Samurai Deeper Kyo Fan Fiction ❯ Wicked Ground ❯ Uninvited ( Chapter 3 )

Yuya turned the stove off, glancing at the thick soup she had made. It looked very disgusting, as did almost every other food that was presented to her. She sighed, dumping the chowder down the garbage disposal with a muttered, “Bon voyage.”

She decided to stick with coffee –at least she could get that down without wanting to vomit. Pouring herself some coffee into a mug (which had a blood-stained Hello Kitty that said ‘I Hate Cartoons’) she found herself remembering Kyo. Mostly, she remembered how calm he’d looked when she had first entered the ward: his uneven hair that hung around a perfect, flawless face; those cupid bow lips that Yuya had only seen duplicated on Kyoshiro; the tall, slightly muscled body sprawled so nonchalantly over cotton sheets.

He’d look so good draped over my sheets, she thought. She then shook herself, surprised and disgusted at her thoughts. She put the coffee pot down, haunted by the realization that she had just been lusting over her client! Her very annoying, uncouth client, at that.

She made her way to the living room, the slap of her feet muted due to her thick, fuzzy socks. She sipped her coffee and plopped down on the over-stuffed, black leather sofa. She was about to pick up the personal and legal records on Kyo Mibu that she had been studying when there was a knock on the front door. Yuya jumped, nearly spilling coffee down the front of her green tee shirt.

Putting the coffee down, she slowly pulled herself up, grabbing the bat she kept by the door just incase the shit was about to hit the fan. She put her fingers on the doorknob, an ancient-looking iron fixture, before a voice chided her, “Use the peep-hole, dumbass! That’s what it’s there for!”

She glanced out of the small, round glass-covered hole and saw Kyoshiro; he looked haggard and rumpled. Opening the door and dropping the bat, Yuya exclaimed, “Kyoshiro, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Kyoshiro stumbled in, running a hand through his hair and making a beeline for the sofa. “Oh god am I drunk,” he moaned, collapsing onto the couch with a soft ‘ummph.’ “I just wanted to see you. I saw your light on and thought, well, why not?”

Yuya was only following him halfway, not really sure what he was blabbering about. She closed the door and locked it, purely out of habit. “Why were you out drinking, Kyoshiro? Won’t Sakuya be worried?”

Kyoshiro scoffed. “She’s the reason I’m out here. We got into a fight… over you.”

“Over me?” Yuya repeated, looking flabbergasted as she strode over to him. “What? Why? Did she not think I was professional enough? Oh God, I knew I should have put on that dress suit and risked being late!” ((A/N: If you all don’t remember, Yuya came to meet her client, Kyo, and Sakuya wearing a pair of jeans and tee shirt… not very professional, I’m afraid))

Kyoshiro laughed dryly. “Yuya, that wasn’t it. She put two and two together. She realized I had an affair with you. She recognized your perfume –said she’d smelt it on my clothes before. Plus, just look at you. Any wife would be suspicious and jealous.”

Yuya sighed, shifting her weight to her left foot. “Are you sure you should be here, Kyoshiro? I mean, I don’t want to cause any more shi-”

Kyoshiro reached up, grabbing Yuya around her waist. With a slight tug, Yuya was on top of him. Yuya yelped in surprise, her hands going to his chest, pushing him back. He was infinitely stronger, though, and his lips were soon covering hers. Those full, amazingly tender lips of his… Yuya hadn’t felt them in close to a year and that was much too long to be deprived. He had to be one of the best kissers she had ever encountered, and she had encountered many.

It was once again evident to Yuya how their affair was able to last so long. They both had something the other wanted –with Kyoshiro, it was sex. With Yuya, it was comfort, a feeling of belonging.

Yuya managed to pull herself away long enough to gasp, “We shouldn’t-”

“No love, no ties,” Kyoshiro whispered, breath coming quick.

Yuya’s eyes roved to Kyoshiro’s brother’s file that sat, forgotten, on the coffee table. With a deep sigh, Yuya replied, “Yeah –no love, no ties.” As the words left her lips, Kyoshiro tugged at her shirt, pulling it over her head, fingers caressing over thin skin and jutting bones.

…

((A/N: The scene is now skipping for your (the reader’s) benefit… I know how most of you all hate Kyoshiro and probably hate me for having him and Yuya in the sack, but oh well. I’m developing plot. ;) Lets leave it at that…))

Yuya awoke, pleasantly achy, on a pair of 330 thread-count cotton sheets. Yuya snuggled into the soft cotton, feeling the breeze of her ceiling fan caress her bare torso. She knew, without looking, that Kyoshiro was not beside her –he would be down the hall, taking a shower. He would have put some coffee to brew, and the newspaper would be on the breakfast table…

Yuya lazily pulled herself out of bed, grabbing her robe and slipping into her fuzzy yellow slippers. Yawning, she walked down the hall while tying her terrycloth rode closed. The rich fragrance of Colombian coffee filtered through the air like a beacon of light. Yuya greedily poured some of the warm liquid into a coffee mug, sniffing the tantalizing aroma.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Kyoshiro murmured from where he stood in the doorway. He wore a tee shirt and pair of jeans that he had left at her place a while back.

Yuya grinned lazily. “Coffee is the elixir of the Gods,” she said with a serene lilt to her sleepy voice.

Kyoshiro chuckled, coming forward to pour himself a cup. He put a spoonful of sweetener in, as well as a dash of milk, before retreating to the breakfast table. There he busied himself with the newspaper.

Yuya watched him, contented just by the fact that she had awoken with cologne on her sheets again. To a workaholic woman deprived, that was nearly close to perfection. “Do you want breakfast?” she asked, voice sweet.

Kyoshiro shook his head, eyes never leaving the paper. “Nah, I need to get going. I have to go talk with Sakuya, get her to calm down.”

Yuya nodded. It should have bothered her that the man she’s just slept with was going off to another woman. It should have, but it didn’t. In fact, Yuya was slightly relieved that Kyoshiro wouldn’t be hovering around during his marital crisis. It would mean more stress on her, and more stress was less than desirable.

“Well, I’m off to take a shower. I’ll go by and see your brother again –see what mood he’s in today.” She turned, heading for the bathroom, but stopped. “Oh, by the way, you can leave when you want. I don’t mind.” She made her way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

When she reemerged, Kyoshiro was gone.

…

Yuya donned a blue sweater and black slacks with patent leather dress shoes. She had Kyo’s file, a note pad, recorder and pen tucked into the briefcase under hr arm. She caught a taxi to the penitentiary, not feeling like driving. She wanted to review his files more thoroughly before seeing him again, anyway, and this would give her ample time.

Kyo’s file was relatively clean; aside from drunken and disorderly conduct two years ago, he was one of millions of Japanese citizens. There was no mention of mental issues… save for when he was sixteen. He had been Baker Acted for attempted suicide.

Yuya closed the file, sighing. Teenagers normally got depressed and attempted suicide. So why was Yuya suddenly worried about this development?

The taxi arrived at the Ward an hour later, delayed due to lunch-break traffic. Yuya paid the cabbie before retreating into the cold, false light of the white ward.

“Miss Shiina,” one of the nurses, who Yuya had seen yesterday, greeted. “Are you here to see Mr. Mibu?”

“Yes, if he is able to see me,” Yuya said pleasantly.

“Of course. There is a young woman speaking with him, but as his lawyer, you should be able to butt in,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll open the gate for you.”

The gate that presided over the door to the closed ward slid open, a loud, blaring horn sounding. Yuya walked through the door, which a nurse unlocked and held open for her.

Yuya entered, shivering despite her woolen sweater –all of the white and harsh light was less than soothing. In fact, it was damn near nerve wrecking.

Kyo was not alone in the ward today. There were four other men who were dressed in white. One was dancing to music that played softly from the nurses’ station. His movements were jerky, and he frequently twitched or had spasms. The three other men were busy playing a card game mutely.

A woman sat beside Kyo, her long black hair hanging silkily around large breasts and a thin waist. She was extremely pale with ruby-red lips, her voice coming out as a velvety purr. “-won’t work, Kyo,” she was saying, tone flippant.

Kyo, who had noticed Yuya and watched her with his emotionless eyes, was paying no heed to the woman. Yuya calmly walked up to them, suppressing the urge to smooth down her hair and check her slacks for lint.

The woman slowly turned, her dark eyes scornfully landing on Yuya. “Oh… hello.”

“This is my lawyer, Okuni,” Kyo explained with a seemingly less-than-thrilled lilt to his voice.

“Oh,” the woman murmured, a look of smug satisfaction in her expression. “Well, Kyo, I’ll go and let you two get to it.” She stood, long legs shoved into low-slung jeans. She sashayed out, making sure that every movement was exaggerated, every step was contoured.

Yuya took the woman’s abandoned seat and, before she could even ask how he was feeling, Kyo said, “Okuni.”

Yuya blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Okuni,” he repeated impatiently. “Her name is Okuni. She was my date the night I sent that fuck-head into a coma.”