Venom's Sweet Sugar.

The piano's fine rhythm played in unison with Chigusa's sleek voice, rendering an almost hypnotic effect on Ruka's senses. The night was undoubtedly growing fine, after all; and his choice of company was no less than perfect. The road lights came and went in the car's speed, like meteors that illuminated the void and then died soon after, never to shine again. However, it was no meteor that sat beside him in the darkened vehicle; rather, a jewel encased in a somewhat roughened shell: pitiable Scylla, who in her savage beauty feasted on all mariners who dared approach her desolation.

"Now, now... shall I say flattery myself?" A soft grin widened upon his lips, setting his left elbow on his door's side while grasping the wheel with one hand. "I'm not much of a ladies' man; I treat women the way I see it fit." Ruka's eyes slid momentarily to the rearview mirror to steal a glance at Sanjouin's countenance. "I have a keen eyes for the ladies, yes; you, my dear, are an exceptionally rare find, so to speak." He hoped that he sounded far from being a liar; more often than not in the past, people often mistook his words contrary to what he actually meant. That alone was troublesome when he was being truthful, though it did come in handy whenever he wished to conceal his real thoughts.

Whatever did her reflection in the mirror show? A tender flower preserved in ambergris, long dead but still flaming with the radiance of a living thing. Leaving her in her made-up world was merciful, rather than cutting her out of her delicate coffin and allow her loveliness to rot away. That was all Ruka perceived, and the more that he studied this young lady, he saw her frailty despite the diamond scales that encrusted her entire being; the harshness in her beautiful ruby orbs that built the indomitable wall around her. How long has it been, perhaps, since she started dwelling in the obvious bitterness that welled in her eyes, in her words? And for how long will she remain in her false existence?

The answers were not for Tsuchiya Ruka to find out. All that he wanted for the time being was to show Sanjouin Chigusa that she was worth more than she ever thought she amounted to, as a human being... no matter how broken she may be.

After all, wasn't he himself just as broken as every single lady who worked at the club? Only, his condition was far, far worse than anyone might have expected... and that he was beyond salvation, if he cannot procure it for himself.

Ruka's ultramarine stare lingered to Chigusa's right shoulder. Save for the beige coat, it was bare of any safety restrains. He clicked his tongue in gentle reprimanding. "Such an untamed beauty you are," he said in a somewhat playful note. "You must know how reckless motorists are in this city." Keeping his fingers secured on the steering wheel, he leaned over to Chigusa's far side, reaching for the seatbelt hook. He was dangerously close to her, treacherous and seductive viper that she was, from what he heard about this young lady's repute, but what did he care? He might as well would have stepped right in the way of her fangs, fully conscious of the threat, and welcomed the venom into his very veins without so much of a flinch. She won't bite, not yet, he thought, as her heady fragrance tried in vain to cloud the recesses of his mind. Not until I allow her to.

His eyes never left the windshield as he pulled the safety belt over and down her waist, deftly slipping the hook into the lock. "There you go." Straightening up in his seat, Ruka took a good look directly at the turquoise-maned beauty and grinned. "If I actually want flattery to get me anywhere, I would rather have you in one piece than in fragments, first and foremost. But worry you not," he added with a subtle change in his tone, "I won't lay a finger on you, unless I get permission from Juri. You did say that no one is allowed to touch you while still in your shift; you are technically still within working hours, are you not?" Ruka's face remained smiling, though the smile has frozen on his lips.

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The Road to Bacchanalia.

The enticing lavender sheen upon Chigusa's lips caught Ruka's keen eyes as she latched her shapely limbs onto his arm. He only smiled and shook his head at the offer to retrieve the apparel which embraced her shoulders. The night was growing cold, and she has been soaked earlier, to the bones perhaps. Other than the said circumstances, she was attracting too much attention from the habitual vampires who prowled the streets of Setebos; though he would have managed to put up with a good fistfight as was his inclination during high school years, it was the last thing that he wanted for such a fortuituous evening encounter.

He laughed softly at her endearing attempt to speak the House Manager's name, but did not reprimand her for it. "You mean these?" said he, glancing at the wrapped box tucked carefully in his other arm's grasp. "Now that you mentioned it, she used to like these before." He took special care not to give a direct answer; not that he minded the question at all. At the back of his head, Ruka was somehow pleased with the query, and even more with his reply. A pause, and then he pressed his lips into a tight thin line, drawn momentarily into sudden thought before being replaced anew by a disarming grin. "But who knows if she still does, or does no longer? The madeleines won't mind it, surely, even if she has found other... dainties more suitable to her palate." The last line he spoke with amused malice; Juri's unabashed revelation of her gender inclination was well-known indeed, as Chigusa had proven from their conversation. And if he had not known her better, only the Panther's taste for regular foodfare changed, unlike her approach with the prey that she has for so long fawned over — and nearly cost her life.

With the young lady on his arm, he led Chigusa past the door and out of the cozy café. As the sea breeze breathed gently from the harbor, Ruka pulled her closer to him in the most decent manner that he could contrive to avoid incurring her disgust. It was never his intention to come off as a brute, unless he meant to be one. She was, in all aspects, a vile and beautiful rose; one wrong slip and he would find her thorns revelling in the warmth of his blood, as a viper sinks its fangs into pliable flesh.

Though it was likely that this she-serpent would have little gratification from the bite, since there was only so much vigor left in his veins that allowed him to go on with his daily habits.

As he walked her to the car, Ruka could smell the wonderful scent of her hair, perhaps magnified by the soft wind that blew in the night. To think that such a gemstone could be found at a place like Club Ohtori, he caught himself thinking, wondering upon how delicate her features were, and how lovely and candle-like her fingers curled round his arm; an exquisite porcelain doll, alive and warm. What a rueful waste she is... has Juri nothing better to do than to turn fine ladies into heartless marionettes?

He himself has considered the nightclub to be a distasteful place from the moment that he set foot on its threshold for the first time as an investor. If he had his way, and if finances had been more favorable, Ruka would not have accepted the documents that his mother transferred to his name. But as such was not the case, there was nothing left to do but to take what his father had unknowingly spared for him. And as he looked down on this young woman wrapped in his jacket, a good measure of guilt tugged at his soul. He had been living off Chigusa's — not to mention every single lady's — lewd night shows for the past year or so... and the only way he could reciprocate their effort is to give Sanjouin-dono a ride back to the club.

Or was it really the only payment that he was wont to give up in return? But it almost left my mind, he laughed within himself, I am already paying more than what I owe.

Stopping by the blue Ferrari parked a few paces from the coffee shop, Ruka took out his keys, opening the passenger's door for Chigusa. "In you go, my dear," he said, and then made for the driver's seat on the other side. He nestled the sweet case on the sleek dashboard, touching the lazuli charm dangling from the rearview mirror customarily before turning the ignition on. Pale fingers sought the audio system panel; a few moments later from the surround speakers came the slow, subtle, haunting notes of a piano keying in Für Elíse.

"Beethoven. A great classic, isn't he?" Ruka murmured as he drove to the direction of the establishment. "Pardon me if you dislike my eccentric taste, but if you have any other song in mind, do say so. This is primarily why I seldom show my face at the club; the music's not much to my liking." Yet another smile, throwing his gaze at Chigusa by the rearview mirror. "Though I daresay that you never fail to soothe my eyes, if you take my meaning."

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Venus' Fly Trap.

Eyes closed, Ruka took a long, steady sample of his special dark roast as Chigusa aired her deductions aloud. Investor. That's who he is, Tsuchiya Ruka; an investor at Club Ohtori. At least that part of her conclusion was true. Unlike his colleagues in the business, he never engaged himself with internal management concerns and the sort. Only his financial assets — that is to say, his father’s, which the respectable commons man never bothered about, and was now under Ruka’s name — directly got him involved with the establishment. There were pretty ladies who worked at the club, naturally, such as this one with the bloodshot eyes and concealed fangs, much to his liking. But when a person’s profession dictated his presence around the human anatomy and physiology for more than eight hours every day of the week, scant-clad and naked bodies all looked the same, and temptation is extinguished by rationality and logic.

There were, of course, rare exceptional cases when a man felt the need to satiate his desires with something a little more than just a mere hot cup of cinnamon coffee and a seductive woman’s naïve company.

However, Ruka was in an agreeable mood that night, and what his charming lady friend gave was all that he needed. More than enough in truth, as he took note of Chigusa’s evening report with an interested air. A bemused expression grew on his face, seeing her reaction upon his overly familiar address to the House Manager. “Brazen as I may sound, I don’t think Juri would mind if I call her in whatever manner I prefer.” He took the stirring rod and sent it twirling round his fingers. “And even if she did mind, I couldn’t care less.” The glass rod became a shiny blur, spinning in perfect control within his grasp before finally catching it with his thumb. ”Boku wa kekkyoku ima mo kanojo no senpai da.”^* But no one really knew that, and it was very likely that Arisugawa consciously neglected to make such a fraction publicized.

Paying attention to further details did not come off as much of a surprise to him either, though he intently read Chigusa’s face as she imparted her narration, only stirring his gaze upon renewed mouthfuls of coffee. As he predicted, Arisugawa was still basking in the seat of authority at the club, making sure that her claws kept everyone down and up with running the garish night club. And why not? She was the mistress — or the master, rather — of her own counsel, and the other investors knew better than to waste a great deal of time attempting to sway her; save perhaps for Kaoru Miki on a minor note. And if those higher than her rank cannot hold in check her overpowering stubbornness, what more can those working under her do?

And then there was the matter about Shiori… Takatsuki Shiori. His expression never wavered from the usual merry one, but it was nothing more than a mask to conceal the sudden surge of hatred in his chest. Let the little she-moth kiss the candle-light... regrets always come in the end. And when that happens, I shall be the one to sweep the despicable ashes.

A broadening smile was insuppressible from Ruka’s lips, bracing his forearm on the table and cradling his chin with an upturned fist. His senses were wide-awake, drowning in an overdose of caffeine and information which Sanjouin-dono^** graciously supplied. “My, but isn’t she as calculable as ever, Juri is.” He laughed shortly, shifting his crossed legs. ”Shikashi mazui wa tachiba to onaji kurai de, shikatanai darou na?”^***

Observing the young woman’s form over the glass of coffee which he raised to his lips, a soft gleam shone in his beaming eyes upon hearing her seemingly innocent appeal. As shrewd as she was, sitting across the little hardwood table that they shared, Ruka purposefully turned a blind eye and walked willingly into the snare of her offer. “How timely of you to ask, my dear.” The coffee glass was drained in half a minute’s silence, his eyes lingering mindfully yet respectfully over her figure. “I was already wondering if you were about to head home without your belongings.” With a gentle clink, the tall glass settled back on the coaster; he straightened up in his seat and ran a hand through his hair boyishly. “Only the blind could refuse such a request from you, Sanjouin-dono. And even if I were blind, I would still yield to your wishes.” Another smile, and then he stood up. “Do take your time and finish your drink. You must excuse me for a moment,” and with a nod, he sauntered off, hands in his pockets, to the counter.

He peered at the display case, scrutinizing the variety of sweets and pastries, though in reality he was lost in the myriad of his own thoughts. Here was a cunning ploy in the guise of a beautiful woman, as like to Lorelei sitting upon the craggy rocks of the Rhine, luring seafarers to their watery demise. And yet he would take the bait and go under, as Orpheus did to claim peerless Eurydice from the depths of Hades. But wasn’t his venture just as desperate, since Orpheus proved to be overeager and looked into his beloved wife’s face too soon, only to lose her forever? So did it seem. But in the first place, Ruka knew full well that his own endeavor was equally hopeless. He had nothing to lose in risking his own neck, except maybe for the Panther herself… who in truth, was never really his to begin with. In the end, nothing really mattered, apart from the extent of the journey that he embarked in with such great pains, only to gain a good measure of naught.

An attendant presently approached to assist him, interrupting him in his reverie. Ruka snapped out of his musing. “I'd like a dozen --- no, two if you please, two dozen Donsuemor madeleines, half plain and half chocolate-covered," he sang out, laying the cash card flat on the counter. “And mind the packaging if you please.”

“Two dozen madeleines.” The attendant grinned. “Is it for the lucky young lady?” she asked inquisitively, with a hint of envy in her voice while preparing the order speedily but with as much care and skill.

Ruka laughed, taking a piece of spearmint coated with dark chocolate from one of the confection jars. “It’s always for a lady,” he said, popping the candy into his mouth before leaning on the counter edge. “But don’t worry; when you stop working here, I’ll give you a box every week.” A coy giggle alone came as a reply; after a few moments an elegant gold-and-red sweet case trimmed with delicate tissue lace and finished off with a satin ribbon was placed on the counter, along with the invoice and his card. Murmuring pleased thanks, he swept the box under a careful arm and headed back to Chigusa. A devious smile set itself on his lips as he offered his arm in a genteel manner.

“Well? Shall we go?”



^* I am, after all, still her senior.
^** Address of respect following a person’s name.
^*** However, as bad as the situation is, there’s no helping it, is there?

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Deep Night Deepens.

Ruka's friends back in college used to ask him a particular question during late night study session breaks. "What's the best thing to take with a hot cup of coffee?" He would merely look up from his reading and smile. "Kantan deshou."^* Raising the oversized mug of steaming brew to his lips, he would take a careful sip before giving his customary reply: "Anything with cinnamon in it. And a pretty girl, of course."

He could still hear their company's laughter from years past ringing in the recesses of his mind, even as he leaned upon the table, listening to the lovely lady sitting opposite him. Amusing that he then found himself in a warmly-lit café --- with just the very things that made up a delectably wonderful coffee break. Indeed, this wasn't such an uncommon scenario for him; though sharing the company of a crimson-eyed goddess clad in what could pass off as silken rags was far from what Ruka had expected. How pleasant it was to see this firey vixen concoct such a lengthy tale in between seemingly disdainful mouthfuls of coffee, like it tasted as bad as plain carbonated water to a well-seasoned wine connossieur.

He laughed softly in his mind, working the undissolved cinnamon candy in his mouth, inhaling the scent wafting from her cup. Did she even have the slightest idea that she was drinking Espresso Roast, the best dark brew in the house? Most likely not. Elsewhere, his ocean-deep eyes traced Chigusa's features. He was far from being blind, and he was certainly not the last when it comes to art appreciation. Did she know that her eyes shone like rubies, flashing fiercely as she spoke with such unbridled frankness of her apparently spoiled evening? Did she know how wonderful the way her turquoise hair's tips suddenly fell into elegant curls about her shoulders? Did she know that the damp violet silk clung to her full bosom, accentuating her alluring curves and the creamy satin tone of her skin? Perhaps not. An unlooked-for jackpot at the lottery? More like so. But Sanjouin Chigusa wasn't simply the top prize for any lottery; she would have been the Queen of Club Ohtori --- if the owner's sister wasn't placed in the limelight, or so he heard.

An unextinguishable smile grew upon Ruka's lips as the Wicked Queen drew up a query for him. He leaned back, still savoring the cinnamon's exotic bite on his palate. "Wandering Prince, is it?" he repeated. "That's awfully kind of you, my dear. But if you say that you aren't a damsel in distress, then I am no prince, but a simple wanderer as you may put in. But allow me to commend you on such a photographic memory." He reached out for the napkin holder and took one, brushing the sugar off his fingertips. "I haven't been visiting the club lately; the hospital is my mistress, after all. Though we aren't really very different from one another, since we technically work in the same place, in a matter of speaking; so there is no need for elaborate introductions." At the counter he glanced, as the distinctive smell of robust coffee beans burst anew; it was the biting aroma of the special dark blend that he had ordered.

He returned his gaze at the lady with the bloodshot eyes and cyan strands. "So things have gone awry at the club tonight, hasn't it? Then it's well that I never ventured over tonight." Folding the used napkin in front of him, Ruka locked his fingers together and settled his elbows comfortably on the tabletop. "It goes without saying that I am terribly sorry about what inconvenience Touga may have caused you. To say at the least, you are still as beautiful as a naiad. You must forgive me for my cheek," he added with a bit of haste, if only to appease what anger he might kindle with his choice of words, "but I am as straightforward and earnest to all ladies, damsels-in-distress they may be, or not." He always, always made it a point to act as a proper gentleman towards the females who happen to cross his path, even though his efforts would not have been nearly good enough for the auburn-locked Panther who managed Club Ohtori. But that mattered little to him; after all, a woman who thought that she exceeded the capacity of a man needed not a man.

Then again, there was more than one way to catch a cat, more than two ways to skin her, and still more than three to cook her.

"Your Columbia Dark, Tsuchiya-san." The waitress with Ruka's order approached, setting a tall glass of fresh brew in front of him, along with a shaker full of ground cinnamon and his express card. Deviating momentarily, he wrapped his fingers round the glass handle and breathed in deeply. "Iya, subarashi no kaori da. Arigatou, oujosan."^** He winked at the uniformed young woman playfully as he peered over the rim of his drink; the waitress blushed and stammered her excuses before making her way back to the counter.

Adding a dash or two of spice into his coffee, he fixed his attention once more on Chigusa. "May I divert a bit, if you will," he put in with quite an amused demeanor, giving his coffee a brisk stir, "but you mentioned something about Arisugawa-kun earlier." The smile on his face morphed into something similar to a smirk at the feel of the name on his lips. A long, mindful sip he took afterwards, and then allowed the vessel to sit on the coaster. "For some absurd reason I cannot comprehend how the likes of you can keep up with her. Though I daresay that she can try and weary my ears with her usual reprimanding." Crossing his legs, Ruka folded his arms on the table and leaned towards the young lady wearing his coat over her shoulders. "I'm afraid I cannot resist asking. Is the Panther still frolicking in her so-called authority, making everyone else's night life miserable?"




^* That's easy.
^** What a wonderful aroma. Thank you, Miss.



Current Mood: Droll.

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No One's Shadow Am I, But for Myself.

The lone figure hunched over an electron microscope in Cascia Hospital's Med Tech laboratory straightened himself and stretched out, suppressing an overly vulgar yawn to express his fatigue. It was, after all, well into the wee hours after middle night; his companions were taking the opportunity to get a quick rest while the wards were lulled in what false peace the evening has to offer. There was very little time for such indulgence, as their work was more demanding than it fits the job description. But Tsuchiya Ruka never really bothered himself of that reality. The world never goes the way that you want it to, that was what he always believed. He knew perfectly that while work in the field of medicine paid well, there was always the case of having to find himself deep in the mire to earn his worth. Not that he accepted paychecks anyway; he never had the urge to fulfill himself of materials wants, unlike so many of those who resided within the confines of the island.

He ran his fingers sleekly through the rather lengthy azure locks before arching his stiffened back, his shadows stalking the sparsely-lit room's sterilized walls. Deep ultramarine eyes regarded the overly-familiar medical apparatus set up about him with the usual cheerful glimmer in them. This has been his home, his universe ever since his father kicked him out of their house on the very day of his graduation. Ruka could not deny the fact that fate has been a bit too harsh on someone like him, but he never nursed ill feelings nor bore a grudge on his parentals. Somehow, there was always a reason for him to keep getting up from bed with an unquenchable zest for life.

A sigh left his lips in genuine affectation. "Tsukaremashita na."^* Unclamping the sample plate he had been studying for the past hour, he carefully transferred it onto a Petri dish and put it in cold storage, among several other dishes and a dozen or two of test tubes. Making sure the temperature readings on the digital counter was low enough to maintain a favorable atmosphere for his work, he went to turn the microscope off, and then sauntered out of the laboratory with a young rooster's gait.

He greeted every intern, nurse, doctor ― in short, every single employee ― whom he met down the hall en route to the lockers, the way preschool boys did on the way home. The nurses on shift always hung around the corridors outside the wards when their work load allowed them to, if only to get a glimpse of Ruka's perpetually smiling face; perhaps receive an exaggerated but well-meaning compliment from him as well, and if they were lucky, share a deluxe clubhouse sandwich over a cup of cinnamon coffee with him on short breaks or better yet, a proper date. Then again, there were some whom Ruka found to be a little bolder than the most; he chanced upon two of his female co-workers at Med Tech waiting outside the men's locker room after getting out of his scrub suit and lab coat into something decent. "Some other time, maybe," he said with a playful wink, declining the offer of an intoxicating alcoholic night. "Besides," he added in a stage-whisper, "my car's a two-seater. I can't have you both."

A boyish laugh, and off he went, stopping shortly to log his time card out and then heading out to the parking lot. He strode towards a Ferrari, the hue of which mirrored the exact color of his eyes. One would wonder how Ruka managed to get his hands on such a luxurious car, especially that he was literally living off Cascia Hospital's generosity; surely the institution would not consider fraudulent expenditures, even on a highly-prized medical technician as he was. Drumming his fingers on the roof as a greeting, he slipped behind the wheel, taking time to caress a charm carved out of lapis lazuli hanging from the rearview mirror.

From ghoulies and ghosties and four-legged beasties,
and things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!

he chanted in a rhythmic singsong pattern before turning the ignition on and pulling out of the hospital vicinity.

It was an eccentric practice of his, those staves that he said. A half-meant joke he took it, as he discovered the dangers of the island that he had to live with. In the modern age, fantastic creatures were but a faint silhouette of what real evil was about. A former Physiology professor told them before in college, Don't be afraid of things that the senses can't perceive. Be very afraid of what is real, because the harm that they can inflict is as real as can be. And as Ruka reflected, that professor couldn't have been more precise concerning the matter.

Much later, the Ferrari slowed down and halted by a charming coffeeshop in the outskirts of the Inner Harbor. As it was, most hospital employees who worked on irregular schedules have, in some odd way managed to turn coffee into potable water. For Ruka, it was a nerve treatment to keep him on his feet, even away from lab duties.

The chimes hanging on the glass door tinkled as he entered, the warm and inviting smell of various roasted beans invigorating his senses. Ruka threw a hand up in the air, gaily gesturing at the manager minding the orders; already the uniformed lady has acknowledged his presence. "One tall Columbia Dark, my dear. And don't bother about the sugar." He frequented the café often, that is whenever he felt like driving to the place, which was a good way away from Cascia. The manager gave him the order number after returning the express cash card that he rarely used, except for victuals and bare necessities. A jar of candied cinnamon sticks resting on the counter caught his fancy; taking one, he nibbled at it absently, leaving the confection stuck in between his lips like a cigarette as he surveyed the place and looked for his favorite seat.

Humming softly to himself, Ruka made his way to the upholstered easy chair by the glass panes at the far end of the cafe. He was about to ease himself up when his eyes caught a glimmer of turquoise hair by the small round table near his seat. A blank expression crossed his face, holding the cinnamon stick with pale fingers while watching the striking young lady drink her coffee. It was impossible for her not to attract his attention; for one she was wearing a revealing and soppy plum-colored silk attire that displayed her delicate curves. Her lovely turquoise hair was still limp and damp, and her ruby-red eyes gave away what appeared to be scorn. Still, none of these things made her seem less than what she is: lovely and deadly, to Ruka's eyes.

And for another, Ruka knew her. The Wicked Queen they called her at that sinful nest... the same nest that he had been forced to take up, for one or more reasons.

Nipping the candy momentarily to free his hands, he shrugged the beige sports jacket off his shoulders, approaching the young woman from behind. He placed the apparel over her bare white shoulders gently before settling down on the mahogany hardwood chair beside her. "Such a shame," he said, resting an elbow on the table's edge and combing clean fingers through his forelock before looking straight into her eyes. "Here you are, a lady and a damsel in distress by all accounts, and no gentleman would even dare lend you a handkerchief?" The inch-long cinnamon remnant disappeared into the corner of his mouth, finally curving into a smile. "My, but the drenched look certainly is becoming of you, Chigusa." 



^* I'm tired.

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