Cute,” she commented, shouldering her handbag and watching the pair.

“What do I have to do to get you to stop calling me that?” he groaned, his shoulders slumping a little, but Miho looked unrepentant.

“Oh you two are both so cute,” Goto’s mother chirped, clutching her hands to her chest, peering between them.

“But rude, Mrs. Goto,” Miho put in, bowing to the woman. “I’m Fujiwara Miho, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh no don’t be silly!” Goto’s mother was quick to dispel any formality. “Call me Haruka, or…”

“Haruka will be fine for now,” Goto interjected, knowing perhaps it would take a little more for Miho to be ready to call her mother.

“Oh Seiji, she’s stunning,” Haruka gushed, taking Miho’s hand as Goto paid the taxi driver. “Where on Earth did you find someone so lovely?”

“I’ll have to ask the same thing of your husband, Haruka,” Miho chuckled. “I’d say you look far too young to have adult children, but I don’t want to just repeat Voltage verbatim.”

Haruka opened her mouth to comment, no doubt, upon the plot limitations of the Voltage franchise, when the growl of a motorbike drew close.

All eyes turned to the figure that approached, then came to a stop as the taxi pulled away. He was dressed in full motorcycle protective gear, his identity concealed, and for a moment, Miho tensed – but when he removed his helmet the resemblance to Goto was far too similar for the young man to be anything other than a relative.

“Issei!” Haruka exclaimed, latching onto his arm and just about dragging him from his bike. “Perfect timing. This is Fujiwara Miho, Seiji’s fiancée.”

Issei seemed to take his mother’s exuberance in his stride, but looked a little surprised at the news. Apparently Goto hadn’t gotten around to personally telling his brother.

“That’s why you wanted me to come home this weekend?” he frowned a little.

“I see good looks run strong in this family,” Miho mused, and that actually drew Issei’s attention to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He blinked as she bowed, but managed to smooth away some of the irritation in his face when she rose and smiled at him.

“I didn’t realise my brother had such good taste,” he noted – meant both as a compliment to her and a swipe at Goto. “You’re here for the weekend?”

“If you’ll have me,” Miho nodded.

“So polite,” Haruka sighed. “Come on, your father is inside waiting. Issei, help Seiji with their bags.”

With Haruka clinging to her arm, Miho was guided to the Goto family home, and introduced to Goto’s father – grief they’re all Goto’s so I’m going to have to use their first names now sheesh.

Over tea, Miho and Seiji laid out the story of their eventual engagement.

“You didn’t tell me you were enlisting help to find a wife,” Haruka chided. “Oh my, I have a list as long as my arm – but then again, of course you’d not have met Miho if I’d done that so I suppose it’s well enough.”

“I’m glad I didn’t,” Seiji declared.

He had been struggling throughout not to blush. Miho was plain and forward in her explanations, and while she didn’t mention the sexual nature of the date simulation – indicating there were simply some things she couldn’t say for legal and privacy reasons – she was clear about her resistance to him until he’d pushed and pushed for her to let go of her baggage and accept her true feelings.

“Why him?” Issei asked.

He’d sat, a little sullen, though it didn’t seem to fitting for a young man to do so, and said nothing until that point. Miho knew he and Seiji weren’t close, and so she was not entirely caught off guard by the question.

“Dedication, kindness, skill, persistence, intelligence, professionalism, drive… I could go on,” she replied, casting a sideways glance at Seiji beside her, and this time he could not hold the heat back from his face. “I wasn’t looking for love, still carrying around the burden of the one I’d lost, but there he was, knowing it well before I did, that he and I just… work.”

“There are much better men around than him,” Issei shrugged, and Seiji scowled.

“Don’t even,” he warned. “Especially since I’ve asked Subaru to be best man.”

It hadn’t occurred to Miho that Seiji hadn’t asked his brother to fill that role, but thought considering they didn’t really get along that well, it wasn’t especially surprising. What she did note, was how Issei’s expression changed when Subaru was mentioned.

“Actually we’re going to need at least one more groomsman, since there are two bridesmaids,” Miho put in, studying Issei the way she did her clients. “Selina will need a partner.”

“Subaru will be there?” Issei queried, but that had already been answered – when he sought in the asking was reassurance it was true.

“Am I missing something here?” Miho questioned, looking between Issei and Seiji, then to Haruka.

“Oh Subaru is simply wonderful,” the latter clarified cheerily. “He and I can talk for hours.”

Seiji’s father, Shinichi, just sighed a small sigh. He hadn’t said much, but his expression was very much like Seiji’s resting face – it looked severe, but beneath it Miho thought the same gentleness was present.

“I see,” Miho chuckled, looking to Seiji again, this time with a teasing, knowing smirk. “Subaru is a family favourite? Perhaps I have made a terrible mistake.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, and thought she’d meant her poking as a joke, Miho regretted that he actually looked a little hurt.

And he wasn’t the only one who looked alarmed.

“Relax,” she grinned, patting his leg. “It seems Subaru is already spoken for anyway.”

Her eyes flickered to Issei, who looked relieved.

And when he caught her gaze, he smothered that expression with a frown.

“Well Subaru has a Harvard education anyway,” he declared, proud it seemed of Subaru’s achievements as if they were his own. “It’s not like someone like him would be interested in…”

“Issei, don’t finish that sentence,” Seiji cautioned seriously, and the air in the room suddenly chilled as brothers faced off.

Miho might have been offended, she could plainly see where Issei’s statement had been going, but she was much more interested in why the young man was so defensive about Subaru.

“What is it exactly you and he talk about, Haruka?” Miho asked pleasantly.

“Oh he’s good at so many things,” she replied cheerfully. “Cooking mostly, though, he is wonderful in the kitchen.”

Must not… must not smirk… must not smirk.

“Oh?” Miho verbalised instead. “I must admit, while I can follow a recipe, I’m not especially creative with my food.”

“Oh, perhaps you can help me with lunch?” Haruka offered, getting to her feet, and Miho joined her.

“I would love to.”

 While the men of the Goto household did whatever it was the men of the Goto household did when they weren’t glaring at each other… or maybe that’s what they were doing the whole time… Miho enjoyed Haruka’s merry personality. She was so welcoming, perhaps because she had two sons, no daughters, Miho felt completely welcomed and very much already like a member of the family.

At the same time, however, it reminded her of a time when she had been that close to her own mother: the family who eventually decided her crusade for justice following the death of her husband was more trouble than it was worth.

The family who thought she took it too far.

The family who…

“Miho?” Haruka queried, looking up into Miho’s face with concern.

“Oh, sorry,” she laughed, trying to shake off the sads. “It’s just, being here, received so warmly like this, reminds me how far from my own family I am. Will always be.”

“Is it really that hopeless?” Haruka asked. “Whatever you did, or, whatever they did, there’s no way to fix that damage?”

Sighing, Miho smiled, but she could see in Haruka’s eyes the other woman knew it was just a bandaid.

“Too much water,” Miho concluded with the shake of her head, and before she knew it, Haruka had thrown her arms around her and was squeezing her far more tightly than a woman of her small stature should have been able to.

“You don’t have to call me Mum,” Haruka sniffled into Miho’s shoulder. “But, I’ll be your mum anyway!”

With a shaky exhale, Miho closed her eyes against the sting.

And when she opened them again, Seiji was leaning against the kitchen door jamb watching, smiling placidly.

“You’re safe with Seiji,” Haruka told Miho, unaware of her son’s gaze.

“I know,” Miho smiled, blinking away a few tears and hugging Haruka back.

It was Shinichi who cleared his throat and broke the moment.

“Issei is about to chew through the furniture,” he stated flatly. “Heh, the metabolism of young men.”

“Sorry,” Miho laughed, and lunch was served.

 Miho had family – MJS – but being in the Goto family home, actually feeling a part of it, was so nostalgic that Miho continued to wander in and out of enjoyment and loss. Practiced, however, she maintained a mask now that perhaps only Seiji could see through, but in the presence of everyone else he made no enquires.

Later that evening, on the way to prepare for bed, Miho passed by the open door of Issei’s old room. The light was on, but Seiji’s brother wasn’t there. She nearly continued on her way, when something of interest caught her eye and caused her to pause.

There on the nightstand was a framed photograph signed Work Hard ~ Subaru, the man himself making a determined face, truly cutting a heroic image. Miho smiled.

Seiji was every bit what Subaru was, in Miho’s eyes more, and though she knew the brothers had never truly bonded as many brothers do, it did seem a little strange Issei had formed such a tight connection with someone so alike.

Or not strange at all.

“Hey,” came a voice behind her, and Miho actually started.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologised, stepping out of the way. “I just noticed that picture of Subaru as I was walking by; you really look up to him hmm?”

“What’s not to like?” Issei scowled oversensitively, and his following expression told Miho he knew his tone was telling.

“No, I completely agree,” she smiled, nodding. “Well educated, incredibly smart, exceptionally… handsome. You’ve got good taste.”

Issei’s eyes widened, and though the brothers did not get along, it seemed they shared blushing in common.

“Good night Issei, sweet dreams,” Miho offered with a wink, then shuffled down the corridor to Seiji’s room.

And as she entered the dim room where a futon of all things had been laid out in the centre of the room, arms closed around her from behind.

“Wah!” she exclaimed, her reflex to struggle, despite what was the unlikely event of someone other than Seiji being in there.

“Hey, hey,” he quickly soothed, swift words into her ear that stilled her body, but not the racing of her heart. “I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have… I didn’t even think.”

“No,” she breathed, but drooped her head back against him and took a few slow lungfuls of air before speaking again. “I’m way too jumpy.”

“Understandable,” he murmured, somehow closing the door over with his foot while maintaining his hold on her. “And I’m not helping.”

“You do, you are,” she reassured him. “Haruka is right; I’m safe with you… or maybe I’m not. You’re awfully bold grabbing hold of me like this in your parents’ house.”

“You think you’re the only one who pines?” he hissed against her neck before kissing it gently.

“Next time you think to chastise me for wanting to touch you, Seiji, I want you to remember this moment,” she smirked, turning slowly in his arms and wrapping herself around him.

There is no safer place.

 In slumber, however, it seemed Seiji wasn’t all powerful. Inside her sleeping mind, Miho drifted blissfully through the warmth of her welcome into the Goto household, her brush with Issei’s briskness aside – but her dreams didn’t stay there. They roamed beyond the boundary of happiness and slipped into a quagmire of unpleasant memories that caused her heart to ache. They weighed her down in a swamp, a marshy bog that threatened to swallow her – and no matter how loudly she screamed for Seiji to come to her rescue, there was only one figure on the shore.

Dark clothing.

Face masked.

Bouquet of red roses in one hand.

And this persisted until she somehow forced herself awake.

Night was still thick, and Seiji remained asleep beside her with just his arm draped over her.

For a few minutes she just laid here, trying to relax, but each time she closed her eyes uneasiness returned: until finally she couldn’t be still.

Careful not to wake Seiji, Miho shimmied from under the covers, wrapped herself in her long robe, and exited the bedroom. On silent, bare feet – she was an assassin in a past life remember (yeah wait for me to write THAT fic… it WILL happen) – she padded down the hall, past the closed door of Seiji’s parents’ room, and the slightly ajar door of his brother. Quietly she let herself out onto the back veranda, even though the shadow mottle yard held some apprehension.

“Stop being such a god damned pussy,” she reproached herself bitterly, closing the door behind her and sitting herself down in the pale moonlight. “What are you even afraid of?” she asked herself. “Some weirdo that sends you flowers this one time? Like that hasn’t happened before.”

There was that one time her panties kept going missing, and she’d blamed Jazz – not that Miho’s undies would even fit Jazz. Then there was that time with the guy that delivered their water-cooler bottles and strangely erotic sticky-notes all over the office.

“So what makes this so fucking terrifying?” she hissed, then just about jumped out of her skin when a blanket dropped around her shoulders. “Holy fu…!”

Launching from the veranda onto the grass, Miho flew from beneath the fabric and spun, feet planet just far enough apart for a solid stance, her brain ready to fight off her attacker – but Issei just stare at her in shock, until he frowned and pressed his lips together and looked unimpressed.

“You guys have a fight or something?” he asked flatly, but for him to have been close enough to wrap the blanket around her, he must have heard her utterances, at least some of them.

“Jesu…” Miho gasped, ordering her muscles to unclench, but they defied her and remained tense. “Issei… you scared the life out of me. Were you an assassin in a pa…”

“What are you so terrified of?” he questioned, his tone unchanged, and Miho shook her head, perhaps to dispel the panic, maybe to shake off how odd it was to be looking up at what she imaged was Seiji’s younger self.

“Being snuck up on, obviously,” she hissed, swallowing the lump in her throat and carefully adjusting her robe, shivering at a gust of wind that murmured a harsh song through nearby branches. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“Saw you sneak past,” he shrugged, picking up the fallen blanket and spreading it between his hands. “You’re going to get sick sitting out here in the cold.”

This was Miho’s lifeline, and she even managed to chortle.

“You’re more like your brother than you’d ever admit I think,” she said wryly, stepping back up onto the veranda and toward him, then stopped just shy of his reach. “And more different than you’d ever say aloud.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he grumbled, glowering, even as he fluttered the blanket around her shoulders and tucked snuggly to her front, careful not to be indecent.

“That you’ve an amazing, talented, highly skilled brother you could have worshiped,” she smiled. “But, it’s not like you could fall in love with him. Subaru is good man.”

Issei’s scowl deepened and he stepped back, but he didn’t storm away. He turned his back on her and glared at something invisible in the middle of the yard.

“I’m sorry,” Miho exhaled. “It’s not my place to make wild assumpti…”

“How did you even know?” he whispered, and unlike all the other times she’d heard him speak, in the very short time she’d known him, this time he sounded so very small.

“I may not have a Harvard degree,” Miho began quietly, gently – she was not the only fragile one in the world, “but it’s a large part of my job to read people, see the things they’re afraid to articulate because they fear being judged, because only in revealing those things to me can I properly find the person who is right for them.”

Again she sat herself down, clutching the blanket.

“I take it no one else knows?”

“Ha, like that’s so easy,” he snorted, pressing his balled fist to the nearest support post.

An admission, and as if suddenly realising as much, he spun around and stared daggers so sharp Miho was actually impressed.

“Don’t you dare say anything, especially not to Seiji,” he snarled, but Miho was now calm.

“It’s not my secret to tell,” she told him softly. “But I bet it’s hard, keeping it all to yourself – does no one know?”

“Just you,” he huffed. “Leave it to Seiji to ruin my life.”

“Really? Someone knowing a part of your true self is ruination?” she snorted. “Give it a rest kid, life gets much harder from here on out.”

“What the hell would you know about it?” he snapped, stepping closer again, but Miho simply couldn’t feel threatened.

Too much a Goto.

“Sure, I don’t know your specific struggle, but everyone has them,” she replied honestly. “And I happen to know from personal experience, that sharing those things with people you trust, can help alleviate some of the pressure.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” he volleyed, but even in the dun she could see much of the heat had fled from his eyes – eyes that told her of torture.

“I’m as good a person as any,” she shrugged.

Issei ground his teeth, and Miho simply sat and peered around the yard, until the young man flopped down beside her.

“You know Subaru,” he began, voice even smaller than before, fearful of his sentence’s continuation, but he pressed on. “I… I don’t have a chance in hell, do I?”

For a few seconds Miho thought about how best to tactfully respond.

“I do know Subaru,” she conceded. “And, unfortunately for you, all signs point to no, simply because he’s not wired that way.”

Hanging his head, Issei let out a long breath of painful resignation.

“I already knew it,” he murmured forlornly. “Have known it, forever, just… didn’t want to… I don’t want to…”

“Yeah, I know,” Miho responded gently.

“It’s not fair!” he growled, the exclamation cutting its way between his teeth. “How come…”

“… everyone else gets to be happy except me?” Miho finished for him, and the quick jerk of his face in her direction shook angry, hurt tears from his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been there too,” Miho smiled sadly. “When you love something so much, and it’s taken from you, it’s like the whole world is mocking you with smiles, patronising you with false words of comfort, rubbing salt into the wound with everything will get better, when everything is in flames.”

“Ha, you’ve got all the answers, don’t you?” he sniffed, refusing to acknowledge the moist on his cheeks.

“Nah, I only like to think I do,” Miho smirked, giving his shoulder a nudge with her own. “But don’t tell Seiji I said that; as far as he’s concerned, I’m always right.”

“You really won’t say anything?” he ventured cautiously.

“Nope,” she responded, looking at him plainly. “I’ll just be around, on the other end of the phone, if you need a big sister to bitch to about how stupid men can be.”

Finally, Issei huffed a short laugh.

“I am happy for you and him, even if it doesn’t look like it,” he told her very quietly, embarrassed despite the rest of their conversation. “Jealous I guess.”

“Hey,” came another voice behind them, and both turned their heads to find Seiji standing in the doorway behind them. “What’s this?”

“Decided I couldn’t choose between the Goto brothers,” Miho announced in total calm. “And my conclusion is, we’re just going to have to have a threesome.”

The brothers both spluttered, but Miho grinned.

“That’s a yes right?” she added, really pushing the envelope, and Seiji swept forward and snatched her wrist, pulling her to her feet and against him.

“That’s a no,” he rumbled definitively.

“Jeez Seiji,” Issei muttered also getting to his feet. “Marrying a succubus?”

“What did you just say?” Seiji blinked, his body instantly taut with anger, but Miho just laughed and put a hand on his chest.

“He’s just jealous of his big brother’s success,” she explained.

“Issei,” Seiji barked, motioning to Miho face. “Her eyes are up here.”

“It is a bit chilly out here, huh Miho?” Issei added for good measure, and though Miho wanted to continue laughing, she could feel Seiji getting totally worked up – and not in a good way.

“Okay okay, that’s enough,” she snickered. “But it is cold and I can’t feel my toes, so we should go back to bed, Seiji.”

It took a considerable nudge to get him to move, but when Miho got Seiji moving he continued through the door with her close behind him.

Back in his room, Miho snuggled back against the curve of his body, happy to be little spoon – this time – and to warm her frozen tootsies on his warm legs.

“You going to tell me what that was all about?” he prompted, breath in her hair.

“Brother-sister bonding,” Miho told him, gently stroking his forearm. “You know, he acts all tough, and like he doesn’t think much of you, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

“You got all that from just one day?”

“It’s my job to profile people, remember?” she smirked, closing her eyes. “And this family… I really did luck out with you didn’t I?”

“Mhm,” he huffed. “No more midnight rendezvous with Issei, okay?”

“No problem,” she chuckled softly. “We’ll do brunch instead.”

 Breakfast was another extravagant indication that Haruka did nothing by halves, but more than that, Issei actually smiled.

“You’re in a good mood,” Seiji noted suspiciously, and Miho elbowed him in the ribs.

“Can’t a guy smile without getting the third degree?” she poked, and Seiji grunted a little.

“So what is your plan for today, Miho-san?” Shinichi asked reservedly, and Miho bit her lip at the absolute cuteness.

And she couldn’t help herself.

“I was hoping Seiji would show me around his old hometown, Father.”

And Shinichi actually started choking on his mouthful, Seiji, sitting to Miho’s left, very nearly mimicking him.

“Aww look what you did,” Haruka chuckled, patting her husband’s back but beaming over him at Miho.

“I’m sorry,” Miho apologised, inclining her head. “It’s just, I feel so comfortable here with you all already, his formality…”

“She’s our daughter now, pretty much,” she told Shinichi, who was still trying to recover his composure. “No need to be so stiff.”

“Could you pass the salad please, Miho?” Issei asked politely, and Miho could see he was doing it to illustrate Haruka’s point to his father.

“Sure thing, Issei,” she replied, leaning over Seiji to convey the bowl to her new brother’s awaiting hands. “You all right there, Seiji?” she grinned, and he nodded, clearing his throat.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, taking a sip from his glass of water, and it only made Miho’s smile widen.

After helping with the dishes, Seiji and Miho left the house. Together they meandered through streets where he grew up, and happily she listened to his childhood anecdotes, probing to pick apart his reluctance to give too many embarrassing details at times. The weather smiled on them, their lunch was simple, but Miho couldn’t help but reflect upon how lucky she was to have such wonderful company.

“If you keep smiling like that, you’ll get wrinkles,” he teased, pulling Miho against him and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“I hope I age as gracefully as your mother has,” she laughed. “She has so much energy, hmm, just think…”

She looked into his face, sliding her hand beneath the back of his jacket and looping her thumb over the top of his pants, right into the crease of his butt-cheeks.

“… what I could do with that much energy.”

Naturally, his eyes widened and his body tensed, but she loved that about him too.

“You’re going to kill me as it is,” he told her, but his voice was filled with the kind of affection that…

Swallowing, Miho fell silent and looked ahead.

“I feel like I need to pinch myself,” she exhaled after half a minute of just their feet shuffling against the footpath. “You, your family, it’s all just too perfect.”

“It’s real,” he told her seriously, stopping her, turning her and touching the underside of her chin with the flat of one index finger. “But,” he added, then kissed her ever so lightly, “if you want me to pinch you…”

Distracted, she hadn’t noticed his other hand until he’d already sharply pinched her bum, and she let out a yelp.

“You sneaky bastard!” she exclaimed, giving him a playful whack before linking arms with him.

“I guess you’re a bad influence on me,” he explained with a wry smile.

“Oh don’t you start that shit too,” she complained, but really, she took it as a compliment.

“Hmph,” he huffed contentedly. “You’re not the only one who feels fortunate,” he continued. “And I really can’t wait for this to be official.”

“Well, I guess we now know it’s not especially difficult,” she pointed out, shaking her head. “We can always just get everything registered as soon as we’re back in Tokyo.”

He seemed to be mulling this over.

“There is something to the anticipation though too, isn’t there?” she said, knowing it wasn’t hesitation that made him pause.

“There is,” he agreed. “And there are so many things we haven’t figured out, like where we’re going to live.”

“That’s a good point,” she nodded. “I like my apartment, and yours, but it would be nice if we could…”

“… get a place that’s ours?” he finished, and Miho narrowed her eyes at him.

“Mind reading now?”

 As they walked back to his parents’ home in the late afternoon, they threw out all kinds of suggestions for their future, and arrived at the house in great spirits.

“We’re back,” Seiji announced, having scooped up three padded postage envelopes from the doorstep. “You didn’t hear the mailman?”

“Oh hmm?” Haruka murmured, taking the envelopes from her eldest son, passing one over to her husband. “Could you give this to Issei, Miho? He’s in his room.”

“Sure,” Miho nodded, and off she went, to find him at his desk, a couple of textbooks open, headphones on.

She did clear her throat, but he didn’t hear her, and so she stepped inside, and put it down beside him, just in his peripheral vision.

His head turned to her slowly, and she smiled.

“Don’t mind me, just making a special delivery,” she told him, then headed to the toilet.

She couldn’t have known.

But she heard Haruka’s startled exclamation from the other end of the house, followed by Shinichi’s deep voice.

“What the hell… is this?”

When Miho returned to the living area, it was like the time had frozen.

Haruka sat at the dining table, glossy photographs scattered in front of her – Shinichi sat on the couch, glossy photographs scattered on the coffee table before him – and Seiji stood half way between them both, true horror in his eyes, chiselled into his face.

“What’s wrong?” Miho scowled, and her sudden intrusion in the silence caused time to catch up.

“Miho it’s…” Seiji began, but Miho had already zoned her vision in on Haruka’s collection.

“That’s…” she shuddered out, a gasp of shock so powerful it scrambled her thoughts.

Slowly, Haruka’s hands moved to cover her mouth, but she was unable to look away from the images before her.

Miho and another man, lean and blond, naked, connected.

In some pictures Miho was restrained, her wrists bound by scarves, her legs held apart and tied to bedposts; in some, her skin was peppered with wax dripping from a candle held over her breasts; in some, her arms were wrenched behind her so far it looked like her shoulders might pop, and her body, the man’s body, shimmered with the product of their labours.

“Wha…” Miho managed, turning her head to Shinichi.

He too continued to peer at the prints before him.

Miho and a stunning woman, slender and pale-skinned, naked, entwined.

In some pictures Miho was lying sprawled back on a bright pink shag-pile rug, the long copper waves of her partner’s hair brushing against her abdomen; in one they were clearly grinding together, their lips locked, their arms locked around one another; in another Miho’s head was tilted back into the pillow, the other woman’s head just visible between her legs.

“How…” Miho blinked, and then she darted with ninja-assassin like speed for Issei’s room. “Issei!” she barked. “Don’t…!”

But it was too late, and Miho felt the floor fall away.

Issei was sitting on the carpet, the entire contents of his envelope placed side by side. His jaw moved as if he was trying to form words, but there was no sound, just the trembling of incomprehensible disbelief and the chaotic gatherings of a shattered heart.

Miho lounging back on Subaru’s kitchen counter.

Subaru pressing her back up against the wall, her legs wrapped around him.

Subaru poised behind her, about to press in…

She had no idea how such photos had been taken, such angles, such clarity and detail – it was like someone had been in each room with them, a twisted record keeper holding the private moments of what were in truth professional transactions hostage until that moment.

That moment when they were placed into the hands of her fiancé’s family.

 And Miho didn’t know what to do.

 @hifftn @nitelotus @smutmylifeup @smile-smile-ichthys

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Out of Office Drama: Goto and Miho

Under normal circumstances, all meetings aside from the date scenario were conducted at MJS headquarters – so this one should have been no different.

However, Miho, in her infinite wisdom, made an exception.

Shouldn’t have for a great many reasons – some her own, some not – but did just the same.

The hotel bar was not of her choosing, but it was familiar enough for her to feel comfortable waiting on her own. In the early evening, she could take small sips from her shiraz and not seem like a complete lush; she definitely looked like a woman there to meet someone, though her attire and the presence of a laptop and manila folder peeking from the top of the handbag beside her, suggested at least it was not a social rendezvous.

This is a really, REALLY bad idea.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

She’d seen him enter of course, watched him glance around before spying her. His stride was purposeful but unhurried, and though he’d attempted to maintain eye contact as he approached, Miho had glanced down into her drink in a rather uncharacteristic display of cowardice? Bashfulness? Awkwardness?

Something like that.

“Just long enough for the wine to warm to the perfect temperature,” she responded lightly, finally lifting her eyes to his.

Inhale before the perfect storm – silver lined clouds threatening to break but not yet broken, gentle and controlled, power and potential evident but held in check.

“Are you all right?” he frowned, ducking his head a little to peer more closely at her expression, and Miho flinched.

“Distracted, sorry,” she apologised, shaking her head, and hopefully the stupidity from it. “Shall we grab a table?”

“Yes,” he nodded, motioning with a gentlemanly sweep of his hand that she lead him.

Just not on.

“Is this a usual haunt of yours?” she enquired, selecting a booth over a table.

“No, I rarely get time to enjoy places like this,” he admitted, waiting for her to be seated before doing the same, settling opposite, “and as you already know, I’m not much of a drinker.”

“I take it, then, I’ll be drinking alone?” she smirked, finally finding mirth, even if it was wry.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I ordered something?” he queried, but before she could answer he’d waved for a waitress who came over with a smile. “May I get a glass of…”

Goto looked to Miho’s glass, and she filled in the blanks.

“House shiraz,” she declared.

“Of course,” the waitress smiled, scribbling a couple of words down, before departing.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Miho told him.

“If we only ever did the things we needed to do, life wouldn’t be all that interesting,” he philosophised.

He seemed completely comfortable.

It was not uncommon for clients to act different following a test drive, but Goto showed no signs of awkwardness; in fact, he was, Miho thought, unusually cool considering what she knew of his rather bashful nature.

This did not escape her notice, and she eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds, before she retrieved the folder from her bag and handed it to him.

“Here’s my final profile,” she explained, and he flicked it over. “Please read it carefully to ensure you’re happy with my evaluation, and the wording; semantics can sway, so it’s important to be particular.”

The document was not a short one, and while Goto read in silence, Miho sat doing her best to show no interest in his reaction to any of what she’d written. Though he did seem a little different today than their last meeting, and in all those before that, she could tell when he reached where she’d detailed his romantic style and sexual performance – colour dappled his cheeks faintly, and Miho trapped a sigh in her chest until it dissipated.

Still, she remembered writing that section intensely, and the urge to cross her legs made her weight shift.

When the waitress arrived and put down Goto’s glass, he had still yet to look up from the paper; but he hadn’t turned the page in some time either.

“Problem?” Miho enquired, leaning forward a little.

Goto cleared his throat.

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t both confronting and embarrassing to read about myself like this,” he admitted, glancing at her but not making eye contact this time. “Flattering too,” he added. “You have quite a vivid way with words.”

“It’s crucial clients are able to get a clear idea of all aspects of their potential partner,” she expounded, falling back into practiced professionalism. “It’s how we’ve been able to enjoy the success rate we have.”

“And this is all your thoughts on me?” he prompted, closing the folder over.

“Actually I was so inspired, and sure you’d agree with my assessment, that,” she began, leaning down grab a thicker folio from her bag, “I’ve already selected three clients who are compatible.”

He looked at it, the black folio hovering across the table between them.

“That eager to get rid of me?” he questioned, eyes wandering up her arm, across her shoulder, but he stopped short of reaching her face.

His brows twitched, and he seemed transfixed by her throat. Neither of them had mentioned meeting in the supermarket day before last, and sure as hell had not uttered Subaru’s name – but Goto’s stare lingering there reminded them both.

Finally, he managed to refocus his gaze back into her face.

Then there was his tone. It lacked all humour, it lacked everything; and an emotionless mural painted over what Miho had seen happen several times before in this very situation.

Jazz’s voice rang in her ears – how sometimes clients, having enjoyed their time with them after long spells of loneliness or romantic disconnect, thought they felt more than they truly did.

“At MJS we pride ourselves on being both thorough, and efficient,” she responded – the line from their glossy brochure.

“Ahh, yes,” he nodded, still looking right over the folio Miho refused to lower. “You satisfy your clients, 100% guaranteed.”

“Mr. Goto,” Miho levelled, “if you are in any way dissatisfied with my service up until this point, then please say so. Only then can I do my utmost to correct the problem, and meet your expectations. Before that, however, all I ask, is that you at least glance these profiles.”

At this he frowned, his gaze diverted, and she saw him inhale a breath of strengthening resolve before he asked his next question.

“Which one is yours?”

“Excuse me?” she blinked once, the weight of the folder she held now causing her extended arm to tremble.

“Profile,” he clarified, and though she could see he wanted to avert his eyes, he did not. “Which one is yours?”

The sigh from earlier was suddenly resurrected, and had escaped from between Miho’s lips before she could clamp down. She couldn’t reward the courage it had taken him to ask that question, to convey to her in not so many words he wanted her among those prospective brides.

“Look,” she exhaled, finally placing the folio to the side and returning her hand to the base of her glass. “Sometimes during this process, that does involve the exposure of deeply personal…”

“Is that the MJS handbook speaking?” he interrupted, and Miho’s response was quick.

“Yes,” she said sharply, and a little louder than she had intended, “but also me, from experience. And every single client who thought they’d fallen in love with his or her representative, is now in a very happy relationship of our design.”

“You’re that good a profiler, you know exactly how I feel then?” he pressed, body completely still.

“You were bonded with someone with whom you had an absolute trust,” she articulated clearly. “Shared interests and lifestyle and occupation, by all accounts what should have been perfect, but it was taken from you. By your own admission, you blamed yourself and became convinced you were therefore not worthy of being loved again. You isolated yourself, and then here I am, sifting through all the dirty and unpleasant secrets you knew you’d need to face if you ever wanted to be happy again, and of course I accepted them.

“It’s my job to know you well enough to accurately find you a match so heartbreak, external factors aside, doesn’t visit you again – but asking me that, suggesting that…”

Shaking her head, Miho took a sip of her wine, but it was tasteless now.

“… It may seem harsh to say it so bluntly, but any affection I showed, was necessary to coax out how best you respond to intimacy; like our one-day marriage, it wasn’t real, merely a facilitator.”

Ice formed in her alcohol.

In her head the words were clear and definitive, to her ears, sure, stalwart.

“Your hands are shaking,” he pointed out.

“No they’re…” she began, but again he cut her off.

“You may be some manner of relationship profiler, Miss Fujiwara,” he said evenly, firmly, “but I’m a detective, and a highly trained one at that. I know lies when I hear them. I know lies when I see them. And I know dirty and unpleasant secrets that haven’t yet been faced, when I see them. For a woman who said she would own every word she speaks, I think you’ve strayed a little.”

A sardonic chortle sounded, and Miho shook her head again.

“We’re going to start parroting one another again?”

“I’ll look at your profiles,” he declared, “if you tell me why you’re so desperate to convince me I’m not truly attracted to you.”

Forget crossing her legs, Miho really wanted to get up and run, but that was not how one did business, and above all else, she was stubborn.

“This… isn’t about me,” she managed, but her voice was far thinner than she’d have liked.

“Correct,” he agreed. “It’s about a customer, and unless I’m mistaken, they are always right.”

There was a corner, and though Goto not once raised his voice, not once moved a muscle toward her, Miho felt herself backed more and more into it – not a feeling she enjoyed one bit.

“What I hear,” he continued, gesturing now with his hand as he spoke, “is a lot about me. Wouldn’t it just be simpler to say, I’m sorry Mr. Goto, but I’m not interested in you? Why not just say that, if it’s true?”

How the hell was she supposed to answer that?

“I…”

… am really glad neither Jazz or Selina are here to see this?

“You will look at the profiles?” she said finally, changing direction.

What does it even matter if he knows?

“Yes,” he agreed, watching her indeed like a cop just waiting for a suspect to crack.

“I was married to a police officer who spent much of his career undercover,” she revealed in more of a rush than she’d meant. “He was betrayed by his comrades and murdered, leaving behind a wife who couldn’t identify his body, and a family who didn’t care for justice, just wanted to forget.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he pointed out, a little more gently.

“Of course it does,” she chuckled, but it was an empty sound. “You told me yourself you’d often taken reckless chances in your work; should I encourage you to believe your feelings for me are real? Should I set myself up to…”

Miho bit her tongue – she’d said enough.

“That, answers your question, I believe.”

Nodding slowly, Goto took up the black folder and opened it, and Miho inhaled very, very slowly, counting in her mind to find some semblance of calm.

Then Goto closed the folder, and pushed it over to her.

Swapping upset for exasperation, she scowled from it to him.

“You said…”

“I said I would look at them, and I have,” he responded, “but what I want isn’t there.”

“I, will… take this under advisement and provide you with more suitable ma…”

“Actually, I think I have decided this marriage set up thing isn’t for me,” he announced. “Of course you’ll be paid everything you’re owed, but this process has helped me see love can’t be subcontracted.”

While Miho just stared at him with her mouth slightly open – a dumb expression no doubt – Goto glanced at his watch.

“We should get going,” he prompted. “The restaurant is only down the corridor, but we’re already five minutes late.”

Pursing her lips, and fighting down the heat of frustration that he wouldn’t just let it go for both their sake, Miho stuffed both folders back into her handbag and slid out of the booth.

“We’re not having dinner together, Mr. Goto,” she told him stiffly. “I have other work besides…”

“Another client?” he asked, standing also, though never getting in her way, never blocking.

He could see she was fixing to bolt, see how she struggled to keep it beneath the thin veil of her job, and knew his question was a mean one; so very not like him to be spiteful, to find himself submitting to his own frustration.

“You really shouldn’t ask questions to which you already know the answer,” she told him thinly. “Since we’re in the game of quoting past me, I’m sure you’ll recall I said I wouldn’t lie about what my work entails, you know perfectly well, and in fact you agreed no man in his right mind would dedicate himself to a woman who does what I do.”

Before he could respond, she held up her hand.

“And don’t say you, because we both know how much seeing me with Mr. Ichiyanagi pissed you off.”

By this time, a number of other patrons’ curiosity had been piqued – the standing pair seemed unhappy with one another, shrouded in thick tension: she like she might like to slap him, he like he would let her do it and go back for seconds.

“It did,” he admitted quietly, reaching for her collar that only partially hid the little red welt.

The sound of Miho snatching Goto’s wrist before he could reach his target was quiet, but their audience was attentive. They saw it came as no surprise to him, but to her…

Even after several meetings of deep discussion about the most intimate parts of a client, even after test driving, Miho had managed thus far to see them as words on a page, one part of a product requiring her to find the other in order to be successful in her work. This disassociation allowed her to enjoy the time she spent with them, but to cleanly let go at the end of the day – no baggage, no emotional attachment, because her job was to make them happy with someone else.

She’d been pushing so hard to see him as ‘client’ and not ‘man’, that the warmth of his skin actually surprised her, but before she could recoil, he deftly slid his hand through her hold and laced their fingers together.

A woman across the room audibly gasped.

Despite his audacity, Goto blushed; this was so far outside his comfort zone he barely knew himself; but at the same time, he knew he’d regret letting her just walk away before he was absolutely certain what he saw in her eyes was just his own wishful thinking.

“You’re going to make someone very happy one day,” she told him, a whisper so slight Goto had to strain to hear it.

“Give me a…” he began, but Miho was already pulling her fingers free and making good her escape.

She shouldered her bag and he watched her weave through the tables and exit before another female voice actually startled him, the woman who had gasped, a foreigner by appearance.

“Shouldn’t you go after her?” she half questioned, half suggested.

With a decisive nod, Goto left the bar, calling a room number out to the bartender as he left in order to cover his untouched drink.

“Miho!” he barked, seeing her enter the elevator at the end of the hall.

She turned to the sound of her name, scowled and shook her head, and even as Goto jogged toward her she pressed furiously against the ‘close doors’ button.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Goto, can you just let it the hell alone?” she growled, but closed her eyes, closed them, closed them tightly so she didn’t need to see his face that split second before the doors came summarily between them.

Despite appearances, Miho was relatively rational. She had come to a foreign country alone and now was part owner in a successful, lucrative business. Educated and worldly, financially secure and not at all bad on the eyes, she was ‘a catch’ – though we all know her attitude could use a little adjustment. The point is, it wasn’t as if she thought herself unworthy of a man like Goto.

Fear, is perhaps the most difficult thing to rationalise.

And so if Goto, being all other things the same, was not a police officer, this narrator can safely say you’d be thigh deep in smut again by now… or more likely still thigh deep in smut.

Miho knew he was being the honest one, watched him hedge his way out onto an ever narrowing limb in an attempt to get her to do the same; and she shook it furiously trying to dislodge him – not because she didn’t feel the same, but because the acuteness of burying a casket of ‘remains’, nothing even remotely resembling her husband, made her want to curl up into a ball and sob like a frightened child.

“It’s easier to be a bitch,” she shuddered out, trying to catch elusive breath and even more elusive calm.

No one would argue she wasn’t good at it.

It provided armour, and though she hadn’t truly ever had to use it against a client before, it had saved her many times when she’d felt her strength wane; but all she could see when she looked at her reflection in the elevator’s ear glass wall, was Goto’s face, and the expression he wore after her sucker-punch.

Ding.

The doors rattled open behind her, and the face she saw in the glass changed.

His hair was dishevelled, his posture slumped, his suit jacket askew, but he looked up from where he’d skidded before the doors to catch his breath, to see her turn: bewildered.

“Did you just… run, thirteen flights of stairs?” she murmured in shock, several hotel patrons and a couple of staff wondering something similar.

“You’re so… stubborn,” he panted, swallowing as he straightened and wiping the back of his hand over his forehead.

“Says Mr. Won’t Take No For An Answer!” she exclaimed, vexation emerging out the other side of shock.

“You haven’t said no,” he pointed out.

The doors began to close, but Goto pushed them back again, filled the space between them with his determination for one, last, attempt.

“Tell me plain, say no,” he told her, dark eyes serious and impossibly frank, “and you get your cheque in the mail and that’s the last of it.”

Just one syllable.

Almost as if searching for help, Miho peered beyond him at the various and sundry trying to look like they weren’t looking at the curious and dramatic scene. Her lips moved, they opened but seemed to lose their sense of language.

Goto stepped into the elevator and turned to the foyer.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he apologised, bowed, then allowed the doors to finally shut.

Miho turn back to the rear of the elevator and glared at the ground floor garden through the glass.

“Drama isn’t in your profile,” she said, her voice small – far too small for the likes of her.

“It’s certainly not my preference,” he responded, hitting the button for the top floor, perhaps to buy them some time, “but when necessity calls.”

“Ha, well,” she chortled thickly, “I’d make some revision, but you said you’re done.”

“I can’t and won’t force anything on you,” he scowled over her shoulder, there mere thought of that terrible thing.

He remained at what little distance the confined space allowed, despite his pursuit not wanting her to feel boxed in.

“But,” he continued, combing fingers through his messy hair, “I also don’t want you to refuse yourself the possibility of… love… out of fear I might be hurt, that I might leave you.”

“So you’re on a crusade to save me from myself, huh?” she snorted self-deprecatingly.

“You’re not the only idealist here,” he stated. “I don’t like to let go of the things that are important to me.”

“I’m not an ideal… anything,” she choked out, shaking her head, perhaps to hide the red creeping into her eyes.

Finally, Goto stepped up to her, and when she didn’t move he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.

“Fine,” she inhaled sharply, dropping her chin. “You’re in my head, you’re under my god damned skin, hell I even…”

Before she could say something in breach of contract, she chewed off the end of her sentence and started fresh, digging out the strength she knew she had to turn and face him.

“But none of that changes why I have to finish this job and forget you.”

Ding.

The doors opened at the top most level, revealing the entrance to the dimly lit rooftop bar. Once more, Goto slipped his fingers in between Miho’s, and with gentle encouragement she followed him out.

He waved away the waitress that drew close when they approached a table, pulling out one chair for Miho before settling himself, their woven grip remaining throughout.

“When Natsuki was killed,” he said, his voice low causing the small candle between them to flicker, “the world I knew, cared for, ended.”

Miho didn’t want to hear this – it just made fighting the burn of ugly tears that much more difficult; but it wasn’t like she could tell him to shut up right there when he was sharing arguably his most painful memory.

Well, she could, but even for Miho it seemed there was a limit to how horrid she could be.

“I’ve already told you how I took stupid risks, not caring if I lived or died because, what was life without her? The one person I could trust without any doubt.”

He didn’t move to wipe the tears away as Miho finally blinked them free, just squeezed her hand and continued.

“I took my frustrations out on the criminal world, and it didn’t matter if I was hurt because, there was no pain more acute, than losing her,” he elaborated. “And I had even convinced myself it would have been better if I’d never met her, or been partnered with her at all. It took a long time, but I finally realised that was a terrible thing to think about someone who’d meant so much, and who had had such a positive impact on my life.”

That was quite the monologue, and Miho just stared at their hands entwined on the tabletop, trying not to sob.

“I know your pain,” he told her more softly, thumb grazing over the back of her hand, “and I would never wish that on you again, but I would gladly accept all that hurt myself… for just one day with you.”

“I hate you,” she muttered under her breath, words tangled in her throat. “You make it sound so god damned simple, but you can’t… promise you won’t…”

“No, I can’t,” he agreed, weathering her defensive abuse. “Some things are beyond my control. But give me a chance to make you some promises I can keep.”

“And if I do?” she murmured, and when she looked up, Goto was struck by the open vulnerability in her swimming eyes.

But he smiled a warming, penetrating smile.

“I’ll make you happy, for as long as I’m able to,” he replied, “and you’ll make me happy by allowing me to.”

“You know what I do,” she pointed out thickly, her fingers twitching in his.

“And I love that your job is about making people happy,” he nodded, then tilted his head a little to one side, hair sliding across his forehead. “Though… when I saw you with Ichiyanagi, knowing why you were with him…”

He paused, his scowl drawing his eyebrows right down over his eyes.

“I could barely stop myself from pulling you away.”

Miho’s lips pursed and her eyes drifted back down to their hands.

“Work is work… but… I wanted you to,” she admitted, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling a slow, calming sigh. “So, you’d ask I give up my career, my business?”

“Mm, no,” he answered, finally leaning across the table to gently wipe the watery drip of tears and mascara from the point of her chin. “Like I said, I like that your work is about helping others find love; but the whole sexual test drive part…”

He winced – was he asking too much already? It was clear in his expression he wasn’t sure, but at the same time, he had to think that client, ex-client of man she met in the street, ultimately to be with him completely she would surely have to give up sleeping with other men, even if it was part of her job.

“But,” he went on, obviously steeling himself, “until you’re sure, about me – us – I know I don’t have a right to ask you to give up anything, other than some time for us.”

“Really?” she sniffed a little incredulously, taking up a napkin from the table and dabbing under her eyes. “Hm, that’s generous and all Mr. Goto…”

“Seiji,” he corrected with a somewhat diffident smile.

“Seiji,” she managed, though even she felt a little self-conscious saying it now, even though she had moaned it during his date scenario. “But if I was going to try my luck with a man, seriously, there’s no way I could even think about intimacy on any level, with another.”

“Um, so?” he frowned, not quite sure what that meant exactly, whether it was a she would stop because she was going to try her luck with him or if she was just posing a hypothetical.

“I don’t know, what Jazz is doing and Selina…” she began, lolling her head back to look up at the clouded Tokyo sky, “but I guess, if I can get her to finally realise she and Aikwara need to get it together then we’ll have to employ some new staff for test driving.”

She had stopped crying, and seemed to be in serious thought.

“I should get onto Kyobashi about that,” she mused, chewing her lower lip.

“Kyobashi?” Goto questioned, trying to draw her back to the table.

“Oh jeez, forget I said that name, that’s, that is not supposed to be common knowledge,” she rushed, blinking back to the moment at hand.

Finally Got felt like he could relax a little – she wasn’t crying, she wasn’t fighting or defensive, and he thought she was already thinking of a strategy that meant she wouldn’t have to do client test driving anymore?

“So, you want to try for dinner?” he offered tentatively, giving her hand another squeeze to ground her further. “Or maybe just… room service?”

“Room service?” she repeated slowly, narrowing her eyes at him, and instantly he was rubbing the back of his neck in that embarrassed gesture becoming more and more familiar to her.

“I wasn’t going to give up,” he told her after a few seconds of squirming. “So, I banked on success, but… we don’t have to of course, we have a reservation at the restaurant and you’ve no obligation at all to…”

“Courage,” she sighed, really looking at him properly, her shoulders slumped as if really exhausted. “I’d add a note to your profile about how it’s one of among many of your admirable qualities, but I guess that’s a bit redundant.”

“It is,” he agreed with a smile, and stood from his seat. “So… which is it?”

“Room service,” she declared, also getting to her feet, but she remained where she was, with their hands still joined but a little stretched. “But, before that could you show me, that courage, just one more time… so I can, borrow, some of it.”

Kindly he smiled at her and in the faint candle lit night he stepped against her and cupped one side of her face.

“I will show you as many time as you need me to,” he whispered, before lightly touching his lips to hers, no matter who or how many were watching.

And when they parted, he was heartened by the soft, relaxed expression on Miho’s face, and the gentle pressure of her free hand against his chest.

“Come on,” he urged with a slight tug on her hand. “No one else needs to see that face.”

“Possessive?” she smirked, bumping into his side.

“Maybe, just a little bit,” he admitted, touching her collar to the side, and this time she didn’t stop him. “It’s hard not to be, when I know he’s marked you like that.”

“Mhmm,” she murmured, cringing a little when she thought her throat was only the tip of the iceberg. “Yeah well, I’m not with him now, am I?” she tried to reason.

“No, you’re not,” Goto agreed, and urged her back in the direction of the elevator.

SUGGESTED LISTENING for this scene - CLICK HERE Goto and Miho’s theme song - ‘Flames’ by VAST

Miho remained quietly at his side as they rode down to the seventh floor, following along to his suite without protest, but deep in thought.

“I feel like we’ve done this kind of backwards,” Goto chuckled nervously, looking back at her as he swiped the hotel card to open the door.

“You mean, we got married first?” she sought in clarification, her voice a little sheepish.

“Perhaps I need to carry you backwards over the threshold to undo it,” he suggested. “Though, if I’m honest, I don’t really want to.”

“I always thought I’d only get married once,” Miho admitted with a reserved shrug of her shoulders, following him into the suite. “Life, doesn’t always give us what we expect.”

“Nope,” he agreed, tugging her hand sharply and drawing her into his arms, “but it sometimes gives us second chances.”

Miho’s brows twitched, even if she hadn’t meant them to.

“And every single time you get that frightened look in your eye,” he said, brushing her hair back and holding her face, “I’ll kiss you, so you remember it’s worth being brave.”

“Please kiss me,” she begged in a whisper, and there was nothing in Goto’s expression that suggested he had any intention of non-compliance.

The slide of his hands into her clothing was slow and unhurried, like the gentle trace of his tongue between her lips and breath that sighed her name. Piece by piece their attire was cast aside, until Goto pushed Miho back to arm’s length and looked her up and down.

“Would you hate me, if I was to replace all these marks with my own?” he asked with a scowl, glossing his fingertips over each mark Subaru had left on Miho’s body.

“No,” she answered simply, turning her head to expose the first he’d spied on her throat.

With painstaking dedication, leaving no part of her unsearched, Goto applied adequate pressure with his mouth to renew the vitality of each palling welt, signing purposeful ownership over her flesh in a way Subaru could not have. And when he’d laid her down and suckled over the last against her right breast, he returned to her lips as if for reward.

“Feel better now?” she smiled dreamily, looking up at him, carding her fingers through his hair with one hand, stroking him lazily from base to tip with the other, until he had readied the condom to protect them both.

“It’s going to take a little more than that,” he told her honestly, walking fingers down her abdomen, and Miho closed her eyes.

This time she didn’t need to imagine it was him touching her, parting the slick warmth between her legs and working her clit so desperate for his ministrations alone. And she remembered every ridge, each standing vein that caused Goto’s shaft to pulse with the racing of his heart.

She believed it raced for her – but while hers pounded against the confines of her chest as she rolled, straddled him and looked down into his face her fears bubbled… bubbled… bubbled.

“No,” he hissed, rocking up, crushing is already ridged cock between them and bringing their lips together once more. “Right now it’s just you and me and how I feel about you.”

“You hardly know anything about me at all,” she frowned, arms wrapped around his neck loosely. “I could be an axe murderer for all you know; shit have one conversation with Jazz and she’ll tel…”

He cut her off with the surprisingly fierce thrust of his tongue into her mouth, and the clamp of his arms, hands that slid down her back and lifted her ass up from his lap, just enough to position the standing call of his length against the dripping welcome of her core.

On her knees, she hovered with him just resting there, looking into his eyes with growing determination – she didn’t want him to have to keep telling her to stop being pathetic, even though he’d never say it like that.

So she pushed him back until he flopped down on the pillow.

“I, on the other hand, know more about you than anyone else in the whole world,” she told him, her eyes rolling upward as she slid herself slowly down onto him. “Including how, perfectly you stretch me.”

When she focused again, it was to find Goto gritting his teeth a little, lying still, but the tensing in his thighs told her he badly wanted to move.

“If anyone else knew that,” he groaned as she leaned just a fraction and dug onto him even more firmly by digging down with her hips, “I’d be… upset.”

“You’re normally so composed… Lieutenant,” she grinned, rolling forward, undulating her body and squeezing tightly each time she drove against him, “I can’t quite imagine you, upset.”

“You nearly didn’t have to,” he hissed, digging his fingers into her thighs, aching to make her move more swiftly. “If you’d turned me away, I… I don’t know…”

Miho smiled, falling forward against his chest to speak against his hungry lips.

“You don’t need to know, Seiji,” she exhaled, nibbling, pecking, teasing until his grip tightened and he bought his body up to meet hers.

Amid gasping breaths, the slap of bodies meeting in the middle, and the heightening frequency of deep throated moans and passionate utterances comprehendible only by them, Miho and Goto found equal ground.

In the physically intense union of flesh and sweat, and the surrender of fear and baggage, both let go what tomorrow might bring – even if only for that night.

“You cum first tonight,” she declared, leaning back and supporting her body with her arms, bucking vigorously, bringing them as close as unreserved penetration could – and it had the desired result.

“Gah… Miho that’s…” he growled, strong hands clasping her knees urgently, until he forced the fingers of one hand to relax and release her, then applied them where they’d bring her the most pleasure.

“Think I’m… going… to let you get the… best of… me twice in one night?” she snarled, slapping one hand over his where he’d begun rubbing it against her clit.

“Hey!” he barked as she tried to pull his hand away.

The fight became so spirited in fact, Goto sat up again, and together they toppled right off the bed onto the floor – where he pinned her down.

“Best you know I’m trouble now,” she laughed, fighting the good fight, actually struggling with all her skill, but Goto’s strength and ability at subduing felons won out until both Miho’s hands were pinned either side of her head.

“Trouble I can handle,” he breathed against her throat, wetting it with his saliva, speaking cool against her flaming skin.

“You sure?” she scowled, snapping her teeth, then sinking them into his shoulder when she couldn’t capture his lips.

This did not deter his zealous efforts to thwart her plan, the depth of his plunge far and beyond their mere bodies. Legs clinching and trembling, fingernails digging and scraping, toes curling, and short, desirous breaths, intermingled with the profound longing for a peace both had told themselves was beyond their reach for too long.

It crashed together in a furious crescendo, the twist and grasp and ardent, uninhibited exploration of bodies holding nothing back, until both laid draped, content and spent in an embrace finally made tranquil by two hearts slowly resuming their normal rhythm – as one.

“You hoped that I’d remember,” he whispered against her brow, her head resting on his shoulder, “then told me to forget – that was never going to happen.”

“I’m sorry I said that,” she murmured, one finger outlining his nipple lightly. “It was selfish, and unfair.”

“I know why you did,” he smiled, kissing her lightly, enjoying the ache in his legs and the warm dampness of their interwoven limbs. “It actually gave me hope, that you felt more for me than just as a client.”

“Need to work on my poker face I guess,” she chuckled wryly, kissing his chest to the point where he let out a little noise of surprise at the sting.

“Did you?” he blinked, tilting his head to look down.

“Think you’re the only one who gets to leave marks?” she smirked, thumbing across his lips but refusing to kiss them.

“I suppose you haven’t looked at my back and shoulders?” he snorted, shrugging a little for emphasis. “I’m not going to be able to take my shirt off at work for weeks.”

“I don’t have issue with that,” Miho laughed, kissing against the various red impressions of her teeth across his broad shoulders. “This body is… perfect,” she added with a sigh, and Goto looked away, actually embarrassed. “Really?” she chuckled, wrapping her arm over him and squeezing him tightly. “You’re getting all embarrassed about how insanely sexy you are after what we’ve gotten up to?”

“For all you have difficulty saying, what comes to you easiest is what affects me most,” he grumbled, but it was an affectionate sound that lingered lovingly in Miho’s ears.

“And this is why women secretly rule the world,” she grinned, scratching her teeth down his right pectoral.

“Hungry?” he questioned.

“Well, this is the second time you’ve made me miss dinner,” she pointed out cheekily, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head.

Goto’s hand flat against her spine, ghosting slowly down its length, caused her to shiver and look back at him.

“I’m hungry too,” he told her frankly, index finger gliding slightly into her rear crevice before falling away, and Miho’s eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Nothing, I ahh, just didn’t really peg you for an ass man,” she snickered, purposefully shimmying back and sitting right on his hand, much to Goto’s surprise.

“Peg… ass…” he repeated, turning this over in his mind, and as he did, he looked a little more panicked. “Wait, you don’t think I was suggesting that I, that we…”

“So that’s a no?” she questioned airily, wriggling against his trapped hand.

“It’s not a… no,” he frowned in consternation, a little confused perhaps and a whole lot unsure. “It’s just not something I’ve really, ever thought about or – would ask a woman to… you know.”

“God you’re precious,” she gushed, rolling on top of him just long enough to kiss him firmly, before continuing on her way off the bed.

“I’m going to end up with a complex,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead, but Miho only laughed and strode over to snatch up the room service menu.

“Okay, my ass aside, what else are you in the mood for?” she teased, flopping back down on the end of the bed.

 They ate, drank, and watched half of Madagascar before a tickle war devolved into another round of passionate exchanges that stretched well on into the morning.

Goto couldn’t remember the last time he woke up with a woman in his arms, let alone one like Miho.

Beautiful.

Successful.

Opinionated.

Fearless, and yet… fractured.

Forthright and formidable, but… fragile.

“I want to protect you,” he whispered into her hair, kissing against her temple lightly.

“Mmm,” Miho murmured sleepily, turning her face against Goto’s skin. “I will bite you again.”

“Please do,” he challenged, lips moving to her ear.

“Calling my bluff?” she grumbled, words muffled against his chest, dragging her leg up over him until her knee was bent against his stomach.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he chortled, tracing up her shin, then along her thigh. “Breakfast?”

“I don’t swallow, no matter how hot you are,” she snorted, giving his cheek a solid pinch.

“Vulgar,” he quipped, turning his face into her hand snatching a couple of her fingers between his lips.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she smirked, allowing him to suckle for a few seconds before she drew her fingertips down his stubbled chin.

“I’ll learn,” he smiled, genuine and determined. “No regrets?”

“No,” she smiled back, her expression serene, her heart calm. “None.”

“Okay, then go have a shower and I’ll order us some coffee,” he prompted, throwing the blanket off their naked bodies.

“Ughh, you know, the last time you told me to take a shower, I got out and you were nowhere to be seen?” she pointed out with a pout as he lifted her up, and actually set her on her feet.

“But you remember what happened after that right?” he pointed out, tucking wild wisps of her hair back over her ears. “And, you trust me?”

Miho turned her head against his palm – warm and wide, skin firm and manly, not too rough, not too soft.

“I will start calling you Aladdin,” she warned, kissing his hand before backing away.

“I could see you as a princess,” he mused, then suddenly looked a little abashed, perhaps realising he stood there totally naked before Miho’s open and obvious appraisal.

“Cuuute,” she grinned impishly, then ducked into the bathroom.

 Miho didn’t loiter in the shower very long, and was actually a little disappointed Goto didn’t join her. Still, it gave her some space to process what she’d done and mull over her feelings.

The death of her husband had ruined her - this was a truth she had spoken to herself over and over like a mantra meant to save her life – but with Goto on her mind somehow those words didn’t have as much power.

If she was so defeated, then how did she have the close friends she did? How had she built a successful business with them? How had she not shoved out of that elevator, and stomped the hell away with that mantra ringing infallibly in her ears?

“Back to being spoiled instead of ruined?” she asked her reflection, smiling though her body was dotted with little marks… some not so little.

To her surprise, that question’s first answer was not to run the fuck away and hide, even though she’d had her fears, fears that could not be erased completely in one night, but had been at the very least weakened.

“Of all the men you’ve come to know,” she exhaled. “A lot of men, you never felt like this about any of them since...”

There was no way for her to pinpoint when she’d crossed the line between seeing him as a client and fighting against seeing him as more. All she had was where she stood now, with a pleasant fatigue still lingering in her muscles, pleasant memories of the night just passed, and a tentative hope those were not the last they’d make together.

Eventually, fighting a sense of déjà vu, Miho exited the bathroom.

There were no candles this time, but a spread of delicious breakfast goodies on the table.

What was familiar, was the lack of Goto.

“Seriously, if he went to shower somewhere else this time, I’m going to be really pissed,” she muttered, drawn by the small of strong coffee to the table, where her gaze perused what was on offer.

Fruit, muffins, cereal, miso, salad, various warm dishes hidden beneath silver lids, and a curious white box with a blue ribbon tied around it, accompanied by a little card instructing her to open it.

Suspicious, Miho looked around, expecting Goto to jump out and scare her – not that she thought he was really the prankster type. Apprehension still twisted in her stomach; she wasn’t a huge fan of surprises, but she picked up the box and tucked away the bow, inhaling and holding her breath as she lifted the lid.

Within was a tiny piece of folded paper – certainly not what she had been expecting – not that she had been expecting anything!

“What are you up to?” she whispered, smoothing out the paper to find a short note written inside. “I hope you’re at least a little bit disappointed,” she read aloud, “because that will make this a whole lot easier on me. Huh,” she frowned, staring down at it like there was more to glean from just those words alone. “The hell is that supposed to me…”

“Miho,” Goto said to her left, and Miho’s head snapped in that direction.

He was perfectly groomed.

Expression unflinchingly attentive.

Dressed in a tuxedo and positioned beside her chair on bended knee.

“No… way,” Miho exhaled, staring.

“Despite coming to MJS without expectation,” he told her, serious beyond measure, “I did so with every intention of finding that woman with whom I could share the rest of my life.”

“You’re really-” she began again, eyes wide, but got no further when Goto placed a finger against her lips.

“I had my doubts about the inorganic nature of the process, but every time we met I realised more clearly, something very natural was developing despite us. And when you left the other night, when I saw you with… at the grocery store, it hurt so much, I had to face the fact I’d fallen in love with the one person you wouldn’t offer in your meticulous profiles.”

The little diversionary note fluttered forgotten from between Miho’s fingers to the carpet, settling in the small space between them.

“And I’m amazed that you’re here with me now,” he pressed on, gaze undaunted despite the weight of each word, “grateful, blessed… and hopeful.”

The cry of tiny, old hinges called Miho’s attention to the scuffed wooden ring box that was pinched between Goto’s thumb and forefinger, and the very obvious symbol nestled in the black cushioning within.

Miho’s next breath entered her lungs as a gasp, a half-sob, and was imprisoned there as the world ground to a vivid halt. There was no sharper focus than that moment, nothing else around them but the hum of sincere emotions limited only by the frustrating constraint of verbal language.

“Please,” he entreated, and yet it didn’t sound like he was begging, just expressing not desire, but need, “let me be a support to your triumphs,” he went on a little breathlessly, but his offering did not waver in the slightest. “Please, let me stand beside you and face your challenges, as our challenges. And when this indomitable woman - who has dominated my affections so completely - finds her strength failing, please let me be the one to hold her safe until she finds herself again.”

There was no thought.

Amazement wasn’t thought.

Bewildering, unrestrained, unbalanced, shuddering, rocking, wonder wasn’t thought.

“There isn’t a single woman,” she managed shakily, hands twitching unconsciously where they rested across her knees, “in the world,” she continued, “straight, gay, undetermined, who could say no to that.”

“But I only need one, to say yes,” he pointed out solemnly, but his lips finally upturned, just slightly in an optimistic expression that shattered whatever reserve of resistance Miho had reflexively been clinging to.

“Let me be your husband,” he whispered, gently taking up her left hand and kissing the place where he’d already placed a ring once.

Not be my wife – let me be your husband.

“Yes,” Miho uttered, the last of the air she’d been holding in her lungs, but the purest response possible.

With audible relief, Goto plucked the ring from its moorings and put the box aside, before settling the antique polish of the ring just over her fingernail.

“You… you’re sure?” he asked again, and Miho slid off her chair to bring herself to his eye level.

“You really want me to change my mind?” she chortled thickly.

“I don’t think I could survive that,” he admitted sheepishly, pushing the ring onto her finger, before entangling their fingers.

It was a little big, would need to be resized, but that was hardly a consideration for that moment.

“When my grandmother died,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against her lightly. “My grandfather gave me her engagement ring, pretty uncommon for their era, and told me I wasn’t to part with it for anything less than the love he’d felt for her.”

“How long were they married?” Miho asked, tilting her head up, desperate to kiss him.

“Over seventy years,” he replied softly, sliding his hand into her robe to pull her against him. “A pretty impressive record.”

“We got this,” she smiled, claiming what was of him, hers, allowing him to claim what was of her, his.

And thankfully, reverently, together they once more indulged in what was theirs.

@hifftn @nitelotus @smutmylifeup @smile-smile-ichthys

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Client Report: Subaru Ichiyanagi

Miho was grateful to be busy, mostly because it was keeping her out of Jazz’s path. The woman needed time to get her shit sorted, and well, if she ultimately decided to hide her feelings like a coward, rather than take another chance at being happy, then it wasn’t something Miho could force upon her.

Only encourage to a point.

It wasn’t as if Miho didn’t understand why Jazz refused to edge close to that precipice again, after all, Miho too had lost love, and family, and it had caused her so much pain she up and left her home and moved countries.

And before you go and start mumbling about how Miho is a hypocrite given her encounter with Goto, it’s not even close to being similar. He had done all the nudging, all the investing, and she just allowed it for the sake of the date scenario.

Shut up.

Do as Miho says, not as she does.

In an expensive car, her next client picked Miho up outside of MJS headquarters. He leaned over and pushed open the door for her from the driver’s seat, the car engine still running, and grinned as he issued his instruction.

“Jump in,” he said cheerfully, and Miho complied.

“Good evening, Subaru,” she greeted once she was comfortably belted in.

In their preliminary sessions he had insisted she refer to him by his first name all the way through, which was of course fine. For the date scenario especially, it added a sense of familiarity, made it seem as though they had known each other much longer, and for many clients that made the ‘test drive’ easy to enter into.

Miho knew, however, that Subaru had no issue with attracting beautiful and successful women – his issue was choosing the one out of many. His father was also a consideration she had to factor in; Subaru’s wife had to be the kind of woman that would befit the son of a police superintendent.

There was no risk at all in this date scenario: pure analysis with a heaping helping of enjoyment. And there was nothing wrong with enjoying one’s work. Subaru was fit, handsome, highly educated, witty-if a little arrogant – the kind who liked to pinch, and bite, and spank, and whisper dirty things in your ear to affirm his masculinity; the kind who wouldn’t be satisfied until he could hear, and see, and feel the gratification he’d wrought upon his partner.

A little shiver tingled through Miho’s body. Yes, this was exactly what she needed.

“Cold?” he enquired, attentive enough to notice, and he hit a button that caused his window to close over completely.

“Nope, just looking forward to tonight,” she admitted openly, smiling at him.

“I sort of expected to see you with a clipboard and a checklist, or a tablet to take notes on or something,” he chuckled.

“You want me to pause mid act to scribble dot points about your performance?” she enquired with a smirk. “Oh goodness, imagine the interesting things Siri would record if I asked her to take dictation during.”

Subaru joined in her mirth.

“I don’t know,” he chortled. “Hearing Siri try to articulate the sounds you’re going t be making might make for an interesting memento.”

“Confident you can get me to sing, are you?” she sniffed, feigning sudden disinterest and looking out the window, following the flow of the city even when Subaru placed his hand against her thigh.

“Haven’t had any complaints so far,” he asserted, squeezing lightly.

Getting started early – nice.

“So, how do you think you’re going to cope with a monogamous relationship?” she asked, and though the question was serious, her tone of voice was actually a little patronising.

“If you’re as good as the reviews say you are,” he answered, tapping his fingers rhythmically, “you should be able to provide me with a match who’ll never want to make me stray.”

“Good point,” she acknowledged. “But, it will be a big change nevertheless. How’re you going to deal with all those women chasing after you?”

“What women?” he asked in reply. “Hey, if I love a girl, I’ll be so busy making her happy it’ll be like there are no other women around.”

Miho blinked.

“An incredibly romantic ideal,” Miho noted, biting her lip a little and rolling her eyes upward just a touch as she filed it away.

“Ahh, so that’s how you do it,” he declared with a satisfied nod.

“Do what?” she frowned lightly.

“Take notes,” he clarified. “I wonder what kinds of stories you have stored away in there.”

“Your job isn’t wo wonder about what, or who, came before you,” she smirked, “only to leave a lasting impression of your own.”

“It’ll last,” he assured he, leaving what exactly the ‘it’ was completely ambiguous.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she laughed. “So are you going to tell me where we’re going, or is the interior of this lovely car going to require detailing in the not so distant future?”

“Too awkward,” he replied. “Bonnet isn’t bad though.”

“Favourite look-out then? The beach? Lately I’ve grown to appreciate the outdoors a little more.”

Jeez, I wonder why Miho.

“Nope,” Subaru quipped. “Tonight I show you I’m perfect husband material.”

“Well that isn’t really necessary,” she pointed out, shifting in her seat a little when his hand slid up a little more, fingers pressing inward between her legs. “I’ll find your match no matter who or what you are.”

“Not the point,” he countered. “If you’re going to do something, or someone, do it right.”

“More points for a positive attitude,” she grinned, looking at him sideways. “So what does the perfect husband do on a Thursday night?”

“We need to make a quick stop off at the grocery store,” he announced. “There is something oddly special about shopping with a woman.”

“I’ll have to add that to your profile,” Miho smiled. “For a hotshot bodyguard with a prestigious pedigree, you’re surprisingly domestic.”

“It’s important to take pride in all aspects of life,” he affirmed. “It’s not good enough just to focus on one thing and half-ass the rest.”

“So I can expect all over attention then?” she enquired, and he smirked confidently.

“You may have to cancel any clients you have for the next week or two,” he declared, “because you’re not going to be able to concentrate on anything but thoughts of me after what I do to you.”

At this, Miho grabbed his wrist and truly sandwiched his hands between her thighs, pressing his fingers right up under her skirt and against her panties.

“You’re going to want to be pretty amazing to back up that claim,” she told him frankly. “Most of our clients aim to impress.”

“Damnit woman,” Subaru growled, glancing back and forth from the windshield to her, while his fingers wriggled against her folds, struggling to burrow. “If I wasn’t driving right now…”

“Awkward spaces remember?” she grinned cheekily, before gently forcing his hand away. “Hmm, now I’m actually hungry.”

“You and me both,” Subaru muttered under his breath, taking another left turn before parking the car.

Together they acquired a shopping cart, and Miho trailed behind Subaru as he collected various luxury food items, the kind most people enjoyed on a rare basis.

“This is couply, right?” Subaru half questioned, half stated, looking back over his shoulder at her.

“Yes dear,” Miho snickered, and he paused to allow her to catch up, scrutinising her with narrowed eyes.

“Was that sarcasm I heard just now?” he questioned, standing very close to her, so close in fact a little old lady unsteadily pushing her own trolley nearby, gave them a somewhat disapproving look.

“Me? Sarcastic? Oh no, I am the height of seriousness,” she grinned, not backing down from his challenging invasion of her personal space.

Suck it up granny.

“It’s like that is it?” he sniffed, placing his hand on her hip – she still did not recoil.

“It would seem so,” she volleyed quietly as he stepped against her. “Okay, this is couply.”

“So it’s within your purview to teach me what it is to be part of a couple?” he asked, leaning a little over her shoulder.

And granny with her cart stopped, and glared.

“I’m just trying to ascertain if you need teaching or not,” she responded, seeing grandma out of the corner of her eye, even as Subaru’s lips approached hers. “If she has a heart attack, you’re the one giving her mouth to mouth.”

Subaru paused for a split second, just long enough to let the granny know he’d seen her.

“It’ll be worth it,” he said, before bringing his lips to Miho’s firmly.

It was important that Miho felt every part of his kiss, encompassed it, allowed it to sink deeply. Behind closed eyelids she envisioned she and Subaru as if from some observer – the way he pulled her in at the waist; the way he cradled the back of her neck with his fingertips half obscured by her hair; the way she relaxed against him and allowed him to lead; the way she seemed to be smiling, even though her lips could not truly be seen.

Then there was a loud clatter that drew both Miho and Subaru from that haze toward where the granny had been standing.

But she was gone.

Several cans of peas rolled away from where they had been knocked off the shelf by a clumsy basket, and tumbled until they hit Subaru’s polished shoe. With her eyes Miho retraced their path until she found pinstripes, and looked up into the face of the last person she wanted to see in that moment.

Because the deus ex machina says so.

“Pyjamas?” Subaru scowled, not moving away from Miho. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Rosemary?” Goto responded, his voice clear by the time he uttered Subaru’s nickname – but he wasn’t looking at Subaru as he spoke. “Ishigami’s the only one who doesn’t need to eat.”

This, of course, did not escape Subaru’s notice, and he looked between them.

“Jealous?” he smirked after a few seconds.

“Of you?” Goto sniffed, finally looking to the other man, grey eyes dismissive. “Not likely.”

“Of her then,” Subaru snickered, but he noted Goto seemed distracted, not at all as engaged in their friendly-caustic banter as he usually was.

Again, he looked between Miho and Goto.

“No way,” he dropped when it came to him. “Seriously? He’s a client?”

“Shut up, Subaru,” Goto snapped, stooping to pick up the can closest to him, perhaps to hide the colour in his cheeks, or maybe just to give himself something else to focus on other than Subaru’s hand on Miho’s waist.

“Well this just got a whole lot more interesting,” Subaru grinned, his hand falling away as Miho crouched to pick up the can by his shoe.

The narrator had some dirty line about Subaru not being pleased about sloppy seconds, but it was too far outside of Subaru’s character for her to work in it effectively – you get the idea though.

“Here,” Miho said, her first word since Goto’s surprise appearance.

Tone even, lips smiling.

And nothing failed when their fingertips brushed during handover, no gasping, or dropping the can, or sudden flashes of guilt. What could or should there be? An incontrovertible desire to leave Subaru standing there with his trolley of expensive items, and go and eat peas with Goto?

You don’t even like peas.

You don’t even like…

“Thanks,” Goto nodded.

For what else could he do? Grab her possessively and hide her from Subaru? Demand she leave her job immediately because it pained him to see her with, not only another man, but that man? Try, this time, to be more explicit about how he felt given all the time they’d spent together, and not just during the date scenario?

Of course not.

“What the?” Subaru frowned, the absence of something more telling than a something itself being present. “I bet he didn’t live up to expectations, right?”

“I shouldn’t have to school either of you on the binding nature of confidentiality agreements,” Miho declared, her expression stern, all the playfulness of their flirting a moment ago completely gone. “I apologise Mr. Goto,” she continued, offering him a shallow bow, “but I’m working.”

“No, no don’t let me interrupt,” he rushed, dropping the peas into his basket though he didn’t even want them.

Nothing about his face said, actually, I really want to interrupt. He was apologetic, genuinely so, and Miho was professional, genuinely so.

And Subaru was totally and utterly perplexed by the robotic nature of their display.

“Shall we continue, Subaru?” Miho then smiled, nudging him lightly with her hip.

Only then did Goto flinch, just the slightest bit – but neither Miho or Subaru were looking at him.

“Later,” Subaru waved to Goto, as with one hand on trolley each, he and Miho rolled away.

Miho stared forward, trying to absorb the warmth of Subaru’s shoulder against hers, but somehow, the eyes on her back sucked it all away.

“That was way more awkward than sex in a car,” Subaru muttered when they were out of earshot.

“I didn’t realise you were that sensitive,” Miho mused, pleased by how nonchalant her voice sounded. “You seem almost threatened by him.”

“Me?” Subaru balked. “Not likely. There isn’t anything that pinstripe wearing dork can do, that I can’t do better, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

“Perhaps,” she nodded, continuing to walk along beside him, “but you’ll never know for sure.”

“Yeah yeah, confidentiality,” he sniffed.

“But that doesn’t stop me from asking about this obvious rivalry you have,” she went on, knowing she shouldn’t dig, but the words from her mouth before she could stop them.

“We used to work together,” Subaru answered with a shrug, casually placing certain items in the cart. “Before he moved up in the world.”

“Jealousy?” she queried.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve passed up promotions, and I’m a regular guest instructor at the Public Safety Academy,” he responded. “They ask me, if I’ll help them out.”

“I see,” Miho nodded. “And the pet names?”

Subaru coughed.

“They’re not pet names,” he refuted.

“Uh huh,” Miho teased, getting back into her groove. “Smells like a bromance to me.”

“Just for that I’m telling you nothing,” he sniffed, digging her I the ribs lightly with his elbow.

“Okay,” she accepted, “but by denying me information only hurts yourself.”

“A compelling argument,” he agreed, but certainly looked as if he wasn’t going to divulge much more.

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged. “But close male relationships can, and do, impact upon romantic relationships, especially bonds that have deep history and affection.”

This caused Subaru to splutter a little.

“Affection? For Goto?” he coughed.

“I see,” she murmured, openly studying him then nodding her conclusion. “You’re not nearly as self-assured about your masculinity as you’d like people to think.”

And now he frowned at her, but Miho grinned and patted his cheek.

“You’re allowed to love the guy,” she declared.

And now she frowned.

Subaru’s expression shifted and he peered at the odd curiosity that was her sudden change in countenance.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and in response Miho shook her head.

“Distracted by the hollow of my empty stomach,” she responded, flawlessly covering a truth he couldn’t know.

You’re allowed to love the guy.

She hadn’t exactly told Jazz that, but it’s sort of what she’d meant to convey – that just because they were in the business they were in, didn’t mean they couldn’t change their plans and create their own happily-ever-afters without ruining the business. Not that that was really what was getting in Jazz’s way at all.

“What’s stopping you?” Subaru asked, and Miho blinked at him in shock – he couldn’t have been in her head.

“Huh?”

“You’re just standing here with a look of… I don’t know, quandary, on your face,” he elaborated.

His vocabulary choice offered her an unintentional lifeline.

“Quandary? Really?” she chuckled.

“Hey, I’m a Harvard graduate you know,” he bristled, puffing out his chest in an exaggerated fashion. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she smiled, allowing her other thoughts to be buried by the immediacy of Subaru’s proximity. “Come on, I’m starving.”

Subaru’s home was what one might expect from a bachelor from a wealthy and successful background, except perhaps that it was absolutely spotless. There was not a single speck of dust, nothing seeming out of its place, not one piece of unwashed clothing dumped haphazardly in a corner.

In his space, her mind became focused, and she allowed him to take her coat, hang it, then lead her into the well-appointed kitchen.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked when she was settled on a cushioned bar stool at the counter.

“What kind of wine am I?” she asked, leaning her elbows on the countertop and placing her chin on her hands.

“Hmm,” he mused, putting the pink apron he’d acquired from its place, down on the sink, so he could approach and appraise Miho empty handed. “Well, you’re certainly bold, so I could easily pair you with a cab-sav,” he began, turning her slowly to face him and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Full bodied,” he went on, smoothing down and slowly across her collarbones, “persistent, and high potency.”

“Interesting assessment,” she offered in the way of feedback, staring up at him approvingly.

“But, you’re a bit smoother than that,” he continued, tracing fingers from her collarbones, across her chest until his thumbs lightly circled her nipples hidden behind red fabric, “so maybe a merlot?”

“So I’m definitely a red?” she questioned, plucking at the tip of his tie, flicking it with her fingertips while he stepped closer.

“Absolutely,” he nodded, snatching one of her wrists and pulling her to her feet. “Shiraz maybe – intense, peppery.”

“What is peppery supposed to mean?” she laughed, draping her arms around his neck and sifting her fingers through his hair.

“That you’re bitey, feisty,” he explained, thumbs curled over the waistband of her skirt and sliding the circumference until he found the button in the small of her back. “You don’t back down from a challenge.”

“Guess you’ve got me all figured out,” she purred, turning her face this way and that as he tried to kiss her, and in response, the way he shoved her skirt down over her hips was a definitive statement of retaliation. “Leave it to a Harvard grad,” she added with a smirk.

“How hungry are you exactly?” he asked, abandoning the chase for her lips in favour of punishing her neck with a nip that left a small red mark.

“For food?” she sighed, lolling her head back to look into his face properly. “I could eat. The better question is – how hungry are you?”

“Dessert first,” he declared, taking her by the waist and lifting her to sit up on the counter before kissing her eagerly.

Truly one of the pleasures of being an adult, deciding to partake of one’s meals in any order, Miho indulged in the heated exchange of their tongues entwined while she loosened his tie and began on shirt buttons. Work or not, a confident partner was intoxicating; he filled her head with murmured encouragement, and with the echoes of her own engrossed sighs, while their groceries sat behind them untouched. And the moment the cool of the room touched the bare of her chest, fire from his lips was there to enflame the skin. Teeth tugged at her nipples, crimping impressions that threatened to draw blood but fell just short, and the sound of his belt buckle hitting the tiles promised punctuated the increasing rapidity of their breaths.

“Tell me what you want, Subaru,” she hissed into his ear before sucking the lobe between her lips and pinching it firmly.

“I want,” he growled, looping a hand under her knees and turning her sideways on the bench-top, laying her back with his discarded apron cushioning her head, “to taste every part of you.”

The marble counter was cool, slow to warm even beneath the inflamed expanses of her body, and she squirmed a little in just her lovely burgundy underwear.

“You’re not particularly attached to this lingerie are you?” Subaru enquired, smirking with one broad palm against her stomach as if to hold her down, the other suddenly holding a pair of scissors.

“Better out than in,” Miho replied, eyes on his to ensure he could see the trust she was placing in him.

Sharp implements, burning, anything that would leave lasting injuries was a no go for clients, even if that was their kink, and that was clearly outlined in policies provided in the early stages of proceedings. Miho might have pushed the limits to that here and there, allowing some to go far further than the other girls might have been prepared to, but she didn’t think this was one of those instances.

The flat edge of the bottom blade touched lightly against her abdomen, cold metal used for destruction causing a small shudder to raise goosebumps on her skin. Painfully slow, he guided the blade beneath the scalloped lace, and the scissors closed to the sound of Miho exhaling and the clear tear of elastic.

“I like that face,” Subaru smiled, his free hand sliding up her throat, thumb brushing over her lips. “Don’t move now.”

Despite his warning, Miho tensed as the scissors glided further, material giving way easily, bottom edge slipping just slightly into her crease – grazing the hood of her clit, and slithering all the way between her legs.

“Jesus,” Miho breathed, when Subaru cut the rest of her panties away from her thighs, surprisingly aroused by something so little.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been mistaken for someone’s saviour,” Subaru grinned, a whole lot more aggressive in slicing between her breasts and spilling them from their confinement.

“God complex huh?” she sniffed, moving to sit up, but Subaru pressed her down again.

“No, stay right there and close your eyes,” he instructed, his chocolate brown meres sparkling with mischief.

The scissors had been discarded – Miho was naked and laid out - though not tied up, she was still vulnerable.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Talk to me, Subaru,” she prompted, her voice thick with honey.

Honey, now there’s an idea.

But it wasn’t honey that next touched her skin.

The refrigerator had opened and closed, and though – as instructed – Miho kept her eyes shut, Subaru said nothing until she felt a tickle against her left breast.

“What are you…?” she gasped as the soft sensation began to circle her nipple, a gentle wetness leaving a standing trail.

“A proper dessert,” Subaru told her, brushing over her eyelids in an upward motion, and she opened her eyes.

As she lifted her head just slightly, Subaru placed a pitted cherry over her nipple on a bed of stiff, whipped cream.

“Just something you had in the fridge?” she queried, reaching toward his pants, but he took her wrist, and with a click of his tongue placed it back at her side.

“I wasn’t entirely unprepared for tonight you know,” he muttered, drawing a thin line of vanilla scented cream from the back of her hand, lazily up her arm and along her shoulder, before winding neat scrollwork across her collarbone.

“I think this actually constitutes torture,” she muttered, biting her lip. “I’m adding that to my report.”

At this, Subaru paused, and leaned over her face to study it carefully.

“Go ahead and get up if you want me to stop,” he told her seriously, dragging the plastic tip of the piping bag from between her legs, back up to her belly button, though there he left no trail.

At least he knew better than to put that down there.

“Give me something,” she very nearly begged, consciously suppressing the urge to squirm as he created a ridged white line of swirls across her. “Subaru,” she growled, glaring when he added cherries in various places.

“My bet is, you’re usually the one in charge,” he assessed, decorating her other breast. “Someone who doesn’t like to relinquish control, won’t be told, stubborn and vicious in defence of her beliefs.”

Yet she remained motionless but for her measured breathing.

“But you’re so still,” he noted, with a triumphant smirk.

“Who’s profiling who here?” she hissed, narrowing her eyes, and in them Subaru saw that though he was very much correct, she was enjoying his sweet ‘torture’.

“Nothing wrong with a little role reversal is there?” he asked as he straightened, cherry between his fingers upon which he created a little rose of cream.

“I suppose that tells me something about you too,” she noted, watching as he placed the cherry between his lips and leaned toward her.

His eyes were alight with restraint – Miho saw it – as much effort as it was taking for her to play the submissive in their soft little kitchen scenario, he too was holding back.

Cream smeared across her mouth as Subaru offered her the fruit, until Miho allowed him to pass it to her. As she chewed slowly, he traced the outline of her lips with his tongue, maintaining eye contact until he bit firmly over the cherry on her right shoulder.

“Stay,” he told her, voice stern, laced with challenge, following the line he had earlier created, lapping the trail of cream down her arm until all that remained were traces of his saliva.

When the cherry covering her nipple was consumed, Miho closed her eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath, visualising herself from above – the lost smile on her face, the arch of her fingers against the dappled marble counter, the broad stretch of her partner’s shoulders, eyes in smoky overcast, smouldering with passion barely held in check…

Huh?

And she verbalised her surprise in a sharp gasp, her eyes flinging open to find Subaru peering along her body at her in question, tongue poised above her navel.

“Don’t stop,” she hissed, lolling her head to the side and forcing her tensed shoulders to relax. “You know my patience does have limits.”

“Push them,” he commanded, digging his thumbs into the inner creased of her thighs and drawing downward and prying her legs apart.

A pithy retort gathered momentum in her throat and made a dash for freedom, but Miho snapped her teeth closed when Subaru’s tongue touched just below her entrance, tickling with just the very tip, daring her to give in.

“Really? You think that’ll do it?” she whispered harshly, fixing her eyes on the halogen light above – for more reasons than one.

“Then do as you’re told,” he chuckled, before flattening out his tongue, pressing it firmly between her lips and stroking upward.

His fingers followed, spreading the slick of Miho’s anticipation, up over her clit, before sliding back down to the point where she’d even dripped onto the bench. And his index swirled circles around the tightness of her asshole, testing her resolve perhaps.

“You think that’s in my profile?” she breathed, staring, still just staring up though her body begged for her to roll against his persistent stimulation.

“Surprised it’s in both our profiles?” he answered, looking toward her face and licking his lips slowly, pressing insistently until Miho flinched – just her eyebrows, maybe her lips, as he pushed in.

“It’s not in your profile,” she told him, otherwise motionless, watching him watching her over the sickly sweet mess of her breasts.

“Well maybe,” he smiled cockily, as he deliberately he dove deeper, thumb of his other hand pulling back the hood of her throbbing bud and rubbing it ever so slightly with each pass. “Maybe, that’s the difference between he and I – I’ll search out the hidden kinks of my…”

“You and who?” she blinked at the unexpected mention of another man.

And there was only one other man that sprang to mind, and this caused Miho to sit suddenly upright, forcing Subaru to withdraw and straighten.

“Seduction 101,” she coughed out, suddenly very much alert, all trace of heady arousal fled. “Don’t bring another man into the bedroom or… kitchen… unless he’s a prearranged participant with big red bow tied around his cock.” (That may or may not now be nicknamed ‘Domo’ –cough-)

Vigorously she shook her head, baffled.

“Why on Earth would you bring up Goto when you’re just about knuckle deep in my…”

“I didn’t,” Subaru interrupted, stepping forward between her legs that dangled over the edge, and lacing his fingers together behind her ass. “You did.”

“You’re denying your man-crush isn’t who you were referring to?” she grated, barring her teeth as he dragged her right against him, residual cream transferring to his chest.

“I’m not denying anything,” he retorted, his thumbs brushing the top of her crack. “Are you?”

“This isn’t about me,” she volleyed, hands still on the counter either side of herself.

“Right, this is about us,” he agreed. “Two people, who are here, enjoying one another’s company.”

“Then enjoy me,” she hissed into his face, glaring angrily – though she was not angry at him.

Something in his eyes told her he knew that, and his expression softened.

“You’re sticky,” he noted, dragging his thumbnails up her spine and back down again, and Miho rubbed her breasts purposefully against him.

“So are you,” she noted, glad he played along, glad he offered her an opportunity to refocus.

And Miho shoved Goto into a box and closed the lid tightly.

With her legs wrapped securely around her waist, her arms around his neck, Subaru carried Miho out of the kitchen, but he stumbled when she bit into his lower lip, and she found her back up against the wall.

“Ah… you want to get clean or not?” he growled when she released him, wincing when she dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades.

“Dirty is good,” she grinned, and was not disappointed by the ferocity of his reciprocation.

It was hard for her to draw breath, such was the crush of his body against hers – but it had purpose. As he filled her mouth with renewed lust, he wriggled out of his trousers, and not long after, his briefs joined them on the floor.

“Much better,” he announced, gripping her once more and allowing her to come up for air.

“Can’t disagree,” she murmured against his shoulder, scraping teeth across skin. “You’ve tasted plenty of me – put me down and let me return the favour.”

“To get even dirtier?”

“You saying no?” she challenged, perfectly aware he wasn’t.

“No way your profile on me says I’m that crazy,” he laughed, and continued to carry her to the bathroom.

The water thrummed against the glass screen, steam wafting in feathery waves before being drawn away by the silently working exhaust fan. The rhythmic streams splashed sideways as Subaru moved beneath it, warming his back as Miho crouched before him, knees to the swirled black marble shower recess. Resting one hand against the pane, he looked down as she took his shaft between her fingers.

Wordlessly she put it to her lips, kissing softly, softly up its length, and no more – and she was pleased how he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and pursed his lips impatiently. In answer she licked a single line, outlined the head, then kissed again.

“So it’s torture for me too?” he grumbled, wry in his pained expression.

“You reap what you sow,” she smirked up at him, water spray catching in her eyelashes. “And I just want to make sure you last the distance.”

“Last?” he choked out indignantly, placing his other hand lightly against her head and smoothing his fingers through her hair.

“Why don’t you beg me?” she asked, her touch against his balls so light as to barely even register – except his was watching her with such painful scrutiny every slight and glancing touch she afforded him… oh he registered. “Come on, Subaru, talk to me, tell me what you want me to do with this tongue, with these lips, this mouth.”

“I want…” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don’t be crude about it either, Harvard grad,” she grinned, holding his cock delicately, though awkwardly, between just two fingers, barely even touching him at all. “Use your big words.”

“Oh, you’re far meaner than I am,” he sniffed, shaking his head.

“Meaner, is the biggest word you can come up with?” she laughed, pushing up against his hand like she was trying to rise.

“Hey, give a guy a ch… oh mhmm.”

His sentence crumbled in his throat as Miho sucked his cock between her lips and pulled as much of it into her mouth as she could without getting ugly.

Glancing upward, she was pleased to see the way his head hung, the way his eyes had closed, and the slight part of his lips that allowed just enough of his enjoyment to be audible.

“Yessss. Just… like… that,” he encouraged, the pressure of his hand in her moist hair was little more than its weight as she slid him into the hollow of her cheeks, caressing with her tongue as she withdrew him and then licking all the way to the base firmly.

Those sounds were gratifying, affirming, arousing; Miho thought this, every single time she performed oral, and this was no different. She stole his breath, built tension in his muscles, expectation in his mind and anticipation of final satisfaction, and that, was powerful.

Even as he moaned her name to the continuous hiss of the shower, however, leaves crunched beneath her kneecaps, and the wind sighed approvingly against the shadows that concealed them.

“Jesus Miho, stop… stop,” Subaru groaned, trying to tilt her head back and interrupt her far too effective cadence, and Miho blinked back into the bathroom.

“Haaaa,” she exhaled, unable to tease him a little more by grazing her teeth ever so lightly against his head. “Problem?”

“The best kind,” he chuckled breathily, his eyes a little bit hazy, as he stooped to help her to her feet.

That look.

“Don’t tell me you’re ready to pop so soon?” she smiled with infuriating smugness, and in response he spun her around and sandwiched her between his body and the cold tempered glass.

The mirror beyond was clear, and in it Miho was privilege to an unobscured view of herself as Subaru took her hands, and placed them above her head.

“Now we can both watch the faces you make,” he told her, nuzzling his body in behind hers, and this caused her chin to lift in alarm. “Relax,” he crooned, his cock rubbing between her legs, but making no attempt to dig within, “I know the rules – bend, but don’t break, so trust me.”

She didn’t think he was stupid, but with penis involved, there was always a chance for rational thought to take a vacation.

He waited until she looked directly into the mirror, could see she was looking at him over her own shoulder, before sliding his fingers down her crease. As he assailed her clit, he roughly took her left breast and squeezed.

“Soft, or hard?” he hummed, pinching her clit and holding as he awaited her answer.

“Oh, I’m a little of both,” she admitted, her jaw tightening as both hands increased the pressure.

“Masochistic tendencies,” he whispered, biting into the skin just below her right ear. “Sorry, I’m no sadist.”

“Bullshit,” she spat, then cried out when pleasure crossed that threshold, but the moment she moved like she’d lower her arms, he smoothed down with the flat of his hand. “Case in point,” she huffed, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

“Just look at you,” he instructed, resuming circular motions. “You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“Maybe you’re putting me to sleep?” she jabbed, and for her troubles he clamped down on her nipple.

“No crying out this time,” he told her, watching her lips quiver, seeing the muscles in her throat tighten, and delighting in the clench of her thighs as he slid himself between them.

The burn began to spread from her nipple outward, from her clit inward, until she had to clench her eyes shut tightly in order to comply.

Then, with a tingling rush, the pain was replaced by pleasant, comforting warmth, and the light euphoria of endorphins.

“I know criminals and police alike who’d have screamed at less,” he commended, reaching up, and sliding his hands down her arms, turning her once more and nudging her back.

“I’d let you practice your interrogation technique on me, Subaru,” she smiled, as he kissed down her throat, “but Jazz beat you to it.”

“Miss Mann and you, in an interrogation scenario?” he mused, eyes rolling upward, clearly imagining it. “Hot.”

“Not with me, idiot,” she chided, coiling one leg around him and grinding against his thigh. “But since you’re imagining it,” she went on, then spoke the next thickly into his ear, “I wouldn’t tell her no.”

“It’s not too late to call her you know,” he pointed out, testing out the willingness of her rear entrance again with his middle finger. “For scientific purposes of course.”

“Oh, she doesn’t need a re-evaluation,” Miho laughed. “Come on now, enough teasing – if you’re going there, and you really seem like you want to, then you’re going to need more than a finger or two to get me off.”

Really, Subaru didn’t need much more encouragement, quickly dousing her beneath the water’s stream to rinse away any remaining cream, before bundling her out of the shower.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you are?” he suddenly marvelled, wrapping a large, lavender scented bath towel around her. “You know, maybe you should just dump me as a client and marry me.”

Miho shook her head wryly.

It would never get old being told how nice she looked, how great her body was, how it felt, but even off-hand, tongue-in-cheek proposals felt awkward.

And she suddenly wondered how Goto had felt when she’d posed her solution to his hesitation.

“I could do worse, I suppose,” she answered after a few seconds, shuddering when Subaru suckled just momentarily at her clit as he dried up her legs. “And better,” she added cheekily, and he stood, folded the towel over her head and bundled her effectively blindfolded to the bedroom.

“Better?” he snorted as if truly offended, and he gave her a shove onto the bed.

Miho tumbled, flailing for a few seconds while she attempted to untangle herself from the towel, and by the time she’d tossed it aside, Subaru was looping an arm around her middle and pulling her to end of the bed, bending her summarily over several pillows it appeared he’d taken from beneath the comforter.

Allowing herself to be positioned, Miho relaxed – had to relax – and tucked one hand between her legs.

“Money, occupation, education, breeding,” he snorted, tearing across the condom packet with his teeth, watching with ever increasing want as she worked her fingers in and out, spreading the faint gleam of moisture from front to back in clear and open invitation. “Body,” he added, putting one hand on her ass. “What more could you ask for?”

Miho’s answer came as soft, slightly ragged breathing against the fabric softened comforter. In the dimness he could see her eyes were closed, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her brow slightly furrowed.

“Hey,” he prompted, giving her ass cheek a solid slap. “I asked a question you know.”

“I’m waiting, for what more I could ask for,” she told him as she opened her eyes, and pushed herself up onto one elbow. “Unless you want me to…”

“Actually,” he interrupted, suddenly in thought, “you should do that.”

“Hmm,” Miho sighed, rolling onto her back, making a point of sucking on the fingers that had been, moments ago, buried inside herself. “Keeps a tidy house, but makes her do all the work.”

“I just want to watch you squirm without other distractions,” he argued, slowly stroking his rigid shaft, tossing the unused condom accurately into a waste paper basket before lying down beside her. “I want the perfect view of that moment when Miss Control, has absolutely none.”

“If that’s what you want,” she smiled with a slight shrug. “But don’t be mad when you can’t make me cum half as well as I can myself.”

“Ha, no comparison,” he snorted, kissing up her neck to in behind her ear. “Now get to work.”

“So demanding,” she muttered, turning her head to the side, burning her gaze into his as she pulled the hood back over her clit and resumed its zealous fondling.

“I want you to picture me, pressing the head of my cock against your opening,” he told her breathily, and Miho closed her eyes. “I want you to tense in anticipation of that stretch,” he continued, rubbing the pulsing tip of his erection against her outer thigh, “feel it in your stomach boiling and bubbling and building, and moan as you swallow me, gradually, deliberately.”

Subaru’s erotic whispers floated into the dark behind Miho’s eyelids, and as intended, they heightened the ever burgeoning desire in her flesh to feel pleasure at its peak. He’d teased her for far too long, almost as long perhaps, as Yuasa Chiaki – fuck that guy.

But neither were in the image she’d formed. Subaru had told her he wanted to see her with control relinquished, and so she let her mind take her where it wanted to most.

The hands smoothing up her legs were not Subaru’s, the shadow cast over her, not his shape. Fine, inky strands of hair hung slightly over twilight eyes, pools of aching affection flickering lambent strokes against her skin. The faint touch of lips fluttered across her breasts, gliding like the brush of satin, while the unhurried, polish of fingertips explored to the very deepest reaches of her body.

Though it was Subaru who inhaled the word she uttered as her mouth opened, he who engaged the sinuous search of her tongue’s for another, it was those black locks she felt brushing against her forehead.

“Imagine my whole body, pressing you into the soft, sheets,” Subaru suggested, glancing down at the way Miho’s hips had begun to rise to meet the motion of her fingers, “a delicious, heaviness, slick with passion, and sweat, and the most indescribable completeness.”

The weight against her was a familiar one that dragged her deeper into recollection, the nibble at her lips woven with sweet exhales of her name.

“Oh…” she gasped, her jaw locking with the backward tilt of her head, and Subaru had to fight the urge to take her. “Yes…ah…ahh…”

“Right now, I just want to make love to my gorgeous wife,” she heard him say, the impossible friction of him inside her, carrying away the last of her will to resist.

Her orgasm roared like a typhoon, her lungs held in ecstasy’s vice like grip, her body arching up off the bed until Subaru pulled her back down.

“Definitely worth it,” he grinned into her face, but she was still obliviously locked in breathless trembling, hands buried between her legs. “No more holding back,” he hissed into her hair, awkwardly rolling a fresh condom into place and settling himself in behind.

“Oh God,” Miho finally vocalised, swallowing over and over to wet her dry mouth, though the roughness of her breathing made that difficult. “Ngh… ahh…” she moaned, when Subaru bent up her leg and pressed firmly against her asshole. “About fucking time,” she growled, leaning her head back to meet his lips.

And he filled her with such intense pressure she very nearly came again, even before he curled his right arm over her body and stroked across her swollen nub and in between the dripping wetness of her folds.

Slowly at first he dove into her, giving her just enough time to catch her breath before he stole it away with more powerful thrusts. Soon, the room was filled with lustful panting, and moans as firmly entwined as were their writhing bodies.

“Subaru I’m…” Miho whimpered, helpless to say much more in warning before she came a second time, her body staunchly fighting against the stiff buck of her body away from him.

“Again,” he commanded, biting down on her nipple hard, assaulting her clit so mercilessly, Miho actually shrieked against the drowning wave that slammed into once more.

Light-headed though her body felt so heavy with physical rapture, Miho really had to force herself to concentrate – to roll her hips back against him as he pushed forward into her ass, to contract all those internal muscles until the sudden inconsistency of his respiration warned her he was close.

“Come on Subaru, you call this fucking?” she taunted harshly, using all her strength to roll onto her stomach, dragging him part ways with her.

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” he snarled, wrapping both arms around her middle, drawing her up and back against him, while thrusting upward powerfully against the undulation of her pelvis.

“Reward time,” she grinned, grinding him into her with what was left of her energy.

Suddenly Subaru tensed, clamping his arms across Miho’s chest, heaving in great breaths as he came intensely. In that embrace they remained locked, until Subaru’s lips pressed to her shoulder and he pulled her down onto the bed again.

In a comfortable spoon they rested, Miho’s mind drifting to the sensation of other arms that did not wish to let her go.

Drifting.

 It was sunlight tickling her cheek that roused Miho from slumber – not the feeling of Subaru pulling back the doona, or covering her back up; not the light swipe of his fingertips smoothing hair away from her eyes; not the sound of the curtain rails rattling.

Sunlight.

“Uhh, what time is it?” she murmured drowsily, but her thoughts were in disarray.

She had not meant to fall asleep – hell, she never even heard her alarm go off at midnight.

“I don’t have to leave for another hour, so you can sleep a little longer if you like,” Subaru told her, pulling on a pair of striped pyjama bottoms, smiling over at her. “I’ll fix breakfast.”

“No, no need,” she said quickly, fighting back the pleasant ache of her muscles to sit up and put her feet to the cold floor. “I should get going. Damnit, I have appointments.”

“You should at least grab a shower before you run: some coffee?” he said, then grinned widely. “Shall I lend you a pair of my briefs?”

“You’re going to be billed for that underwear you know,” she sniffed, shaking her head. “It’s not my usual shtick, but, this won’t be the first time I slink home commando.”

“You’re going to ride the train like that?” he chuckled.

“Yup,” she answered flippantly, fearlessly.

“Hmm I suppose those molesting perverts know better than to target you.”

“Like I said,” she shrugged, padding across the room, “this isn’t my first rodeo.”

He followed her to the kitchen, watching the sway of her hips, noting the red marks on her back, shoulders and neck, some of which might still be visible even when she was dressed.

“So what happens now?” he asked, his hand touching to his crotch almost unconsciously when Miho bent over to retrieve her skirt and blouse.

“I will write up my final evaluation, we meet to discuss it, and following that I provide you with clients I believe best match both your criteria, and my evaluation of you both,” she answered, turning just in time to see him run his hand through his hair.

There was no mistaking his morning desire, however, clearly reaching out toward her.

“A week or two maybe,” she added, beginning to button up her shirt, glad she’d gone for a bold, solid colour.

“Come on, stay for breakfast,” he tried to encourage when she headed for the front door, her heels tapping quietly against the polished wood.

“It’s not breakfast you’re craving,” she smirked, pausing to press her palm flat against his bare chest. “Someone from MJS will be in touch with you soon.”

“Back in control I see,” he observed wryly.

“Exactly where I need to be,” she told him with a nod, curling her hair into a bun and knotting it there.

“You called his name you know,” he offered, tone offhand, but it was a targeted strike no doubt.

“Whose name?” she questioned – no play, no false innocence – just perfectly crafted denial.

“Doesn’t matter,” he chuckled, shaking his head before leaning toward her a little. “You screamed mine louder.”

She left Subaru’s property and headed in the direction of the station, his parting words and the recollection of the night’s activities in perfect focus.

Yet what to do about it was still so blurry.

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