Samurai Deeper Kyo Fan Fiction ❯ Wicked Ground ❯ Photo Album ( Chapter 8 )

The man behind the bar, which was a rotting, tall slab of cheap wood, was wiping a mug with a dirty rag. Instead of actually cleaning the glass, he seemed to be spreading the grime around it. His eyes were trailing all over Yuya in a way that reminded her sorely of Kyo. Kyo’s eyes had the same hungry look in them when they gazed down on her last night.

“What will you have?” the bartender asked, his weasely little face producing an even more weasely little voice. His nose seemed to twitch, as if catching her scent.

Yuya handed a picture of Kada Tokugawa to the bartender. It had been a simple picture that had been displayed in the local papers. Nothing fancy, just a picture of the man walking down the street with a cell phone. “Do you recognize this man?” Her tape recorder was playing, tape reeling slowly.

The man looked at her suspiciously. “You a cop?”

“A lawyer,” Yuya answered testily. “Now, have you seen this man?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him,” the bartender murmured, pointy nose twitching again. “He used to come in pretty regularly. He was a real womanizer, let me tell you. Gods, it was amazing to watch him lay on the charm. I wish I had his funk.”

Yuya felt the bile rise in her throat but kept her thoughts of disdain to herself. Instead, she told the man what had happened and what exactly the trial was over. Once she was finished, the bartender nodded slowly. “I see… I knew that man could hold his own. You could tell, just by talking to him. No respect for no one but hisself.”

Yuya asked the man’s name and phone number, which would be all they’d need to find him later on. She then said softly, “You’ll receive an official court summons in the mail within two days. Show up to court on the day it says, at the specified time.”

“Why?” he asked, looking worried. “I wasn’t no part o’ this! I weren’t here that night! I-”

“I need to you testify against the man here, Kada Tokugawa,” Yuya said. “All you need to do is show up to the trial, tell a jury what you just told me, and answer questions. Then you are free to go about your life as usual again.”

The man eyed her unsurely. “You sure?”

You nodded. “I’m sure.” She handed him a business card with her office number, her home number, cell, and fax. “Call me if you need anything.”

…

It was nearly five by the time Yuya drove back up her building and took the elevator to her penthouse. She unlocked the door and entered tiredly, kicking off her heels and yawning. “Kyo, what do you want for din-” she cut off, realizing that the television was on, but no one was watching it. Yuya felt the first pang of worry race through her. Where was he? Was he all right? What if he’d run off? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, shit, shit!

“Kyo!” She called, frantically flipping the lights on in the dimming home. “Kyo? KYO, damnit, where are you!”

The pizza box lay, empty and discarded, on the coffee table. There was a beer can, as well, which seemed odd to Yuya. Did she still have beer left over in the frig from when she bought it, over two weeks ago?

She then realized that beer was the least of her worries. “KYO!” she yelled, dashing through the entryway and down the hall. She looked in the bathroom, making sure he hadn’t slit his wrists, or some other nonsense, and was bleeding all over the floor. He wasn’t there. She tried the linen closet –maybe he’d tried strangling himself? No, not there, either.

All Yuya could think of as she frantically ran through the house was Sakuya’s fax. ‘Attempt suicide…severe depression…mental breakdowns…’

Yuya came into her room to find him, asleep, lying across her bed. He was curled up, the haphazard white comforter tucked under his chin. His graceful, long fingers were curled around an open book. His chest rose and dipped with deep breath, lips slightly parted.

Yuya’s heart stood still for a moment before she let out a trembling laugh. He was breathing, he was alive, he was asleep and by God he’s nearly given her a heart attack. She strode up to her and slapped him across the face, jarring him into wakefulness.

“What the hell!” he growled. The peaceful serenity of his sleeping self didn’t last long. His hand went to his cheek, his eyes glaring at her. “What was that for!”

“For scaring the shit out of me!” she yelled back. “How was I supposed to know if you ran off, or if you killed yourself! How the fuck would I explain that to the authorities when you’re supposed to be locked up in the loony b-” She broke off, her eyes landing on the book Kyo had been holding. Her photo album. The large, glossy picture of her brother and herself stared back at her. She was on her brother’s back, laughing, as they played at the beach. His tall, strong form held the nineteen-year-old-Yuya with ease. That was four years ago, a month before his death.

Kyo watched as her face seemed to drain of color, as she looked on at the picture before her. He, himself, had been intently studying the picture about an hour ago, amazed at how Yuya looked. So free, so spirited. He hadn’t seen her like that. She’d always been on her guard around him. She never laughed like she was in the picture, where her eyes twinkled with happiness.

Suddenly Yuya’s hand flared outward, catching Kyo again on the face. A loud smack, resonating in the mostly faux-stone room, alerted Kyo what she had done before his mind could even process it. She’d hit him. Again.

Before he could give her a biting comment, both of her hands were on him, raining hits and punches, nails clawing at him in a mindless rage. Kyo, at first, was too stunned to even hold up an arm in protest. After a few seconds, though, he grabbed her wrists in his hands, holding her still. She struggled against him, letting out a screech. Tears were falling from her tightly shut eyelids.

Kyo wrestled her to the bed, his body pinning her in place. He took her wrists and restrained them above her head, his legs trapping hers. She struggled, crying loudly, her face screwed up in pain. Not physical pain, for Kyo was hardly exerting any force. It must have been emotional. She struggled against him before going completely still, her head tilted to the side, eyes still clenched tightly closed. Her tears did not stop, though. They filtered down her face, smearing mascara as they did.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Kyo snapped, but he felt a twinge of guilt when he saw her flinch. He sighed, irritated, and unable to focus. What was he supposed to do during a time like this? He couldn’t let her up –there was too high of a risk that she’d try killing him. He couldn’t exactly keep her pinned down like this, either. He could deny it all he liked, but he was attracted to this woman. Holding her down in this position wasn’t exactly the healthiest idea at the moment.

“You asshole,” she said between gritting teeth. Her eyelids parted, blue green eyes turning to glare at him. “You goddamned pick, asshole, scum-”

“Stop it,” Kyo growled, feeling the urge to smack her across the face. Had his mother not raised him to treat women with respect, he might have. As it was, he grumbled, “If I let you go, will you promise to calm down?”

“Fuck you!” she spat, eyes infuriated. “Going through my thing! What right did you have! Why, Kyo? Goddamnit, I trusted you to stay here and keep your hands to yourself! I trusted you!”

Then that’s where you went wrong, Kyo thought to himself, unable to stay mad at her. Now his anger had become direct mostly at himself. He shouldn’t have gone into her room, rummaging for something of interest… but how was he to know that she’d react the way she had? How was he to know that she was still torn up about this guy? Who was he, anyway? Too young to be her dad, too intimate to be a friend. An ex?

Kyo wasn’t about to say he was sorry. He had too much pride for that. No matter how prettily the woman pled, he wasn’t about to lose his pride. “I was bored,” he snapped, feeling his defenses rise up. “How was I supposed to know you didn’t want me looking? It was laying out in the open!”

Yuya sniffled, but there was only anger and a twinge of hurt in her expression. Kyo pulled away from her, sliding off of the bed and heading for the door. He stopped at the threshold, though, turning to look at her. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Nothing.”

He slammed his fist against the wall, making it shudder under his force. Yuya flinched. “I am not letting you continue this anorexia nervosa thing anymore, Shiina,” he snapped. “Now what do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza,” Yuya finally answered, voice soft. She sat up, turning her back to Kyo. “Order pizza. I… I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Kyo left the room, heading for the phone. He dialed the number on the side of his empty pizza box, ordering a large pizza and hung up. Thirty minute wait. What was he going to do about Yuya? He had thirty minutes to cheer her up and to try to make her forget everything that had just happened.

After ten minutes, he reentered her room cautiously. “Shiina?”

When she didn’t answer, he flipped the light on. Yuya was curled up under the white coverlet of her bed, no longer in her gray business suit. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, which was angelic and calm in sleep. Her photo album was clutched possessively to her chest.

Kyo sat beside her, realizing that he didn’t want to wake her up. She deserved some sleep; it would be heartless to deprive her of it. Nonetheless, he shook her out of her dreamscape, murmuring, “I ordered a pizza. C’mon, you need to answer the door, remember?”

Yuya nodded, sleepily rubbing her eye with a fist. She wouldn’t meet Kyo’s eyes, but she slid out of bed and made her way to the entryway, shuffling as she went.

The pizza delivery came and Kyo and Yuya ate in silence. Kyo, who didn’t have much of an appetite, managed to get down two pieces of the stuff. Yuya nibbled and picked at the crust, taking small bites that reminded Kyo sorely of a squirrel. Un écureuil, Kyo thought with a small smile, remembering how half of his French class had thought it was such a fun word to say. And it was, not that Kyo would have admitted that. Écureuil would now be his little nickname for Yuya –his pretty, emotionally confused écureuil.

Yuya managed to eat a single slice of pizza before giving up on the entire affair. Her stomach felt queasy with the greasy food floating around in her belly. She wrapped the remaining pizza in saran wrap and put it into the refrigerator, saying softly, “I need to go to bed. Good night.”

Kyo nodded softly, not about to ask her to stay. Again, his pride was much too strong. His “goodnight” was simply getting up and sauntering over to the couch, grabbing a blanket and the spare pillow he’d used the night before.

Once the penthouse was silent and only the sound of cars buzzing outside was heard, Kyo murmured into the darkness of the night, “Bonne nuit, mon écureuil.”