The Cost

Karasu ordered his guards to escort Takumi all the way out and told his second in command Aoi to prepare one of the Sakura Avenue apartments and make sure the mics and cameras couldn’t be detected even by the state-of-the-art Kuroda gear.

When they had all left, the door hissed shut, leaving Rei and Karasu alone in the silent, tense aftermath. Karasu walked over and locked the door. For a long moment, he just stood with his back to her, a statue of contained fury. Then, without warning, he slammed his fists into the reinforced doorframe. The impact was a thunderclap in the quiet room, the heavy door shuddering on its hinges.

Rei flinched, her heart leaping into her throat. He remained there, his shoulders a tense line beneath his suit jacket. His breathing was a harsh, raw sound, nothing like his usual baseline calm. The air itself smelled of his anger, sharp and acrid. She watched him, frozen for a moment, seeing the forceful grip he still had on the wood of the doorframe, the almost imperceptible tremor that ran through his arms. This wasn’t the calculating Master Spider. This was something primitive, something unraveled. Slowly, carefully, she approached him as one would a wounded, feral animal; each step deliberate, non-threatening.

“Sit down”, he growled, the words ripped from his throat. He still didn’t turn, just jabbed a finger violently toward the plush velvet chair Takumi had occupied. She stopped her advance. Swallowing hard, she obeyed, sinking into the cushions of the armchair. The velvet felt rough. Her eyes remained locked on his back as he finally pushed away from the door, turning to pace the length of the room. The controlled leader was gone, replaced by a thunder cloud. A stream of low, vicious, creatively violent curses filled the air, each one a detailed, painful prophecy of Takumi Senior’s demise.

“That corporate gaki,” he snarled, running a hand through his hair, utterly destroying its combed back style, “He thinks he can walk into my house, and buy what’s mine? He thinks his Units and his chrome-plated lackies make him almighty?” He kicked a small, elegant metal side table. The huge glass ashtray on top flew off, skittering across the floor with a grating sound. Buds scattering. Karasu continued unbothered. “The arrogant, preening, corpo bastard,” he snarled, running another hand through his hair, disheveling its slickness into an absurd bird nest, “He thinks he’s so clever. Reshaping the deal… making it a fucking lease…”, he spat the word like poison, “He should have walked. A man with a shred of pride, a man who wasn’t so God-damned entertained by you, would have walked!”

The raw, furious truth of it hung in the air. Takumi’s desire wasn’t just a casual want; it was a stubborn, calculating obsession. And that, more than any insult, was what truly aggravated Karasu. He stopped his pacing, his chest heaving. He finally looked at her, his blue eyes burning with a fury that made her shrink.

“And you,” he said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, “So calm. So submissive. Serving him water like a good little doll.” Rei’s own anger, banked by fear, flickered to life, “I did as you ordered me too, didn’t I? Or what did you want me to do, Karasu?” she shot back, her voice trembling but clear, “Pull a knife? Spit in his face? He would have killed you where you sat and taken me anyway! I was playing the part you trained me to play!”

“The part?” he echoed, a bitter, humorless laugh escaping him. He stalked toward the chair, looming over her, “Was that all it was, Rei? Or did you enjoy it? Seeing two men ready to burn the city down over you? Feeling his eyes on you, knowing he was imagining what he’d pay for?” The accusation was a slap. Rei surged to her feet, meeting his glare without backing down, the height her heals putting them nearly eye-to-eye.

“How dare you!” she whispered, her hands clenching into fists at her sides, “After everything you think I like this? You think I want to be a doll pulled apart by two man-children with surging egos?” Her voice broke on the words, “I did what you ordered to protect you. To protect us. I love you goddammit! Or are you too proud and too angry to even care?”

She was crying now, hot, angry tears of frustration and fear she couldn’t hold back, “You told me to become a weapon! Well, this is what it looks like. This is the cost. And you don’t get to be angry at the blade for being sharp!” Her words hung between them, stark and honest. Karasu stared at her, at the tears cutting tracks through her perfect composure, at the fierce, desperate love shining through her rage. The fury on his face didn’t vanish, but it shifted, fractured by a pain so profound it was physical. He sighed and resumed his pacing, but soon stopped, his chest heaving. “The cost”, he repeated her word, his voice hoarse, “is too high.”

Rei’s anger dissipated and she moved to the couch area, visibly exhausted. Her voice was soft, a tentative peace offering in the storm, “Karasu… please sit with me.” For a long moment, he just stared at her, the conflict raging in him. Then, with a sound of sheer frustration, he stalked over and dropped onto the couch beside her.

His arm shot out, not with gentleness, but with a raw need, hooking around her waist and yanking her against his side so hard it forced the air from her lungs in a soft oof. She didn’t resist. She melted into the solid, angry heat of him, her head finding its place against his chest, her ear pressed to the frantic, furious beat of his heart.

He didn’t speak. Instead, his hands came up, his fingers tangling in the hair at her temples, framing her face. The rough skin of his thumbs swept over her cheeks, wiping away the remnants of her tears. His touch wasn’t gentle; it was grasping and distressed, a stark contrast to the calculation of the meeting. They sat in silence for a few more heartbeats, the only sound their mingled, gradually slowing breaths. “Will you…” Rei’s voice was muffled against the fabric of his suit jacket, “Will you really monitor everything I do in that apartment?”

“Yes,” he bit out immediately, the word absolute, a bear trap snapping shut, “Every second. Every breath. If one of Takumi’s chrome-plated creeps so much as looks at you wrong, I’ll know. It’s for your protection.” The justification was sharp, defensive, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her. He paused, his grip on her tightening, “And you’ll report to me. Here. Every weekend. No excuses”, another pause, his voice dropping, losing its edge for a fraction of a second, revealing the naked need beneath, “You’ll still cook me dinner… and breakfast.” The demand was so unexpectedly domestic, so starkly revealing of his own need, that a powerful wave of tenderness washed over Rei, momentarily eclipsing her fear. She tilted her head up to look at him, her dark eyes glittering. Her hand came up, her fingers gently tracing the tense, corded muscle of his forearm.

“I would love to,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She took a shaky breath, needing him to understand, “It actually… it went less catastrophic than I feared. I was touched…,” she admitted, the word feeling small and inadequate, “that you fought for me like that.” She leaned up and kissed him. It wasn’t a kiss of fiery passion, but one of profound gratitude and aching connection, a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm of anger and fear that had opened between them.

For a second, he remained unbending against her mouth, a sculpture of unresolved fury. Then, a low, ragged groan escaped him, a sound of pure surrender. He kissed her back, his mouth claiming hers with ferocity, that was all the words he couldn’t say: mine, afraid, don’t go, I love you, stay. It was a kiss of obsession, fear, and a love so tangled and dangerous it could only express itself as ferocity. When they broke apart, both were breathless.

“This isn’t over,” he whispered against her lips, a vow etched in smoke and fury. It was a promise and a threat. “My heart will always belong to you, Karasu,” she breathed back, the truth of it absolute in her soul. He kissed her again, this time with a deep, consuming hunger, and laid her down on the couch, his body covering hers, blocking out the world and the terrible deal that hung over them.

The world condensed to the space of the velvet couch, to the weight of him above her, to the feel of his lips against hers. The anger and fear had been burned away, replaced by a desperate, tender urgency. His kisses were no longer claims of ownership, but silent prayers against her mouth, her throat, the frantic pulse at her wrist. Her name was a broken whisper on his lips, a sound so sincere it made her chest ache. Her own hands roamed his back, mapping the ridges of old scars and the powerful muscles coiled beneath his skin, memorizing him. The fine fabric of his suit was soon a crumpled heap on the floor, her cheongsam joining it seconds later. In the dim light of his office, with the ghost of Takumi’s presence still lingering in the air, they were carving out a space that was solely theirs. It was a rebellion, a silent scream against the inevitable.

He was worshiping her with a reverence that stole her breath. Every touch, every kiss, was a brand, a memory he was searing into her flesh for the long nights to come. His mouth was hot on her breast, his tongue circling a peak before drawing it deep, drawing a gasp from her that was part pleasure, part pain. She arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her.

“Karasu,” she moaned, her voice barely recognizable. He shifted, his body settling more fully between her thighs, the hard length of him pressing against her core, promising a culmination they both desperately needed. His pale eyes, dark with desire and something more heartbreaking, locked with hers. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her damp forehead, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Look at me,” he breathed, his voice thick, “I want to see you.”

This was it. The peak. The moment the world would fall away and there would be nothing but the two of them, connected, one. She held his gaze, her own eyes wide, full of love. He moved faster, deeper, he started to shake slightly —

BZZZZZT. BZZZZZT.

The sound was brutally invasive. A harsh, electronic buzz from Karasu’s discarded jacket on the floor. His personal encrypted comms. He froze above her, his entire body going stern. A violent curse, guttural and furious, tore from his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as the comms buzzed again, more insistently. It was the specific, urgent rhythm that signaled a critical problem. A fight, a raid, a failed drop-off; something that couldn’t be ignored.

“No,” Rei whispered, her voice cracking, her hands clutching at his back, trying to hold him there, to keep their fragile world intact for just a few seconds more. But the spell was broken. The Spider was already reasserting control over the man. With a sound of pure agony, he pushed himself off her, leaving her suddenly cold and exposed on the velvet. He didn’t look at her as he snatched his commlink from the jacket pocket.

“What?” he snarled into the device, his side to her, whole body tense. Rei lay there stark naked, the heat of their passion rapidly cooling on her skin. She pulled her knees up, a futile gesture of comfort. She watched the muscles in his back clench as he listened to the frantic report. “I’ll be right there,” he bit out, his voice flat. He ended the call and stood for a moment, his head bowed, breathing deeply. The moment of tenderness was gone, sealed away behind his walls. He began to dress with swift, efficient movements, pulling on his trousers, buttoning his shirt, his movements sharp and angry. Only when he was mostly put back together did he finally turn to look at her.

She was still curled on the couch, watching him, her dark eyes huge in her pretty face. The sight of her, so vulnerable and magnificent amidst the wreckage of their interrupted passion, made him falter for a split second. His gaze swept over her. The mask slipped, and she saw the same ache she felt mirrored in his eyes.

“I have to go,” he said, his voice rough. Rei just nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. He turned and left without another word, the door hissing shut behind him, leaving her utterly alone. The silence he left behind was deafening. Rei slowly uncurled, lying back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The scent of him, sandalwood, smoke, sex, still clung to her skin, to the fabric beneath her. She felt the dull, aching throb between her legs, a physical reminder of the connection that had been so brutally severed.

Alone in the quiet, the reality of it all came crashing down. The deal. The apartment in Sakura Avenues. Takumi’s domineering glances. Karasu’s monitors. The moments of her so-called new freedom would now be scheduled, surveilled, fraught with danger. And this den, their sanctuary, was being taken from them.

A single, hot tear escaped the corner of her eye and traced a path down her temple into her hairline. She made no move to wipe it away. She just lay there, stripped bare and alone on the couch, contemplating the golden leash, the desperate tenderness, and the love that felt more like a wound than a salvation. The silence in the office was absolute, a cruel contrast to the chaos of minutes before. Rei lay still, the velvet of the couch taking the shape of her, the scent of Karasu and their unfinished passion a heavy, taunting perfume in the air.

She was adrift in a sea of her own thoughts, the reality of her new cage settling around her like a weight, when the door opened. It was so sudden, so utterly unexpected, that for a second she thought Karasu had returned. But it was Aoto who stepped inside, his head down, focused on a data slate in his hand. “Karasu-sama, my father needs the—”, he began, his voice cutting off abruptly as he looked up. His eyes, dark and serious, swept the room, landing not on the empty desk, but on her. Rei gasped, scrambling upright in a rush of motion. She grabbed the crumpled silk of her cheongsam from the floor, clutching it to her chest in a futile attempt at covering up.

Aoto froze, his own face flooding with a deep blush that crept all the way to the tips of his ears. He jerked his gaze away as if he’d been burned, staring fixedly at a spot on the opposite wall. “Rei! I’m sorry! I didn’t—the door was unlocked—I thought—”, he stammered, his voice tight with mortification. He looked like he wanted to turn into smoke and vanish through the vents.

“It’s… it’s fine, Aoto”, Rei managed, her own cheeks burning as she fumbled with the dress, turning away from him to slip it on. Her fingers felt clumsy, all thumbs, “I was just… Karasu had to go suddenly…” Aoto walked closer to the wall in front of him, staring intently at a framed poster of a boxer. “I see,” he mumbled into the wall, his posture strained with embarrassment. He took a hesitant, sideways step toward the filing cabinet by the desk, keeping his eyes averted, “I just… my father needs the schematics for the… for the Sakura Avenues apartments. For the, uh, arrangements.” The words hung in the air between them, a stark reminder of what had transpired in Karasu’s office. The arrangements for her transfer. Rei finally managed to fasten the last clasp, the silk settling against her like a second comforting layer of skin. She turned around, smoothing down the fabric. “I’m dressed now”, she sighed.

Aoto looked cautiously over his shoulder, giving her a sheepish smile, “Oh-okay. The data slate should be right here in the top drawer,” he said, his voice quieter now, more controlled. “A blue one,” He moved with efficient, hurried movements, yanking the drawer open and pulling out the specified slate. The tension in the room was thick enough to taste; a mix of his acute embarrassment and the lingering, intimate energy he had so clearly disturbed. He clutched the data slate to his chest like a shield, “I’ll just go then.”

“Aoto,” Rei said, just as he reached for the door. He paused, his hand hovering over the handle. He risked a glance back at her, his gaze skittering away from hers after a millisecond, landing somewhere on her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said softly, “For the self-defense training. It… it helped me.” It was a peace offering, an attempt to bridge the awkwardness with a memory of a simpler time, when her biggest worry was a sweep kick and the way his eyes would sometimes linger on her.

Aoto’s blush deepened, but he gave a short, sharp nod, “You were a fast learner,” he said, his voice rough. Then, without another word, he practically fled into the hallway, the door sighing shut behind him, leaving Rei alone once more. The encounter, though brief and painfully clumsy, had shattered her melancholy. She was no longer just the lovesick girl on the couch. She was Rei.