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TITLE: Fragile Things
SERIES: My Otome
AUTHOR: Dreiser
EMAIL: dreiser7@yahoo.com
YAHOO ID: dreiser7
MY WEBSITE: http://www.dreiser.org/
CONTENT: F/F romance. F/F sex. Haruka/Shizuru.
WARNING: Major character deaths, angst, violence, and extreme situations.
SUMMARY: In a single moment of violence, those who matter most to Haruka Armitage and Shizuru Viola are lost. Together they try to restore the broken pieces of their lives and learn to exist without the person they love.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my relief the summer heat is starting to end.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I told you it would take longer! lol. Finally done though.
Fragile Things
By: Dreiser
Four (Part One)
For three weeks Youko kept Haruka in a medically induced coma to heal her most life threatening injuries. By the time she woke the trial was over and Shizuru was gone. Where she went no one could tell her. Just that if it wasn’t for the appearance of Yukino’s former roommate at Windbloom University, Rin Lake, who was a licensed barrister in Windbloom, Shizuru would have gone without any defense at the trial. Rin insisted on representing both Haruka and Shizuru and did a thorough job of it, bringing witness after witness and endless documentation and evidence of Fidelus Altus’ crimes throughout Earl. Showing the members of The Council the death and destruction they had wrought over a hundred year period.
Rin’s stalwart defense on top of the growing public support for the elimination of the notorious terrorist leaders brought the trial to a quick end. The Council settled on two options of punishment, one was to turn over their GEMs and retire as Otome, the other was to have their powers restricted and to be on house arrest, unable to leave the grounds of Garderobe for a year. Unbeknownst to Haruka, her friend had already given the Bewitching Smile Amethyst GEM to Sara.
The moment the trial was over, Shizuru disappeared. Nao tried to follow her at first but Shizuru escaped her observation as she traveled to the distant borders of Zipang. Going into far east countries that were desolate and beyond Garderobe’s influence. They couldn’t tell Haruka where she was or why she left but Haruka had her suspicions. She knew all too well from their months together how Shizuru took the blame onto herself. Haruka was hardly immune to that habit herself, they both shared it when it came to Yukino and Natsuki’s deaths. But it was different with Shizuru. There was something darker attached to her feelings, a tangible self-loathing that Haruka could see turning inwardly violent, leading the brunette to punish herself.
Haruka was grateful to Natsuki for having Shizuru promise not to kill herself. Shizuru spoke of it often in her sleep deprived state, cursing her inability to commit suicide because Natsuki had asked her not to, how she made her promise, and Haruka often thought it was only that promise keeping Shizuru alive. She hoped it would remain that way wherever her friend had gone. The irrational part of her wanted to chase after Shizuru, make sure she was all right, but she couldn’t. Her injuries were still too fresh, her left leg and right arm in a cast, and Haruka had a sinking feeling Shizuru had disappeared because of her.
Because Shizuru blamed herself for Haruka’s injuries, because she no longer felt she should be around Haruka, that she was too dangerous or some other jackass idea the brunette had gotten into her head. Haruka hobbled down the walk of Garderobe, towards her favorite hill that lurked in the shadow of trees, moving slowly on her crutches. She hated being like this. It showed her ineptitude, her weakness, and she hated that Shizuru felt she had to run from her in order to protect her.
They were supposed to help each other but Shizuru was gone and with her absence Haruka lost focus. All her life she had a driving force behind her existence. When she was a child it was living up to her parents expectations, then came her ambition to become an Otome, and after meeting Yukino the desire to share a life with her, to be with her always. When Yukino was killed Haruka lost her drive until she saw Shizuru falling to pieces, going through the same pain as her, but handling it so much worse. Shizuru was her reason for getting up in the morning, to take care of her, to support her, and now Shizuru had left and Haruka didn’t know what she should do. Part of her considered retiring, giving up her GEM and looking for the other woman. It wasn’t as if she would be much good to Garderobe like this. Youko said she had another four months before she’d be fully healed and after that she wouldn’t even be able to leave the school grounds due to her sentence.
Sitting on the hill and dropping the crutches on the ground next to her, Haruka stared at the sun hanging low in the sky. Unbidden, Haruka’s eyes fell to her ring that glinted in the sunlight, barely visible past the edge of her cast. A year had passed since Yukino was taken from her. It didn’t feel like that much time had gone by, the pain was so fresh that it felt as if it happened yesterday, but she knew that was the truth of the matter. Would Yukino still love her? Haruka thought about that sometimes. Yukino was the kindest person that Haruka had ever known but she had always possessed a very clear idea of what was right and wrong. Her actions with Shizuru certainly fell into the category of wrong. She wondered if Yukino could forgive her for all the things she had done during those long months with Shizuru.
Her actions went against everything that Yukino believed in, everything they stood for when they were united as the President and the Continental Orb Topaz of Aries. Morals were important to Yukino. In her more sardonic moments she would say that was the only thing she really had as a politician and if she was to lose them she’d lose herself. Haruka was well aware she had abandoned her own morals in pursuit of those men.
She had never done anything like that before, not even under former President Kenzo Xavier's command, whose wife had died in an attack by Fidelus Altus. Even in the midst of his frantic assault against the terrorist groups who constantly attacked their country, she never aided in plans to murder their leaders. Ones to flush them out, to capture them, to bring them to trial, but never outright murder. He had never ordered her to do anything remotely close but Yukino still disapproved of his actions.
And what she had done with Shizuru, Haruka thought that even Xavier wouldn't have completely approved. That was why she knew Yukino would be disgusted with her.
Haruka had once found solace in the idea of seeing her wife when she died, being reunited with her in the afterlife, but now she almost feared it because of everything she had done. She found herself doubting that Yukino would greet her with a smiling face and a loving touch because she had betrayed all that Yukino stood for. Because she had helped horrible crimes to be carried out in Yukino’s name and she didn’t think that was something that Yukino could forgive.
Running her finger over the surface of her wedding ring, Haruka traced its engraving. She heard the sound of leaves underfoot and looked up to see Sara standing by her side. There were a handful of people that always made Haruka want to smile when she saw them and Sara was among them. Ever since she met the younger blonde at Garderobe she’d felt attached to her. Maybe it was Sara’s intelligence and eagerness or her bright smile but mostly Haruka thought it was because she gave a feeling similar to the one Haruka had when she was with Yukino. It wasn’t the same, they didn’t have that trust, that love, that loyalty, between them but there was something about Sara that reminded Haruka of Yukino and it only served to make her that much dearer to the older Otome. Now it was a melancholy thing to realize. Being with Sara was like experiencing a shadow of Yukino, close but never quite good enough, and it hurt as much as it provided relief.
“Welcome back,” Haruka murmured, squinting up at the younger woman who was bathed in the sunlight. As the 1st Column matters of diplomacy were Sara’s responsibility and as such she was often away. “How was your trip to the whistle lands?”
“Western lands,” corrected Sara with a lilting and humorous affection, sitting next to Haruka on the hill.
Although this was the norm, something Sara often did for her, Haruka flinched because that habit of correcting her verbal follies was such a part of her daily life with Yukino. She didn’t know why she felt strangely sick when Sara did it because Shizuru had corrected her many times during their months together but Shizuru… she could never be confused with Yukino. Their differences were as vast as night and day but Sara had so much in common with Yukino. Having her do such things was almost as if some part of Yukino had returned to her in that moment.
“The trip was successful. King d’Florince VIII has always been among the most reasonable monarchs,” said Sara absently. They lapsed into silence, watching the setting sun, until Haruka felt Sara’s gaze piercing her. She tried to ignore it but found she didn’t have the ability and she slowly turned her attention to the other Otome. “Haruka,” Sara said her name solemnly. “Have you made a decision about which sentence from The Council you’re going to accept?”
Her left hand seemed to move of its own volition, gently pushing up the wire rimmed glasses that slid down Sara’s nose. It was an automatic and natural gesture that Haruka couldn’t seem to control. Ignoring Sara’s question, she voiced one of her own, one that had lingered in the back of her mind ever since she regained consciousness. “Why don’t you call me oneesama anymore?” asked Haruka bluntly, her eyes steady as they met Sara’s, maintaining their connection even as Sara blushed dark red.
“It doesn’t seem right,” Sara muttered, breaking her gaze away from Haruka’s. The blush grew stronger as she stared at the ground, picking at the grass nervously. “We’re both Columns now, colleagues, and I just thought…”
Sara lifted her head and in that moment, in the darkness that was settling in, she reminded Haruka so much of Yukino. There was an aching vulnerability in her expression and it tugged at Haruka’s heart. They were so much alike that it almost hurt but it wasn’t something Haruka would wish different because in this second it was almost like having Yukino with her again. Reaching out with her good hand, she tucked an unruly lock of hair behind Sara’s ear. Her hair and eyes, they were too light compared to Yukino’s, but they were so very close and Haruka was captivated by the similarities.
“It’s fine,” said Haruka, her voice thick with emotion. Her fingertips spread out to caress Sara’s cheek and a wisp of a smile formed on her features. “We’ve been equals for a long time. It’s good you finally figured that out.”
The other Column blushed again and it was there again, that echo of Yukino, and it soothed Haruka, relaxing her in its familiarity and she found her hand falling down, entwining her fingers with Sara’s. Turning to look into the forest, aware they would have to go inside before it became too dark, Haruka thought it was strange to hear Sara say her name without the oneesama attached. Maybe it was the way it was said, with a barely contained excitement and anxiety. Almost as if Sara couldn’t quite believe she was addressing Haruka that way and it made the blonde wonder why that was. It wasn’t as if saying her name was any sort of major event but it appeared to be that way for Sara. Her gaze drifted back to her companion who was looking into the distance, unaware of Haruka’s attention, and she recalled what Shizuru often said about her.
That Sara had feelings for her, that Sara wanted to be with her, that Sara desired her. Haruka denied the possibility for years, accounting Sara’s behavior to the simple crush that all underclassmen have for their sempai but now she wondered if Shizuru was right. In the past the idea would have caused her to panic because she never wanted anyone to entertain ideas that would even suggest taking her from Yukino’s side. Her life was with Yukino and her love belonged to her alone but now Yukino was dead and Haruka didn’t know how to go on without her. The purpose she always had since she was a child disappeared with Yukino’s passing and Haruka didn’t have any clue how to regain it.
“What should I do?” Haruka said this without even realizing it and Sara looked to her, startled by the doubt lacing her words. “Ever since I was little being an Otome was all I wanted but I don’t know anymore… what I did, it’s not something an Otome would do. And Yukino would hate me for it. I know she would.”
“Haruka,” Sara said her name in a hush, looking at her with wide and sympathetic eyes.
“I don’t deserve to be a Column,” said Haruka harshly, her self-disgust evident. She tugged her good hand away from Sara’s and clenched it into a fist, resting it on her thigh as she stared into the forest. “I’m a disgrace.”
“No,” said Sara fiercely and her fingers pressed into the skin of Haruka’s jaw, turning her head until their eyes met. She had that tenacious expression that she had worn so many times in the past and it almost made Haruka smile to see it again. For some odd reason she had always found it charming on Sara’s features. “Maybe what you did, they weren’t the actions of a Column, but you are one, Haruka, and you deserve to be one. Fumi-sama chose you for a reason, don’t forget that.”
“She made a mistake,” Haruka retorted, jerking her face away from Sara’s touch, disturbed by the comfort it provided.
“The Founder doesn’t make mistakes,” said Sara with a frown. Haruka snorted in response and Sara studied the older woman, considering how she should respond. This was a new side to Haruka, one that she had never encountered before, and as much as it saddened her to see Haruka this way it provided a strange thrill. Discovering something new about the person she had always cared for but kept a proprietary distance from for so many years. “If you really think what you did is so horrible then why not do something to make up for it? Focus on that instead of feeling sorry for yourself.”
Sara had seen Haruka angry countless times throughout the years, the older Otome had never been someone to repress her emotions, but Sara had never seen her look like this before. “My wife is dead,” the words seemed to be ripped from Haruka more than said and her features were consumed by grief. “She was murdered and I couldn’t save her. I should’ve saved her. I always saved her before but I failed and she’s dead. The only woman I’ve ever loved is gone. I was with her for nineteen years and you think I’m feeling sorry for myself?” Haruka moved forward suddenly, her good hand reaching out to Sara like a claw but she stopped suddenly, clenching it into a fist and pounding it onto the ground in between them. “You don’t know anything!”
“Then explain it to me,” said Sara quietly.
It was silent except for Haruka’s harsh breathing and the sound of leaves blowing in the wind. Haruka stared at the ground, laughing again, broken in her despair, and muttered, “I’m not smart enough to understand it.”
“You’re doing it again,” Sara accused lightly and Haruka chuckled, shaking her head, her fingers digging into the ground and Sara sighed, watching her. Reaching for Haruka’s hand, she rose to her feet and tugged gently on it. “Come on,” she murmured. “We should go inside. I’ll make you dinner.”
“Sara Gallagher,” Haruka said her name like she used to, a calming verbal caress that caused Sara to blush at the sound. She lifted her head, looking up with an expression that seemed to plead for an answer. “What should I do?”
Surrendering to temptation, Sara touched Haruka’s cheek, marveling at how soft her skin was. Haruka seemed almost invulnerable in battle in some strange way. How she could take so much damage, withstand so many injuries, and get right back up and return to the fight. The fact she had survived Shizuru’s attack on her was nothing short of miraculous and Sara wasn’t sure any other Otome could have done it. Because of those battles she almost expected Haruka to be hard to the touch, rough somehow, like some physical representation of the tolerance she built up over the years. Instead her skin was smooth and warm and Sara felt herself grow hot as the contact continued.
Shaking her head, trying to get her wits about her, Sara met Haruka’s eyes and murmured, “I can’t tell you that.” It was so strange, having this conversation with Haruka Armitage who was once the portrait of self-assurance, forever confident of her path in life. To question others about it, to ask them what she should do, it wasn’t like Haruka in the least and only served to increase Sara’s worry for her. “I will say that we need help here at Garderobe. Miss Maria has her hands full as the interim Principal and Yukariko is working overtime since she had to take over all of her classes.”
“Fighting Tactics and Close Quarters Combat,” said Haruka, a thoughtful look emerging on her features.
“You were Miss Maria’s favorite student, weren’t you?” Sara said in recollection.
“Ask her,” Haruka mumbled, slightly embarrassed but allowing Sara to help her to her feet, watching as the younger woman reached for her crutches. Taking them from Sara and settling them under her arms, she gingerly moved onto the walkway. Haruka mulled over everything that had been said and she knew Sara was right. She was feeling sorry for herself but she couldn’t seem to help it. Yukino’s death absorbed her during every second of the day and she wondered if it had been this bad when she with Shizuru, completing their mission. Probably not, because she had something to focus on. Maybe if she remained a Column, taught Miss Maria’s classes, and immersed herself in training to aid in her recovery it could provide a temporary escape from the misery of Yukino’s death if only for a few hours a day. “I’ll teach them,” said Haruka firmly.
“Good,” said Sara with a subdued happiness. She was afraid to show too much joy at this decision, unsure how Haruka would react. But a smile still formed on her features as they made their way into building where the staff living quarters were located. Pulling open the door for Haruka who grunted in thanks, her smile grew a little bit wider. Following after Haruka, letting it bang shut, Sara wasn’t aware of the bounce in her step as she moved to the other Column’s side. “What do you want to eat?”
Their conversation was so every day, so inane, as they made their way to Haruka’s newly assigned quarters that Sara could almost forget how much had changed. That this was the same woman she had looked up to as a Coral in Garderobe but seeing the dark circles under Haruka’s eyes and the subtle tightness in her jaw, she knew that wasn’t the truth. The Haruka from then couldn’t return, too much had happened, but someone happier, more stable, would be eventually emerging if Sara had anything to say about it. Someone who, hopefully, might learn to let go of her wife’s death and move on with her life. That was someone Sara was more than willing to wait for. Even if a small voice in her head told her she was a fool for doing so.
—-
Quang Bihn was a small but heavily populated country. It was called the crossroads to the east because of the train line that traveled through the entire length of the nation. A significant portion of its citizens lived in poverty and country’s economy relied almost entirely on those traveling through its borders. Shizuru had been here many times throughout her years as a Column and she knew it would be the perfect place to disappear from Nao’s persistent tracking. Travelers were a dime a dozen in Quang Bihn and its people had developed a certain apathy which kept them at a permanent disinterest. They wouldn’t give her a second glance and they wouldn’t ask questions. She could lose herself in the crowd and no one would be the wiser.
She had been here for just a week when she found herself at the Ve Dem brothel. Prostitution was legal in Quang Bihn and was an unfortunate source of money for most of its women. Shizuru was familiar with this brothel, having noticed it in her travels through the country. She had teased Natsuki about going inside it during a trip they took together. In her mind’s eye she could still see Natsuki’s blush and hear her stammer. While prostitution was illegal in Windbloom, there was still a certain sexual freedom there that was lacking in Natsuki's homeland. And so Shizuru always enjoyed teasing her lover about such matters, like visiting a brothel. She couldn't help herself, Natsuki was always so adorable when embarrassed. Drawn by this memory and wanting some sort of companionship, Shizuru finally went inside.
Soon she was spending more time in the brothel than the room she was renting. The food and drink that came with her time at the brothel weren’t cheap but it wasn’t like Shizuru came from a poor family. She had more than enough money and being there, being with these women, helped to drown out the sorrow of Natsuki’s death. It also helped that she was keeping herself in a state of near constant intoxication. When her mind was blurry, unable to focus, she couldn’t see the wreckage of that car, and imagine her Natsuki burning inside of it. When she was drunk the loss didn’t hurt as much and she could forget how alone she was in the world. It was a slow death she was putting herself through, Shizuru knew that, but what did she have to live for?
Shizuru was well aware she was favored by the brothel workers. Women customers were a rare commodity, particularly wealthy ones who tipped well and liked to give as well as receive pleasure. She heard them speak about her in whispers when they thought her passed out from the alcohol. Wondering where she came from, how she came upon so much money, and remarking with barely contained sly intent of her beauty and skill in bed. Her proud nature found a small bit of pleasure in this and the way the women scrambled when she arrived, instantly full of smiles and charms as they invited her to share their beds. Shizuru knew it had little to do with her but instead what she represented but it hardly mattered. When she was with these women she wasn’t alone and when she had sex with them the physical pleasure distracted from her emotional pain.
In those moments, absorbed in their touch, smell, and taste, her mind foggy from alcohol Shizuru briefly knew what it was to be happy again. But the feeling would always fade and she would recognize how hollow it all was. It wasn’t true happiness, just an illusion, a trick of her body trying to fool her mind. In the end she would always return to the reality that was Natsuki’s death and the fact that no matter how beautiful and sexually talented any of these women were no one made her feel like Natsuki. No one could touch her the way that Natsuki did and when she did recall this, she was numb from the desolation it wrought.
There was a girl at the brothel, barely nineteen, who reminded Shizuru desperately of Natsuki. Her hair was the same shade, just cut shorter, and her eyes were just as bright and determined except they were blue instead of green. There had more in common than they shared in differences and most of all there was an atmosphere about her that was so like Natsuki. She had a stubbornness to her and a quiet but caring nature though she tried to act as hardened as her colleagues.
Rebecca.
Whenever Shizuru arrived at the brothel she made sure Madame Tien, its proprietor, knew Rebecca was the one worker she couldn’t be placed with. Just the idea of being with her was too horrible, too tempting, the alcohol already addled her mind, allowing her to forget her misery and if she was with Rebecca and she was drunk enough she might be able to pretend it was her Natsuki. That she never died, that she was with her again, only to wake up sober enough in the morning to know otherwise. The pain of just imagining such a thing was enough to keep Shizuru far from the girl.
While she managed to stay away from the girl at the brothel, Shizuru couldn't ignore the scene before her. In the crowded market place near Ve Dem, she saw Rebecca in the midst of an argument with a man she recognized as one of the girl's regulars. His fingers were wrapped around her arm and he was dragging her through the crowd as she struggled against his grip. There were some onlookers, mostly travelers to the region, but the citizens turned a blind eye to the incident. Shizuru watched Rebecca struggle against him, scratching at his arms, watched as he turned and struck her, sending her toppling to the ground. Watched her cry out with a face so much like Natsuki’s and suddenly Shizuru couldn’t watch any longer. Striding through the market place, she grabbed a broom from a nearby shopkeeper.
Those eyes, blue not green, looked at her with disbelief and Shizuru knew why this was. Sometimes Rebecca would come to talk to whoever she was with for the night when they thought she was passed out. She’d speculate why Shizuru never asked for her, wondering if she’d insulted her somehow, wishing for a client she considered to be as nice as the brunette woman. It created a guilt in her, hearing Rebecca say these things, but Shizuru couldn’t risk it, being with this girl, letting herself forget, letting herself imagine Natsuki was with her again only to lose her all over again. It would destroy her, she knew that. But all the same she couldn’t let this go on, allow this girl who looked like her Natsuki to be abused right before her eyes.
The man’s hands were on her again, holding her far too tight when Shizuru tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at her with irritation and anger, demanding what she wanted and Shizuru shifted the broom in her hand, noting that the brothel wasn’t that far away. Close enough that Rebecca could easily run to safety once she had taken care of him. It was late in the afternoon and Shizuru had just woken up, she hadn’t really begun drinking yet, just one glass so far, enough to take away the pounding in her head and remove the slight shake in her hands. Enough to make her slightly foggy but still retain most of her reflexes.
“Release her,” Shizuru said, her voice silky, but the underlined threat was all too evident.
“Or what?” the man demanded with derision and just for good measure, he yanked Rebecca to her feet, squeezing her arm tightly and causing the girl to release a whimper of pain.
“Or I hurt you,” murmured Shizuru and all he could do was release a snort of laughter before she spun the broom in her hand, turning it so the handle was facing him. Then with a hard and fast strike to his stomach he was on his knees, releasing his hold on Rebecca. Keeping her eyes on him, she told the girl, “Return to the brothel.”
Whether the girl left right away, Shizuru didn’t know, she was focused on the man who was trying to get to his feet but she hit him again, a controlled blow to his face that managed to crack his jaw. He screamed and cursed at her, attempting to rise but she continued her attack until he was crumpled on the ground in a fetal position and the broom was snapped in half from her efforts. When it was over the normally hectic market place was eerily silent and Shizuru stared at the man, lying in a pool of his own blood but still alive and breathing. She wondered if it was the alcohol that kept her in a fog which prevented her from seeing red. Or maybe it was the fact she didn’t attack him for Natsuki and that was why the veil of rage never fell over her eyes.
Regarding the broken broom, Shizuru sighed and returned to the shopkeeper, digging through her pockets to present him with several coins. “To replace it,” she murmured, handing over the broom. The one sided battle ended and the witnesses reluctant to discuss the details heralded police arrival onto the scene. They made half hearted attempts to discover what occurred and Shizuru ignored them, continuing to the brothel where she was met by the figure of Madame Tien.
“That was a thing of beauty, my dear,” Madame Tien drawled, her elegant cigarette holder resting in between the tips of her fingers. She was standing in the grand entrance to the brothel and Shizuru noted the figure of Rebecca huddled amongst the other workers. “Hoang has been troublesome lately. Thinks he has rights to my girls because he pays for an hour or two of their time. It was good of you to show him otherwise. I did enjoy how fitting it was to rid Rebecca of that garbage using a broom.”
“Does it earn me a lower rate?” Shizuru inquired, not really wanting or needing one, but despising the sense that this woman might think she was a decent person now. Someone to believe in and rely on, someone that she could never be again.
“I’ll give you free drinks for the day,” countered Madame Tien, ashing her cigarette and arching an eyebrow. “Which is far too generous of me considering how much you can drink, Shizuru-san.”
Rolling her eyes at this, Shizuru shifted her stance and looked into the brothel, trying to decide who she wanted to share her temporary bastion of free alcohol with. As she did this, she noted the Madame watching her and with feigned boredom Shizuru turned to the older woman and asked, “Is there something else?”
“I have an unfortunate number of customers who are like Hoang,” Madam Tien began smoothly. “They often treat my girls far more roughly than I would like and try to rob me of my money and goods. I do have Feng to help with some of these incidents but as our chef it isn’t his area of expertise. You, however, seem to have a natural talent, shall we say?”
“And?” Shizuru prompted, her eyes narrowing.
“And I wonder if you would consider working for me,” said Madame Tien, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Protect my girls from men like Hoang. I could offer you a decent wage along with free room and board and regular meals. However,” Madame Tien had a droll tone to her voice and a knowing look in her gaze. “Your drinking is too regular for it to come free. The same as your visits to my girls. If I were to give those away to someone with your appetites it would reduce my profits greatly.”
Her first instinct was to refuse but as her gaze drifted over the brothel workers it landed on Rebecca, looking at her with eyes shining with gratitude, and it was so close to her Natsuki that Shizuru felt a flicker of joy in her heart. She couldn’t ever be with Rebecca like she was the others but being near her was a very appealing prospect. The room she rented was nearly always empty as she spent almost all her time at the brothel anyway so living there would be more convenient. And perhaps this would provide a distraction, something besides the alcohol to keep her mind from drifting to the reality of Natsuki’s death.
Shifting her attention to Madame Tien who watched her with expectant and lidded eyes, Shizuru stated, “I want a discount.”
“Fifteen percent off drink and ten for the girls but I expect you to tip them as generously as in the past,” said Madame Tien firmly, her kimono sweeping as she turned and walked into her establishment. “Welcome to our family, Shizuru-san,” she seemed to purr the words, looking over her shoulder, a slow smile spreading on her features. “We’re glad to have you.”
Dipping her head in response, Shizuru thought absently that she would need to purchase a weapon for this new job. Chuckling as the workers swarmed her, hanging on her arms and kissing her in thanks, she contemplated getting Madame Tien to buy one for her. It was a work related expense, after all.
—-
Two weeks had gone by since she took the job as protector of Madame Tien’s brothel and in that time she had fallen into a comfortable routine. She slept the morning and early afternoon away, patrolled the brothel in the late afternoon and evening, taking a break only to share her dinner with whatever brothel workers were free. Long into the night was when she retired to her room where she would spend an hour cleaning her jian, a local type of sword which had been provided by Madame Tien for her work. Her bed was shared with one or sometimes two of the brother workers, whomever was eager to spend time with her.
As long as they weren’t Rebecca, that is. No matter how much the girl flirted with her, hinted at her desire, Shizuru rebuffed her advances and had even gone so far as to get her fellow workers to let her know she wasn’t interested. Sitting in the doorway of her small balcony that overlooked the city, Shizuru lay the sword on her lap. Lightly tapping powder onto the blade, she began to gently rub rice paper in a horizontal path down the jian. Cleaning the weapon was an oddly relaxing process that left Shizuru’s mind gratefully free of thought. Especially when she was on her second glass of blue fire. It was a favorite drink of hers. Blue Fire was a distilled beverage named for its color and the burning sensation it left on a person’s tongue upon consumption. Whenever she had it Shizuru felt a fog fall over her mind that much quicker.
The powder removed, Shizuru was reaching for a small bottle of oil when the door to her small room slid open. Looking up, Shizuru’s lips curled into a smile on seeing Lydia’s curvaceous figure. “I thought you said you wouldn’t have time for me,” she said in a playful accusation, leaning back against the wall and applying a few drops of oil onto a clean sheet of rice paper. “My heart nearly shattered from sadness when you said such a thing. I do so cherish our time together.”
Chuckling in response, Lydia sat next to Shizuru, resting her head on her shoulder and watching as the brunette spread the oil evenly over the surface of the sword. “Pretending with me is a waste, Shizuru-san,” Lydia said, toying with Shizuru’s kimono and pulling it away from her neck, her breath hot on Shizuru’s skin. “None of us are special to you.”
“That isn’t true,” Shizuru murmured, keeping her eyes focused on her jian, concentrating on finishing the cleaning ritual. “If anything I would say that I love all of you the same. Which means all of you are special to me. I do protect you, don’t I?”
“That’s your job,” pointed out Lydia, taking the sword from Shizuru and sliding it into the scabbard. Turning to the brunette who regarded her with a lidded gaze, Lydia smiled and hiked up her dress, settling herself onto Shizuru’s lap. Wrapping her arms around Shizuru’s neck, she leaned forward, putting their lips just a breath apart. “Rebecca’s the only one you’ve ever saved when you weren’t being paid to which I think makes her a little more special than the rest of us.”
Instead of replying, Shizuru pulled Lydia forward in a smooth movement, their breasts pressing together as she seized the other woman’s lips in a rough kiss. When they parted several minutes later, Lydia chuckled again and questioned Shizuru on the amount of drinks she had consumed. “Two blue fires,” Shizuru said carelessly, reaching for her glass and pouring more of the liquid in so she could begin her third. “Hardly anything out of the ordinary.”
“Maybe for you,” Lydia said with dry humor, untying Shizuru’s obi in an easy and practiced gesture. “I notice you’re ignoring my remark about Rebecca being special. I’m not the only one who thinks it, you know. Even Rebecca does. Although she’s not too happy about it because apparently being special means not getting to share your bed.”
“She makes a good enough wage without my money lining her pockets,” Shizuru responded sardonically, taking a long drink of the blue fire and relishing the burn in her throat. Though the feeling was far from pleasant she strangely enjoyed it because she could use it to track her state of inebriation. The less it burned the foggier she became and the easier it was to forget losing her Natsuki. Allowing herself to be swept up in the momentary pleasure of another woman’s embrace instead of comparing them to her deceased lover only to find them always lacking. “What does she have to complain about?”
“Now, now,” Lydia chastised, pushing open the kimono and smiling at what it revealed, her hands sliding over Shizuru’s hips and up her sides. “You shouldn’t play dumb, it’s so unlike you. I’m sure you know what that poor girl wants.”
“And why should I entertain her infatuation?” questioned Shizuru in glib tones, watching with veiled interest as Lydia’s hands moved over her breasts and toyed with her nipples. The alcohol had created a hint of that separation she enjoyed, where her mind was distant from her body, and her thoughts because addled and blurred but it wasn’t enough that she couldn’t relish the caress of another woman. Especially when they were as skilled as Lydia. “She’s a girl. I prefer women.”
Smirking at this, Lydia slid upwards, kissing Shizuru hard. Out of all the women she had slept with in the brothel, Shizuru thought Lydia was the best at kissing. Perhaps it was because she enjoyed it so much but hardly ever did it. The workers almost never kissed their clients and Shizuru had known from the start she was an exception. She never asked why she was but she imagined it was the same reason they liked to flirt with her and babied her from time to time. Treating her like she was something far less dangerous than what she was. They saw something sad and sympathetic in her rather than the monster in hiding.
There were moments when Shizuru hated this deception. No matter what society thought of these women, the lack of value placed on their lives, they were good people and they deserved a better protector than her. Someone who wasn’t twisted, someone who didn’t leave destruction in her wake. She considered leaving. Wondered why she had accepted the job from Madame Tien. Why she was letting these women try and get close to her. They never would though, she couldn’t let that happen, not after what she did to Haruka. She was the only person Shizuru let close enough to see the monster within, a monster not even Natsuki had fully witnessed because just being with Natsuki controlled it, kept it at some sort of peace. Shizuru let Haruka see it though. She didn't hide anything from Haruka because Haruka understood and that intimacy almost killed her.
She almost killed her.
Lydia’s hands were hot on her skin, pushing the kimono off her shoulders and maneuvering her onto the futon. It was different, allowing herself to be led along but it happened often since she arrived at this brothel. Whenever she was with her Natsuki she was swept up in her desire, consumed by it and by the need to possess Natsuki. While she found all the workers at the brothel very attractive she didn’t have the same feelings for them. Their touch wasn’t something she yearned for, instead it was an undeserved comfort, a pleasant distraction, and it gave her a few rare moments of solace. That was why she let the women she was with determine the pace of their encounters, let them deem what they were comfortable with, instead of citing her demands.
Certainly this was a large reason why she quickly became a favorite at the brothel. That and her habit of leaving sizeable tips. The kimono slid off her body, a whisper of rustling fabric, and Lydia was naked now, lowering her body so skin met skin and her head dipped down, kissing Shizuru’s breasts in gesture that was almost reverent. Just the top of Lydia’s head, that was all that Shizuru could see of her, and her hair was dark blonde… almost brown… lighter than Natsuki’s but darker than Haruka’s.
This was good, this touch, this sensation, this wet suck of those lips around her nipples, but it wasn’t her Natsuki and something in Shizuru wondered would it be like if it was Haruka. Would she touch her like Natsuki? No, that wasn’t right. No one could do that. Not even Haruka who understood and accepted her, mad and selfish as she was. Haruka would touch her as only Haruka could. She imagined it would be similar to how she was in battle, painfully open and eager, her smile burning bright like the sun.
It was far too tempting, imagining such things, and Shizuru forced herself to focus on the present, watching as Lydia slid down her body, nudging her thighs apart with expertise. This was all she could have, this temporary respite, nothing permanent, nothing that brought a real and true happiness like she had with her Natsuki. There was just the here and the now, the fleeting joy of her orgasm sweeping over her, drawn out by the talent of Lydia’s tongue and fingers.
Before she was with Natsuki she didn’t know sex could be special, could be more than pleasure, could be something that involved emotions and your mind far more than your body. Those days were gone though. What she had with these women it was only her body, her mind was somewhere else entirely, and her heart was with her Natsuki always. Shizuru didn’t think she would ever feel a love like that again.
Now it was over and she was back where she started. Her heart buried away, those things Natsuki taught her, all those emotions she experienced in their time together were locked up, safe where they couldn’t torment her and Shizuru was left to these hollow comforts. Drowning herself in the embrace of these women who she could never love and could never love her but they could make her body feel good and they could make her mind forget and that was enough to numb her heart.
—-
Rage was something that Shizuru understood all too well. She was certain she reflected it when she beat these men. The ones who took pleasure in the pain of others and thought the acceptable place to take this belief was to a brothel. Shizuru thought it was true, more or less, with other brothels, other owners, but Madame Tien had an strange protectiveness over those who worked for her. Such as abiding to their preferences in gender and sexual proclivities and sometimes even looks.
Madame Tien hired her to protect them from men like the one standing before her, gripping a bronze statue that Shizuru knew he had plans to assault her with. Assault her like he had tried to do with Beth but Shizuru had taught them well. Beth had used those lessons Shizuru gave them in the late afternoon to fend him off as she screamed for help. Now here they were, Shizuru facing the man whose rage she understood, who flew at her with that statue, trying to bash her head in.
The jian hung loosely at her side, tied onto her obi, and Shizuru removed the sword from her belt, scabbard and all. Sidestepping the man’s attack, she slid the jian from the scabbard and extended her foot. This caused him to fall face forward and she took the opportunity to hit him hard in the back of the neck with her heavy wooden scabbard. He fell unconscious to the floor with a loud thud and Shizuru stared at him impassively, sliding her sword back into the scabbard which she noted was chipped from the blow with his head. More workers gathered at the door and she instructed them to get Feng to dump him outside the property where the thieves would most likely pick him over.
Walking from the room, Shizuru couldn’t help but smile as she heard Beth cursing at him and the sound of several solid kicks. When she was eating a very late dinner the redhead came to thank her, noting it had been a few weeks since she spent the night with Shizuru. As she watched her walk away, an alluring swing to her hips Shizuru wondered why anyone would want to hurt someone that beautiful. Shizuru didn’t know why but she understood that look in his eyes, that one of absolute fury and madness, beyond hope and reason. It was one she had worn for countless months as she killed those men.
The rest of her shift passed without event, perhaps those who would have caused trouble were scared by her defeat of the man which had been so quick and easy that to Shizuru it was akin to swatting a fly. Sitting on her balcony, she drank her third glass of blue fire slowly, knowing if she drank too much she would become absorbed in the memories of her Natsuki but if she didn’t have enough her mind would be clear enough to focus on the pain of her loss, and the guilt of her actions. Shizuru had become an expert when it came to her own inebriation, how drunk she could be and still do her job, protecting these women, but still be unable to think completely clearly, enough that she couldn’t contemplate the misery of a life without Natsuki.
If Beth didn’t come to her room soon she would have to stop drinking. Four blue fires were as far as she could go before she would become melancholy and begin to imagine Natsuki was with her again, hear whispers of her in her mind. Shizuru’s eyes fell to her scabbard lying in her lap, taking a slow drink of the blue fire. A small frown tugged at her lips as she ran her fingers over the chipped wood. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her, this cheap scabbard being damaged, but it did and it made her want to bash the man who had caused the damage on the head with it again.
Maybe it was the drink or her irrational anger about the scabbard being damaged but Shizuru never heard the door to her room slide open and didn’t notice Rebecca’s presence until she was hovering at her side, looking at the scabbard. “Did he break it?” her voice was in Shizuru’s ear, low and husky. It lacked Natsuki’s depth and timbre but it was agonizingly close all the same.
“His head was rather hard, I’m afraid,” Shizuru murmured, sliding the jian into its scabbard and placing it to one side. Turning to face Rebecca, she reached for her glass of alcohol, feeling comforted by having it in hand. “It chipped the wood.”
“You do that a lot, don’t you, Shizuru-san?” said Rebecca and there was a teasing fondness in her words and Shizuru tried to ignore it along with the sparkle in the girl’s eyes that sometimes made the blue look much closer to green. “When you saved me from Hoang you snapped Eikichi’s broom right in half.”
“Madame Tien didn’t purchase a blunt sword for my use here,” said Shizuru slowly, taking a drink and relishing the burn in her throat. “If I didn’t use my scabbard in a few instances I would have killed someone.”
“Shizuru-san!” Rebecca exclaimed and she could hear the shock, feel it in the fingers clinging to her sleeve. Shizuru turned to the girl at her side, who looked at her like she was something much better than what she really was. There were some at the brothel who could see her true self. Feng and Madame Tien were the most obvious but a handful of the workers had always been wary of her and Shizuru wondered if they could see she was a monster or they just sensed it. Either way she was glad some of them had that ability and hoped it kept the others from trying to get too close. Rebecca didn’t seem to pay attention to their warnings though. Not since Shizuru had saved her that day. “You can’t mean that. You wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“I’ve killed many people,” said Shizuru, looking the girl steadily in the eyes, making sure she could see the truth of the matter. “I know Rebecca thinks me to be a hero but I’m hardly that. If anything, I’m a murderer who has been set free.”
“Why did you kill them?” asked Rebecca in a whisper.
She hoped what she said would scare the girl off but Shizuru should have known better. The reason Rebecca was so tempting, so dangerous, were those similarities she had to her Natsuki in both looks and personality. There was a stubbornness to her and when she wanted something, she didn’t give up but dug her heels in, just like Natsuki would have done. Tapping at the edge of the glass, keeping her eyes fixed on the liquid inside, Shizuru murmured, “For revenge. They took my most precious person and so I murdered them.” Lifting her head, Shizuru stared at Rebecca and continued, “I’m not someone to admire. The sooner you learn this, the better. I would advise listening to the other girls, they aren’t trying to lead you astray with their warnings.”
“You know what they say about you?” Rebecca said and she looking strangely admonished to discover this.
“Everything they say is true,” said Shizuru, her gaze returned to the blue fire as she took another drink. There was a quiet rustle and her door slid open again, revealing Beth’s lithe figure. She lifted an eyebrow in silent inquiry and Shizuru shook her head.
“Another day then,” said Beth with a knowing chuckle, slipping back out the door and closing it behind her.
Quickly looking from Shizuru to the closed door and back, Rebecca frowned severely and demanded, “Why did you send her away? Whatever you wanted to do with her I could have joined in. I know there are days when you’ve had more than one—”
“Not with Rebecca, I’ve said this before,” said Shizuru firmly, rising to her feet and closing the door to her balcony. Her glass of blue fire was almost gone and since Beth wouldn’t be sharing her bed thanks to Rebecca’s presence she was preparing for a normal night of sleep. “And I will keep saying it until Rebecca understands I will not be with her in that way.”
“But why? I want to! It isn’t like I prefer men like some of the girls,” said Rebecca plaintively and Shizuru didn’t dare look at her. She was sure the girl was pouting in a seductive manner which would almost be enough to weaken her resolve. Almost but not quite.
The words were on the tip of her tongue. Ones that were harsh and cruel, ones that would make Rebecca see her for what she truly was instead of whatever fantasy the girl had created of her. She could say that just because someone desired her didn’t mean she felt that same desire in return. Imply that Rebecca was too much a child for her to be interested, dismiss her looks as something Shizuru didn’t favor, there were endless things she could say to make the girl hate her. They ran through her head now in a whirlwind and she contemplated saying them but in the end she pushed open her small closet and retrieved a book she had been keeping there for the past week. Turning to face Rebecca with a soft smile and handing it to her.
“A present for Rebecca,” Shizuru answered the question she knew the girl was about to ask. “I suspect this was the book your mother read to you. The one whose protagonist inspired your working name. It’s quite famous in Laudenbach.”
“That’s where he’s from,” said Rebecca quietly, looking at the book in amazement. “Otto Gerste. I’ve always wanted to visit Laudenbach and see all the things he wrote about. The country must be beautiful from the way he describes it.” Lifting up her head suddenly, she questioned, “Where did you get this from? I’ve looked for it ever since mother died, I could never find it.”
“There are a great many people who owe me favors,” said Shizuru and she drank the last of her blue fire. Keeping her back to the girl, she set the glass on the small makeshift bar she created, going to remove her blanket from the closet. “Rebecca should read it to the others. They do love their stories. I’m sure they would appreciate hearing a brand new one.”
“Shizuru-san,” Rebecca said her name reluctantly and Shizuru knew she wanted to stay but Shizuru had to make her go. There was only so much contact she could stand with this girl before the temptation got too strong and she didn’t trust herself anymore. It was all too evident from what happened with Haruka that she wasn’t capable of restraining the monster within and she didn’t want to risk it coming out with this girl who looked so much like her Natsuki. There was a soft and alluring press of full breasts against her back, then a fleeting kiss to her cheek, and that husky voice in her ear saying, “Thank you.”
Then she was alone at last and when she heard the door shut, Shizuru collapsed on the floor, the blanket pooling around her. Head falling low, her hands squeezed into fists, gripping the material tight enough it was ripping under her strength, she told herself again and again that wasn’t her Natsuki. That was Rebecca, that was a poor substitute, that was a girl who still had a measure of innocence left, that was a person who just looked and sounded like the woman she loved.
It wasn’t real. It never would be.
Onto Chapter Four (Part Two)
SERIES: My Otome
AUTHOR: Dreiser
EMAIL: dreiser7@yahoo.com
YAHOO ID: dreiser7
MY WEBSITE: http://www.dreiser.org/
CONTENT: F/F romance. F/F sex. Haruka/Shizuru.
WARNING: Major character deaths, angst, violence, and extreme situations.
SUMMARY: In a single moment of violence, those who matter most to Haruka Armitage and Shizuru Viola are lost. Together they try to restore the broken pieces of their lives and learn to exist without the person they love.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my relief the summer heat is starting to end.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I told you it would take longer! lol. Finally done though.
Fragile Things
By: Dreiser
Four (Part One)
For three weeks Youko kept Haruka in a medically induced coma to heal her most life threatening injuries. By the time she woke the trial was over and Shizuru was gone. Where she went no one could tell her. Just that if it wasn’t for the appearance of Yukino’s former roommate at Windbloom University, Rin Lake, who was a licensed barrister in Windbloom, Shizuru would have gone without any defense at the trial. Rin insisted on representing both Haruka and Shizuru and did a thorough job of it, bringing witness after witness and endless documentation and evidence of Fidelus Altus’ crimes throughout Earl. Showing the members of The Council the death and destruction they had wrought over a hundred year period.
Rin’s stalwart defense on top of the growing public support for the elimination of the notorious terrorist leaders brought the trial to a quick end. The Council settled on two options of punishment, one was to turn over their GEMs and retire as Otome, the other was to have their powers restricted and to be on house arrest, unable to leave the grounds of Garderobe for a year. Unbeknownst to Haruka, her friend had already given the Bewitching Smile Amethyst GEM to Sara.
The moment the trial was over, Shizuru disappeared. Nao tried to follow her at first but Shizuru escaped her observation as she traveled to the distant borders of Zipang. Going into far east countries that were desolate and beyond Garderobe’s influence. They couldn’t tell Haruka where she was or why she left but Haruka had her suspicions. She knew all too well from their months together how Shizuru took the blame onto herself. Haruka was hardly immune to that habit herself, they both shared it when it came to Yukino and Natsuki’s deaths. But it was different with Shizuru. There was something darker attached to her feelings, a tangible self-loathing that Haruka could see turning inwardly violent, leading the brunette to punish herself.
Haruka was grateful to Natsuki for having Shizuru promise not to kill herself. Shizuru spoke of it often in her sleep deprived state, cursing her inability to commit suicide because Natsuki had asked her not to, how she made her promise, and Haruka often thought it was only that promise keeping Shizuru alive. She hoped it would remain that way wherever her friend had gone. The irrational part of her wanted to chase after Shizuru, make sure she was all right, but she couldn’t. Her injuries were still too fresh, her left leg and right arm in a cast, and Haruka had a sinking feeling Shizuru had disappeared because of her.
Because Shizuru blamed herself for Haruka’s injuries, because she no longer felt she should be around Haruka, that she was too dangerous or some other jackass idea the brunette had gotten into her head. Haruka hobbled down the walk of Garderobe, towards her favorite hill that lurked in the shadow of trees, moving slowly on her crutches. She hated being like this. It showed her ineptitude, her weakness, and she hated that Shizuru felt she had to run from her in order to protect her.
They were supposed to help each other but Shizuru was gone and with her absence Haruka lost focus. All her life she had a driving force behind her existence. When she was a child it was living up to her parents expectations, then came her ambition to become an Otome, and after meeting Yukino the desire to share a life with her, to be with her always. When Yukino was killed Haruka lost her drive until she saw Shizuru falling to pieces, going through the same pain as her, but handling it so much worse. Shizuru was her reason for getting up in the morning, to take care of her, to support her, and now Shizuru had left and Haruka didn’t know what she should do. Part of her considered retiring, giving up her GEM and looking for the other woman. It wasn’t as if she would be much good to Garderobe like this. Youko said she had another four months before she’d be fully healed and after that she wouldn’t even be able to leave the school grounds due to her sentence.
Sitting on the hill and dropping the crutches on the ground next to her, Haruka stared at the sun hanging low in the sky. Unbidden, Haruka’s eyes fell to her ring that glinted in the sunlight, barely visible past the edge of her cast. A year had passed since Yukino was taken from her. It didn’t feel like that much time had gone by, the pain was so fresh that it felt as if it happened yesterday, but she knew that was the truth of the matter. Would Yukino still love her? Haruka thought about that sometimes. Yukino was the kindest person that Haruka had ever known but she had always possessed a very clear idea of what was right and wrong. Her actions with Shizuru certainly fell into the category of wrong. She wondered if Yukino could forgive her for all the things she had done during those long months with Shizuru.
Her actions went against everything that Yukino believed in, everything they stood for when they were united as the President and the Continental Orb Topaz of Aries. Morals were important to Yukino. In her more sardonic moments she would say that was the only thing she really had as a politician and if she was to lose them she’d lose herself. Haruka was well aware she had abandoned her own morals in pursuit of those men.
She had never done anything like that before, not even under former President Kenzo Xavier's command, whose wife had died in an attack by Fidelus Altus. Even in the midst of his frantic assault against the terrorist groups who constantly attacked their country, she never aided in plans to murder their leaders. Ones to flush them out, to capture them, to bring them to trial, but never outright murder. He had never ordered her to do anything remotely close but Yukino still disapproved of his actions.
And what she had done with Shizuru, Haruka thought that even Xavier wouldn't have completely approved. That was why she knew Yukino would be disgusted with her.
Haruka had once found solace in the idea of seeing her wife when she died, being reunited with her in the afterlife, but now she almost feared it because of everything she had done. She found herself doubting that Yukino would greet her with a smiling face and a loving touch because she had betrayed all that Yukino stood for. Because she had helped horrible crimes to be carried out in Yukino’s name and she didn’t think that was something that Yukino could forgive.
Running her finger over the surface of her wedding ring, Haruka traced its engraving. She heard the sound of leaves underfoot and looked up to see Sara standing by her side. There were a handful of people that always made Haruka want to smile when she saw them and Sara was among them. Ever since she met the younger blonde at Garderobe she’d felt attached to her. Maybe it was Sara’s intelligence and eagerness or her bright smile but mostly Haruka thought it was because she gave a feeling similar to the one Haruka had when she was with Yukino. It wasn’t the same, they didn’t have that trust, that love, that loyalty, between them but there was something about Sara that reminded Haruka of Yukino and it only served to make her that much dearer to the older Otome. Now it was a melancholy thing to realize. Being with Sara was like experiencing a shadow of Yukino, close but never quite good enough, and it hurt as much as it provided relief.
“Welcome back,” Haruka murmured, squinting up at the younger woman who was bathed in the sunlight. As the 1st Column matters of diplomacy were Sara’s responsibility and as such she was often away. “How was your trip to the whistle lands?”
“Western lands,” corrected Sara with a lilting and humorous affection, sitting next to Haruka on the hill.
Although this was the norm, something Sara often did for her, Haruka flinched because that habit of correcting her verbal follies was such a part of her daily life with Yukino. She didn’t know why she felt strangely sick when Sara did it because Shizuru had corrected her many times during their months together but Shizuru… she could never be confused with Yukino. Their differences were as vast as night and day but Sara had so much in common with Yukino. Having her do such things was almost as if some part of Yukino had returned to her in that moment.
“The trip was successful. King d’Florince VIII has always been among the most reasonable monarchs,” said Sara absently. They lapsed into silence, watching the setting sun, until Haruka felt Sara’s gaze piercing her. She tried to ignore it but found she didn’t have the ability and she slowly turned her attention to the other Otome. “Haruka,” Sara said her name solemnly. “Have you made a decision about which sentence from The Council you’re going to accept?”
Her left hand seemed to move of its own volition, gently pushing up the wire rimmed glasses that slid down Sara’s nose. It was an automatic and natural gesture that Haruka couldn’t seem to control. Ignoring Sara’s question, she voiced one of her own, one that had lingered in the back of her mind ever since she regained consciousness. “Why don’t you call me oneesama anymore?” asked Haruka bluntly, her eyes steady as they met Sara’s, maintaining their connection even as Sara blushed dark red.
“It doesn’t seem right,” Sara muttered, breaking her gaze away from Haruka’s. The blush grew stronger as she stared at the ground, picking at the grass nervously. “We’re both Columns now, colleagues, and I just thought…”
Sara lifted her head and in that moment, in the darkness that was settling in, she reminded Haruka so much of Yukino. There was an aching vulnerability in her expression and it tugged at Haruka’s heart. They were so much alike that it almost hurt but it wasn’t something Haruka would wish different because in this second it was almost like having Yukino with her again. Reaching out with her good hand, she tucked an unruly lock of hair behind Sara’s ear. Her hair and eyes, they were too light compared to Yukino’s, but they were so very close and Haruka was captivated by the similarities.
“It’s fine,” said Haruka, her voice thick with emotion. Her fingertips spread out to caress Sara’s cheek and a wisp of a smile formed on her features. “We’ve been equals for a long time. It’s good you finally figured that out.”
The other Column blushed again and it was there again, that echo of Yukino, and it soothed Haruka, relaxing her in its familiarity and she found her hand falling down, entwining her fingers with Sara’s. Turning to look into the forest, aware they would have to go inside before it became too dark, Haruka thought it was strange to hear Sara say her name without the oneesama attached. Maybe it was the way it was said, with a barely contained excitement and anxiety. Almost as if Sara couldn’t quite believe she was addressing Haruka that way and it made the blonde wonder why that was. It wasn’t as if saying her name was any sort of major event but it appeared to be that way for Sara. Her gaze drifted back to her companion who was looking into the distance, unaware of Haruka’s attention, and she recalled what Shizuru often said about her.
That Sara had feelings for her, that Sara wanted to be with her, that Sara desired her. Haruka denied the possibility for years, accounting Sara’s behavior to the simple crush that all underclassmen have for their sempai but now she wondered if Shizuru was right. In the past the idea would have caused her to panic because she never wanted anyone to entertain ideas that would even suggest taking her from Yukino’s side. Her life was with Yukino and her love belonged to her alone but now Yukino was dead and Haruka didn’t know how to go on without her. The purpose she always had since she was a child disappeared with Yukino’s passing and Haruka didn’t have any clue how to regain it.
“What should I do?” Haruka said this without even realizing it and Sara looked to her, startled by the doubt lacing her words. “Ever since I was little being an Otome was all I wanted but I don’t know anymore… what I did, it’s not something an Otome would do. And Yukino would hate me for it. I know she would.”
“Haruka,” Sara said her name in a hush, looking at her with wide and sympathetic eyes.
“I don’t deserve to be a Column,” said Haruka harshly, her self-disgust evident. She tugged her good hand away from Sara’s and clenched it into a fist, resting it on her thigh as she stared into the forest. “I’m a disgrace.”
“No,” said Sara fiercely and her fingers pressed into the skin of Haruka’s jaw, turning her head until their eyes met. She had that tenacious expression that she had worn so many times in the past and it almost made Haruka smile to see it again. For some odd reason she had always found it charming on Sara’s features. “Maybe what you did, they weren’t the actions of a Column, but you are one, Haruka, and you deserve to be one. Fumi-sama chose you for a reason, don’t forget that.”
“She made a mistake,” Haruka retorted, jerking her face away from Sara’s touch, disturbed by the comfort it provided.
“The Founder doesn’t make mistakes,” said Sara with a frown. Haruka snorted in response and Sara studied the older woman, considering how she should respond. This was a new side to Haruka, one that she had never encountered before, and as much as it saddened her to see Haruka this way it provided a strange thrill. Discovering something new about the person she had always cared for but kept a proprietary distance from for so many years. “If you really think what you did is so horrible then why not do something to make up for it? Focus on that instead of feeling sorry for yourself.”
Sara had seen Haruka angry countless times throughout the years, the older Otome had never been someone to repress her emotions, but Sara had never seen her look like this before. “My wife is dead,” the words seemed to be ripped from Haruka more than said and her features were consumed by grief. “She was murdered and I couldn’t save her. I should’ve saved her. I always saved her before but I failed and she’s dead. The only woman I’ve ever loved is gone. I was with her for nineteen years and you think I’m feeling sorry for myself?” Haruka moved forward suddenly, her good hand reaching out to Sara like a claw but she stopped suddenly, clenching it into a fist and pounding it onto the ground in between them. “You don’t know anything!”
“Then explain it to me,” said Sara quietly.
It was silent except for Haruka’s harsh breathing and the sound of leaves blowing in the wind. Haruka stared at the ground, laughing again, broken in her despair, and muttered, “I’m not smart enough to understand it.”
“You’re doing it again,” Sara accused lightly and Haruka chuckled, shaking her head, her fingers digging into the ground and Sara sighed, watching her. Reaching for Haruka’s hand, she rose to her feet and tugged gently on it. “Come on,” she murmured. “We should go inside. I’ll make you dinner.”
“Sara Gallagher,” Haruka said her name like she used to, a calming verbal caress that caused Sara to blush at the sound. She lifted her head, looking up with an expression that seemed to plead for an answer. “What should I do?”
Surrendering to temptation, Sara touched Haruka’s cheek, marveling at how soft her skin was. Haruka seemed almost invulnerable in battle in some strange way. How she could take so much damage, withstand so many injuries, and get right back up and return to the fight. The fact she had survived Shizuru’s attack on her was nothing short of miraculous and Sara wasn’t sure any other Otome could have done it. Because of those battles she almost expected Haruka to be hard to the touch, rough somehow, like some physical representation of the tolerance she built up over the years. Instead her skin was smooth and warm and Sara felt herself grow hot as the contact continued.
Shaking her head, trying to get her wits about her, Sara met Haruka’s eyes and murmured, “I can’t tell you that.” It was so strange, having this conversation with Haruka Armitage who was once the portrait of self-assurance, forever confident of her path in life. To question others about it, to ask them what she should do, it wasn’t like Haruka in the least and only served to increase Sara’s worry for her. “I will say that we need help here at Garderobe. Miss Maria has her hands full as the interim Principal and Yukariko is working overtime since she had to take over all of her classes.”
“Fighting Tactics and Close Quarters Combat,” said Haruka, a thoughtful look emerging on her features.
“You were Miss Maria’s favorite student, weren’t you?” Sara said in recollection.
“Ask her,” Haruka mumbled, slightly embarrassed but allowing Sara to help her to her feet, watching as the younger woman reached for her crutches. Taking them from Sara and settling them under her arms, she gingerly moved onto the walkway. Haruka mulled over everything that had been said and she knew Sara was right. She was feeling sorry for herself but she couldn’t seem to help it. Yukino’s death absorbed her during every second of the day and she wondered if it had been this bad when she with Shizuru, completing their mission. Probably not, because she had something to focus on. Maybe if she remained a Column, taught Miss Maria’s classes, and immersed herself in training to aid in her recovery it could provide a temporary escape from the misery of Yukino’s death if only for a few hours a day. “I’ll teach them,” said Haruka firmly.
“Good,” said Sara with a subdued happiness. She was afraid to show too much joy at this decision, unsure how Haruka would react. But a smile still formed on her features as they made their way into building where the staff living quarters were located. Pulling open the door for Haruka who grunted in thanks, her smile grew a little bit wider. Following after Haruka, letting it bang shut, Sara wasn’t aware of the bounce in her step as she moved to the other Column’s side. “What do you want to eat?”
Their conversation was so every day, so inane, as they made their way to Haruka’s newly assigned quarters that Sara could almost forget how much had changed. That this was the same woman she had looked up to as a Coral in Garderobe but seeing the dark circles under Haruka’s eyes and the subtle tightness in her jaw, she knew that wasn’t the truth. The Haruka from then couldn’t return, too much had happened, but someone happier, more stable, would be eventually emerging if Sara had anything to say about it. Someone who, hopefully, might learn to let go of her wife’s death and move on with her life. That was someone Sara was more than willing to wait for. Even if a small voice in her head told her she was a fool for doing so.
—-
Quang Bihn was a small but heavily populated country. It was called the crossroads to the east because of the train line that traveled through the entire length of the nation. A significant portion of its citizens lived in poverty and country’s economy relied almost entirely on those traveling through its borders. Shizuru had been here many times throughout her years as a Column and she knew it would be the perfect place to disappear from Nao’s persistent tracking. Travelers were a dime a dozen in Quang Bihn and its people had developed a certain apathy which kept them at a permanent disinterest. They wouldn’t give her a second glance and they wouldn’t ask questions. She could lose herself in the crowd and no one would be the wiser.
She had been here for just a week when she found herself at the Ve Dem brothel. Prostitution was legal in Quang Bihn and was an unfortunate source of money for most of its women. Shizuru was familiar with this brothel, having noticed it in her travels through the country. She had teased Natsuki about going inside it during a trip they took together. In her mind’s eye she could still see Natsuki’s blush and hear her stammer. While prostitution was illegal in Windbloom, there was still a certain sexual freedom there that was lacking in Natsuki's homeland. And so Shizuru always enjoyed teasing her lover about such matters, like visiting a brothel. She couldn't help herself, Natsuki was always so adorable when embarrassed. Drawn by this memory and wanting some sort of companionship, Shizuru finally went inside.
Soon she was spending more time in the brothel than the room she was renting. The food and drink that came with her time at the brothel weren’t cheap but it wasn’t like Shizuru came from a poor family. She had more than enough money and being there, being with these women, helped to drown out the sorrow of Natsuki’s death. It also helped that she was keeping herself in a state of near constant intoxication. When her mind was blurry, unable to focus, she couldn’t see the wreckage of that car, and imagine her Natsuki burning inside of it. When she was drunk the loss didn’t hurt as much and she could forget how alone she was in the world. It was a slow death she was putting herself through, Shizuru knew that, but what did she have to live for?
Shizuru was well aware she was favored by the brothel workers. Women customers were a rare commodity, particularly wealthy ones who tipped well and liked to give as well as receive pleasure. She heard them speak about her in whispers when they thought her passed out from the alcohol. Wondering where she came from, how she came upon so much money, and remarking with barely contained sly intent of her beauty and skill in bed. Her proud nature found a small bit of pleasure in this and the way the women scrambled when she arrived, instantly full of smiles and charms as they invited her to share their beds. Shizuru knew it had little to do with her but instead what she represented but it hardly mattered. When she was with these women she wasn’t alone and when she had sex with them the physical pleasure distracted from her emotional pain.
In those moments, absorbed in their touch, smell, and taste, her mind foggy from alcohol Shizuru briefly knew what it was to be happy again. But the feeling would always fade and she would recognize how hollow it all was. It wasn’t true happiness, just an illusion, a trick of her body trying to fool her mind. In the end she would always return to the reality that was Natsuki’s death and the fact that no matter how beautiful and sexually talented any of these women were no one made her feel like Natsuki. No one could touch her the way that Natsuki did and when she did recall this, she was numb from the desolation it wrought.
There was a girl at the brothel, barely nineteen, who reminded Shizuru desperately of Natsuki. Her hair was the same shade, just cut shorter, and her eyes were just as bright and determined except they were blue instead of green. There had more in common than they shared in differences and most of all there was an atmosphere about her that was so like Natsuki. She had a stubbornness to her and a quiet but caring nature though she tried to act as hardened as her colleagues.
Rebecca.
Whenever Shizuru arrived at the brothel she made sure Madame Tien, its proprietor, knew Rebecca was the one worker she couldn’t be placed with. Just the idea of being with her was too horrible, too tempting, the alcohol already addled her mind, allowing her to forget her misery and if she was with Rebecca and she was drunk enough she might be able to pretend it was her Natsuki. That she never died, that she was with her again, only to wake up sober enough in the morning to know otherwise. The pain of just imagining such a thing was enough to keep Shizuru far from the girl.
While she managed to stay away from the girl at the brothel, Shizuru couldn't ignore the scene before her. In the crowded market place near Ve Dem, she saw Rebecca in the midst of an argument with a man she recognized as one of the girl's regulars. His fingers were wrapped around her arm and he was dragging her through the crowd as she struggled against his grip. There were some onlookers, mostly travelers to the region, but the citizens turned a blind eye to the incident. Shizuru watched Rebecca struggle against him, scratching at his arms, watched as he turned and struck her, sending her toppling to the ground. Watched her cry out with a face so much like Natsuki’s and suddenly Shizuru couldn’t watch any longer. Striding through the market place, she grabbed a broom from a nearby shopkeeper.
Those eyes, blue not green, looked at her with disbelief and Shizuru knew why this was. Sometimes Rebecca would come to talk to whoever she was with for the night when they thought she was passed out. She’d speculate why Shizuru never asked for her, wondering if she’d insulted her somehow, wishing for a client she considered to be as nice as the brunette woman. It created a guilt in her, hearing Rebecca say these things, but Shizuru couldn’t risk it, being with this girl, letting herself forget, letting herself imagine Natsuki was with her again only to lose her all over again. It would destroy her, she knew that. But all the same she couldn’t let this go on, allow this girl who looked like her Natsuki to be abused right before her eyes.
The man’s hands were on her again, holding her far too tight when Shizuru tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at her with irritation and anger, demanding what she wanted and Shizuru shifted the broom in her hand, noting that the brothel wasn’t that far away. Close enough that Rebecca could easily run to safety once she had taken care of him. It was late in the afternoon and Shizuru had just woken up, she hadn’t really begun drinking yet, just one glass so far, enough to take away the pounding in her head and remove the slight shake in her hands. Enough to make her slightly foggy but still retain most of her reflexes.
“Release her,” Shizuru said, her voice silky, but the underlined threat was all too evident.
“Or what?” the man demanded with derision and just for good measure, he yanked Rebecca to her feet, squeezing her arm tightly and causing the girl to release a whimper of pain.
“Or I hurt you,” murmured Shizuru and all he could do was release a snort of laughter before she spun the broom in her hand, turning it so the handle was facing him. Then with a hard and fast strike to his stomach he was on his knees, releasing his hold on Rebecca. Keeping her eyes on him, she told the girl, “Return to the brothel.”
Whether the girl left right away, Shizuru didn’t know, she was focused on the man who was trying to get to his feet but she hit him again, a controlled blow to his face that managed to crack his jaw. He screamed and cursed at her, attempting to rise but she continued her attack until he was crumpled on the ground in a fetal position and the broom was snapped in half from her efforts. When it was over the normally hectic market place was eerily silent and Shizuru stared at the man, lying in a pool of his own blood but still alive and breathing. She wondered if it was the alcohol that kept her in a fog which prevented her from seeing red. Or maybe it was the fact she didn’t attack him for Natsuki and that was why the veil of rage never fell over her eyes.
Regarding the broken broom, Shizuru sighed and returned to the shopkeeper, digging through her pockets to present him with several coins. “To replace it,” she murmured, handing over the broom. The one sided battle ended and the witnesses reluctant to discuss the details heralded police arrival onto the scene. They made half hearted attempts to discover what occurred and Shizuru ignored them, continuing to the brothel where she was met by the figure of Madame Tien.
“That was a thing of beauty, my dear,” Madame Tien drawled, her elegant cigarette holder resting in between the tips of her fingers. She was standing in the grand entrance to the brothel and Shizuru noted the figure of Rebecca huddled amongst the other workers. “Hoang has been troublesome lately. Thinks he has rights to my girls because he pays for an hour or two of their time. It was good of you to show him otherwise. I did enjoy how fitting it was to rid Rebecca of that garbage using a broom.”
“Does it earn me a lower rate?” Shizuru inquired, not really wanting or needing one, but despising the sense that this woman might think she was a decent person now. Someone to believe in and rely on, someone that she could never be again.
“I’ll give you free drinks for the day,” countered Madame Tien, ashing her cigarette and arching an eyebrow. “Which is far too generous of me considering how much you can drink, Shizuru-san.”
Rolling her eyes at this, Shizuru shifted her stance and looked into the brothel, trying to decide who she wanted to share her temporary bastion of free alcohol with. As she did this, she noted the Madame watching her and with feigned boredom Shizuru turned to the older woman and asked, “Is there something else?”
“I have an unfortunate number of customers who are like Hoang,” Madam Tien began smoothly. “They often treat my girls far more roughly than I would like and try to rob me of my money and goods. I do have Feng to help with some of these incidents but as our chef it isn’t his area of expertise. You, however, seem to have a natural talent, shall we say?”
“And?” Shizuru prompted, her eyes narrowing.
“And I wonder if you would consider working for me,” said Madame Tien, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Protect my girls from men like Hoang. I could offer you a decent wage along with free room and board and regular meals. However,” Madame Tien had a droll tone to her voice and a knowing look in her gaze. “Your drinking is too regular for it to come free. The same as your visits to my girls. If I were to give those away to someone with your appetites it would reduce my profits greatly.”
Her first instinct was to refuse but as her gaze drifted over the brothel workers it landed on Rebecca, looking at her with eyes shining with gratitude, and it was so close to her Natsuki that Shizuru felt a flicker of joy in her heart. She couldn’t ever be with Rebecca like she was the others but being near her was a very appealing prospect. The room she rented was nearly always empty as she spent almost all her time at the brothel anyway so living there would be more convenient. And perhaps this would provide a distraction, something besides the alcohol to keep her mind from drifting to the reality of Natsuki’s death.
Shifting her attention to Madame Tien who watched her with expectant and lidded eyes, Shizuru stated, “I want a discount.”
“Fifteen percent off drink and ten for the girls but I expect you to tip them as generously as in the past,” said Madame Tien firmly, her kimono sweeping as she turned and walked into her establishment. “Welcome to our family, Shizuru-san,” she seemed to purr the words, looking over her shoulder, a slow smile spreading on her features. “We’re glad to have you.”
Dipping her head in response, Shizuru thought absently that she would need to purchase a weapon for this new job. Chuckling as the workers swarmed her, hanging on her arms and kissing her in thanks, she contemplated getting Madame Tien to buy one for her. It was a work related expense, after all.
—-
Two weeks had gone by since she took the job as protector of Madame Tien’s brothel and in that time she had fallen into a comfortable routine. She slept the morning and early afternoon away, patrolled the brothel in the late afternoon and evening, taking a break only to share her dinner with whatever brothel workers were free. Long into the night was when she retired to her room where she would spend an hour cleaning her jian, a local type of sword which had been provided by Madame Tien for her work. Her bed was shared with one or sometimes two of the brother workers, whomever was eager to spend time with her.
As long as they weren’t Rebecca, that is. No matter how much the girl flirted with her, hinted at her desire, Shizuru rebuffed her advances and had even gone so far as to get her fellow workers to let her know she wasn’t interested. Sitting in the doorway of her small balcony that overlooked the city, Shizuru lay the sword on her lap. Lightly tapping powder onto the blade, she began to gently rub rice paper in a horizontal path down the jian. Cleaning the weapon was an oddly relaxing process that left Shizuru’s mind gratefully free of thought. Especially when she was on her second glass of blue fire. It was a favorite drink of hers. Blue Fire was a distilled beverage named for its color and the burning sensation it left on a person’s tongue upon consumption. Whenever she had it Shizuru felt a fog fall over her mind that much quicker.
The powder removed, Shizuru was reaching for a small bottle of oil when the door to her small room slid open. Looking up, Shizuru’s lips curled into a smile on seeing Lydia’s curvaceous figure. “I thought you said you wouldn’t have time for me,” she said in a playful accusation, leaning back against the wall and applying a few drops of oil onto a clean sheet of rice paper. “My heart nearly shattered from sadness when you said such a thing. I do so cherish our time together.”
Chuckling in response, Lydia sat next to Shizuru, resting her head on her shoulder and watching as the brunette spread the oil evenly over the surface of the sword. “Pretending with me is a waste, Shizuru-san,” Lydia said, toying with Shizuru’s kimono and pulling it away from her neck, her breath hot on Shizuru’s skin. “None of us are special to you.”
“That isn’t true,” Shizuru murmured, keeping her eyes focused on her jian, concentrating on finishing the cleaning ritual. “If anything I would say that I love all of you the same. Which means all of you are special to me. I do protect you, don’t I?”
“That’s your job,” pointed out Lydia, taking the sword from Shizuru and sliding it into the scabbard. Turning to the brunette who regarded her with a lidded gaze, Lydia smiled and hiked up her dress, settling herself onto Shizuru’s lap. Wrapping her arms around Shizuru’s neck, she leaned forward, putting their lips just a breath apart. “Rebecca’s the only one you’ve ever saved when you weren’t being paid to which I think makes her a little more special than the rest of us.”
Instead of replying, Shizuru pulled Lydia forward in a smooth movement, their breasts pressing together as she seized the other woman’s lips in a rough kiss. When they parted several minutes later, Lydia chuckled again and questioned Shizuru on the amount of drinks she had consumed. “Two blue fires,” Shizuru said carelessly, reaching for her glass and pouring more of the liquid in so she could begin her third. “Hardly anything out of the ordinary.”
“Maybe for you,” Lydia said with dry humor, untying Shizuru’s obi in an easy and practiced gesture. “I notice you’re ignoring my remark about Rebecca being special. I’m not the only one who thinks it, you know. Even Rebecca does. Although she’s not too happy about it because apparently being special means not getting to share your bed.”
“She makes a good enough wage without my money lining her pockets,” Shizuru responded sardonically, taking a long drink of the blue fire and relishing the burn in her throat. Though the feeling was far from pleasant she strangely enjoyed it because she could use it to track her state of inebriation. The less it burned the foggier she became and the easier it was to forget losing her Natsuki. Allowing herself to be swept up in the momentary pleasure of another woman’s embrace instead of comparing them to her deceased lover only to find them always lacking. “What does she have to complain about?”
“Now, now,” Lydia chastised, pushing open the kimono and smiling at what it revealed, her hands sliding over Shizuru’s hips and up her sides. “You shouldn’t play dumb, it’s so unlike you. I’m sure you know what that poor girl wants.”
“And why should I entertain her infatuation?” questioned Shizuru in glib tones, watching with veiled interest as Lydia’s hands moved over her breasts and toyed with her nipples. The alcohol had created a hint of that separation she enjoyed, where her mind was distant from her body, and her thoughts because addled and blurred but it wasn’t enough that she couldn’t relish the caress of another woman. Especially when they were as skilled as Lydia. “She’s a girl. I prefer women.”
Smirking at this, Lydia slid upwards, kissing Shizuru hard. Out of all the women she had slept with in the brothel, Shizuru thought Lydia was the best at kissing. Perhaps it was because she enjoyed it so much but hardly ever did it. The workers almost never kissed their clients and Shizuru had known from the start she was an exception. She never asked why she was but she imagined it was the same reason they liked to flirt with her and babied her from time to time. Treating her like she was something far less dangerous than what she was. They saw something sad and sympathetic in her rather than the monster in hiding.
There were moments when Shizuru hated this deception. No matter what society thought of these women, the lack of value placed on their lives, they were good people and they deserved a better protector than her. Someone who wasn’t twisted, someone who didn’t leave destruction in her wake. She considered leaving. Wondered why she had accepted the job from Madame Tien. Why she was letting these women try and get close to her. They never would though, she couldn’t let that happen, not after what she did to Haruka. She was the only person Shizuru let close enough to see the monster within, a monster not even Natsuki had fully witnessed because just being with Natsuki controlled it, kept it at some sort of peace. Shizuru let Haruka see it though. She didn't hide anything from Haruka because Haruka understood and that intimacy almost killed her.
She almost killed her.
Lydia’s hands were hot on her skin, pushing the kimono off her shoulders and maneuvering her onto the futon. It was different, allowing herself to be led along but it happened often since she arrived at this brothel. Whenever she was with her Natsuki she was swept up in her desire, consumed by it and by the need to possess Natsuki. While she found all the workers at the brothel very attractive she didn’t have the same feelings for them. Their touch wasn’t something she yearned for, instead it was an undeserved comfort, a pleasant distraction, and it gave her a few rare moments of solace. That was why she let the women she was with determine the pace of their encounters, let them deem what they were comfortable with, instead of citing her demands.
Certainly this was a large reason why she quickly became a favorite at the brothel. That and her habit of leaving sizeable tips. The kimono slid off her body, a whisper of rustling fabric, and Lydia was naked now, lowering her body so skin met skin and her head dipped down, kissing Shizuru’s breasts in gesture that was almost reverent. Just the top of Lydia’s head, that was all that Shizuru could see of her, and her hair was dark blonde… almost brown… lighter than Natsuki’s but darker than Haruka’s.
This was good, this touch, this sensation, this wet suck of those lips around her nipples, but it wasn’t her Natsuki and something in Shizuru wondered would it be like if it was Haruka. Would she touch her like Natsuki? No, that wasn’t right. No one could do that. Not even Haruka who understood and accepted her, mad and selfish as she was. Haruka would touch her as only Haruka could. She imagined it would be similar to how she was in battle, painfully open and eager, her smile burning bright like the sun.
It was far too tempting, imagining such things, and Shizuru forced herself to focus on the present, watching as Lydia slid down her body, nudging her thighs apart with expertise. This was all she could have, this temporary respite, nothing permanent, nothing that brought a real and true happiness like she had with her Natsuki. There was just the here and the now, the fleeting joy of her orgasm sweeping over her, drawn out by the talent of Lydia’s tongue and fingers.
Before she was with Natsuki she didn’t know sex could be special, could be more than pleasure, could be something that involved emotions and your mind far more than your body. Those days were gone though. What she had with these women it was only her body, her mind was somewhere else entirely, and her heart was with her Natsuki always. Shizuru didn’t think she would ever feel a love like that again.
Now it was over and she was back where she started. Her heart buried away, those things Natsuki taught her, all those emotions she experienced in their time together were locked up, safe where they couldn’t torment her and Shizuru was left to these hollow comforts. Drowning herself in the embrace of these women who she could never love and could never love her but they could make her body feel good and they could make her mind forget and that was enough to numb her heart.
—-
Rage was something that Shizuru understood all too well. She was certain she reflected it when she beat these men. The ones who took pleasure in the pain of others and thought the acceptable place to take this belief was to a brothel. Shizuru thought it was true, more or less, with other brothels, other owners, but Madame Tien had an strange protectiveness over those who worked for her. Such as abiding to their preferences in gender and sexual proclivities and sometimes even looks.
Madame Tien hired her to protect them from men like the one standing before her, gripping a bronze statue that Shizuru knew he had plans to assault her with. Assault her like he had tried to do with Beth but Shizuru had taught them well. Beth had used those lessons Shizuru gave them in the late afternoon to fend him off as she screamed for help. Now here they were, Shizuru facing the man whose rage she understood, who flew at her with that statue, trying to bash her head in.
The jian hung loosely at her side, tied onto her obi, and Shizuru removed the sword from her belt, scabbard and all. Sidestepping the man’s attack, she slid the jian from the scabbard and extended her foot. This caused him to fall face forward and she took the opportunity to hit him hard in the back of the neck with her heavy wooden scabbard. He fell unconscious to the floor with a loud thud and Shizuru stared at him impassively, sliding her sword back into the scabbard which she noted was chipped from the blow with his head. More workers gathered at the door and she instructed them to get Feng to dump him outside the property where the thieves would most likely pick him over.
Walking from the room, Shizuru couldn’t help but smile as she heard Beth cursing at him and the sound of several solid kicks. When she was eating a very late dinner the redhead came to thank her, noting it had been a few weeks since she spent the night with Shizuru. As she watched her walk away, an alluring swing to her hips Shizuru wondered why anyone would want to hurt someone that beautiful. Shizuru didn’t know why but she understood that look in his eyes, that one of absolute fury and madness, beyond hope and reason. It was one she had worn for countless months as she killed those men.
The rest of her shift passed without event, perhaps those who would have caused trouble were scared by her defeat of the man which had been so quick and easy that to Shizuru it was akin to swatting a fly. Sitting on her balcony, she drank her third glass of blue fire slowly, knowing if she drank too much she would become absorbed in the memories of her Natsuki but if she didn’t have enough her mind would be clear enough to focus on the pain of her loss, and the guilt of her actions. Shizuru had become an expert when it came to her own inebriation, how drunk she could be and still do her job, protecting these women, but still be unable to think completely clearly, enough that she couldn’t contemplate the misery of a life without Natsuki.
If Beth didn’t come to her room soon she would have to stop drinking. Four blue fires were as far as she could go before she would become melancholy and begin to imagine Natsuki was with her again, hear whispers of her in her mind. Shizuru’s eyes fell to her scabbard lying in her lap, taking a slow drink of the blue fire. A small frown tugged at her lips as she ran her fingers over the chipped wood. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her, this cheap scabbard being damaged, but it did and it made her want to bash the man who had caused the damage on the head with it again.
Maybe it was the drink or her irrational anger about the scabbard being damaged but Shizuru never heard the door to her room slide open and didn’t notice Rebecca’s presence until she was hovering at her side, looking at the scabbard. “Did he break it?” her voice was in Shizuru’s ear, low and husky. It lacked Natsuki’s depth and timbre but it was agonizingly close all the same.
“His head was rather hard, I’m afraid,” Shizuru murmured, sliding the jian into its scabbard and placing it to one side. Turning to face Rebecca, she reached for her glass of alcohol, feeling comforted by having it in hand. “It chipped the wood.”
“You do that a lot, don’t you, Shizuru-san?” said Rebecca and there was a teasing fondness in her words and Shizuru tried to ignore it along with the sparkle in the girl’s eyes that sometimes made the blue look much closer to green. “When you saved me from Hoang you snapped Eikichi’s broom right in half.”
“Madame Tien didn’t purchase a blunt sword for my use here,” said Shizuru slowly, taking a drink and relishing the burn in her throat. “If I didn’t use my scabbard in a few instances I would have killed someone.”
“Shizuru-san!” Rebecca exclaimed and she could hear the shock, feel it in the fingers clinging to her sleeve. Shizuru turned to the girl at her side, who looked at her like she was something much better than what she really was. There were some at the brothel who could see her true self. Feng and Madame Tien were the most obvious but a handful of the workers had always been wary of her and Shizuru wondered if they could see she was a monster or they just sensed it. Either way she was glad some of them had that ability and hoped it kept the others from trying to get too close. Rebecca didn’t seem to pay attention to their warnings though. Not since Shizuru had saved her that day. “You can’t mean that. You wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“I’ve killed many people,” said Shizuru, looking the girl steadily in the eyes, making sure she could see the truth of the matter. “I know Rebecca thinks me to be a hero but I’m hardly that. If anything, I’m a murderer who has been set free.”
“Why did you kill them?” asked Rebecca in a whisper.
She hoped what she said would scare the girl off but Shizuru should have known better. The reason Rebecca was so tempting, so dangerous, were those similarities she had to her Natsuki in both looks and personality. There was a stubbornness to her and when she wanted something, she didn’t give up but dug her heels in, just like Natsuki would have done. Tapping at the edge of the glass, keeping her eyes fixed on the liquid inside, Shizuru murmured, “For revenge. They took my most precious person and so I murdered them.” Lifting her head, Shizuru stared at Rebecca and continued, “I’m not someone to admire. The sooner you learn this, the better. I would advise listening to the other girls, they aren’t trying to lead you astray with their warnings.”
“You know what they say about you?” Rebecca said and she looking strangely admonished to discover this.
“Everything they say is true,” said Shizuru, her gaze returned to the blue fire as she took another drink. There was a quiet rustle and her door slid open again, revealing Beth’s lithe figure. She lifted an eyebrow in silent inquiry and Shizuru shook her head.
“Another day then,” said Beth with a knowing chuckle, slipping back out the door and closing it behind her.
Quickly looking from Shizuru to the closed door and back, Rebecca frowned severely and demanded, “Why did you send her away? Whatever you wanted to do with her I could have joined in. I know there are days when you’ve had more than one—”
“Not with Rebecca, I’ve said this before,” said Shizuru firmly, rising to her feet and closing the door to her balcony. Her glass of blue fire was almost gone and since Beth wouldn’t be sharing her bed thanks to Rebecca’s presence she was preparing for a normal night of sleep. “And I will keep saying it until Rebecca understands I will not be with her in that way.”
“But why? I want to! It isn’t like I prefer men like some of the girls,” said Rebecca plaintively and Shizuru didn’t dare look at her. She was sure the girl was pouting in a seductive manner which would almost be enough to weaken her resolve. Almost but not quite.
The words were on the tip of her tongue. Ones that were harsh and cruel, ones that would make Rebecca see her for what she truly was instead of whatever fantasy the girl had created of her. She could say that just because someone desired her didn’t mean she felt that same desire in return. Imply that Rebecca was too much a child for her to be interested, dismiss her looks as something Shizuru didn’t favor, there were endless things she could say to make the girl hate her. They ran through her head now in a whirlwind and she contemplated saying them but in the end she pushed open her small closet and retrieved a book she had been keeping there for the past week. Turning to face Rebecca with a soft smile and handing it to her.
“A present for Rebecca,” Shizuru answered the question she knew the girl was about to ask. “I suspect this was the book your mother read to you. The one whose protagonist inspired your working name. It’s quite famous in Laudenbach.”
“That’s where he’s from,” said Rebecca quietly, looking at the book in amazement. “Otto Gerste. I’ve always wanted to visit Laudenbach and see all the things he wrote about. The country must be beautiful from the way he describes it.” Lifting up her head suddenly, she questioned, “Where did you get this from? I’ve looked for it ever since mother died, I could never find it.”
“There are a great many people who owe me favors,” said Shizuru and she drank the last of her blue fire. Keeping her back to the girl, she set the glass on the small makeshift bar she created, going to remove her blanket from the closet. “Rebecca should read it to the others. They do love their stories. I’m sure they would appreciate hearing a brand new one.”
“Shizuru-san,” Rebecca said her name reluctantly and Shizuru knew she wanted to stay but Shizuru had to make her go. There was only so much contact she could stand with this girl before the temptation got too strong and she didn’t trust herself anymore. It was all too evident from what happened with Haruka that she wasn’t capable of restraining the monster within and she didn’t want to risk it coming out with this girl who looked so much like her Natsuki. There was a soft and alluring press of full breasts against her back, then a fleeting kiss to her cheek, and that husky voice in her ear saying, “Thank you.”
Then she was alone at last and when she heard the door shut, Shizuru collapsed on the floor, the blanket pooling around her. Head falling low, her hands squeezed into fists, gripping the material tight enough it was ripping under her strength, she told herself again and again that wasn’t her Natsuki. That was Rebecca, that was a poor substitute, that was a girl who still had a measure of innocence left, that was a person who just looked and sounded like the woman she loved.
It wasn’t real. It never would be.
Onto Chapter Four (Part Two)
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