The older woman's gaze held onto him as he slowly got off the floor.
His tongue briefly collected the blood dripping from his lip as he smirked.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't bullshit with me, Shinjiro."
"Then you tell me, since you know what I'm getting accused of..."
Juri's jaw tightened.
The violent tremor in the room ebbed.
Not gone. Never fully gone.
Just quiet enough for the man's words to settle between them.
"Every day," Juri began, "I have to wake up to the scent of blood in my mouth," she whispered, never breaking eye contact with him. "And every time I wake up, I'm forced to live in the same building as you do. Watching you eat the same shit every day. Wearing the same clothes you do every day!"
She took a deep, shaky breath.
"Picture that, Shinjiro. My back crying from the torment you put me through... my eyes aching from all the tears you hate to see."
Her voice cracked.
"My heart," she whispered, "broken the same way it's always been for the past seven years."
The old man's sharp eyes never loosened.
But they weren't as intense as earlier.
"Every day, I wake up and make you breakfast."
"Clean your floors."
"Cook your food, Shinjiro."
Her body lowered, her knees brushing the soft, crumpled mattress beneath her feet. "And I do all that without complaint."
She laughed, though the sound carried a wounded discomfort that made the man's stoic expression falter.
"And it isn't because I love you," she murmured, her words torn. "I don't. Lord knows I stopped loving you the moment I found you with that girl."
"Juri, I—"
A sharp burst of air shot past his ear, grazing his cheek.
Blood marked the trail it left.
But he didn't flinch.
"Not. Another. Word," she whispered.
She finally looked up at him, her eyes red, puffy, and swollen, not just from crying.
"I can handle you hitting me," she said. "I'm not weak. You hit me, I'll hit you. We've done that a million times already. We both know the rules."
Her hand slowly lifted, pointing towards the glass door leading to the balcony, the moonlight still pouring into the dimly lit room.
"But out there?"
"We don't touch what's out there, Shinjiro."
Her finger slowly curled, her nails biting into her palm. "I let you be the loving and respectful husband you wanted to be for everyone out there. I let you be the respected and esteemed officer for the world out there, Shinjiro."
"You can lie to them."
"Not me."
She slowly set her feet on the cold wooden floor, but she didn't look at him. Her hair kept her hidden.
"So I'll ask you one last time," she declared softly, getting up. "And you better answer me..."
•••
[ Tokyo, Ayanaki Shelter House: Present ]
•••
[ "What did you do to that girl, Shinjiro?" ]
Kisaragi's eyes narrowed as he watched Graham's shadow through the crack beneath the door.
Akira hadn't yet dared to breathe too loudly.
He'd been stuck in thought for five minutes, and she didn't want those five minutes to end.
( "How'd she find out about what happened...?" )
The man settled deeply into his chair as he rubbed the bite mark his collar couldn't hide.
( "Judging by the state of her, I don't think she went around babbling about what happened. She doesn't seem like the type to do that." )
Outside, Graham waited patiently, his hands lightly resting on the doorknob.
•••
[ "Graham, I want you to stay here while I go do something." ]
[ "Can you at least explain what the hell's going on—?" ]
[ "Don't question me. Just do it. I'll give you the answers you want later." ]
•••
His brows furrowed further as he stood there.
( "Juri, just what the hell are you planning?" )
Inside the room, Akira's body grew uncomfortable from the awkward position she was in.
She shifted ever so slightly.
Just a foot.
And yet Kisaragi saw it immediately.
She felt his intense glare on her as she froze.
Her heart spiked.
And then, slowly, he got up from his seat.
"You."
He walked forward, each step a calculated measurement, until he stood in front of her, just like before.
Close.
Personal.
Invasive.
Akira's mind flashed back to their entire first encounter.
Her eyes shut as she let out a tiny, terrified sound.
The lavender broke free, spilling into the room like ink.
His hands, rough and aged by time, tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.
His voice was softer now, almost sympathetic.
"Didn't I tell you not to tell anyone?"
Akira's voice shook in her throat as she tried to speak.
"I-I didn't. I swear I didn't say anything—"
Kisaragi's expression flattened.
( "If she told Juri, then that'll be a problem I can handle." )
( "But if it's her..." )
His eyes darkened as he pinched her cheeks.
"You're lying, you filthy piece of shit."
The insult hurt her more than she'd liked.
She'd been called many names.
That wasn't one of them.
She tried to recoil, but she couldn't. Her body had frozen in place.
Her nails dug into the wooden chair as his grip on her face became almost painful.
"Tell me, who did you tell?"
"I-I-I'm sorry, I—"
"Speak up."
The man outside noticed the urgent scent drifting from beneath the door as his eyes sharpened.
[ "Whatever happens, I want you to stay outside no matter what." ]
"Juri, c'mon, where the hell are you?" Graham whispered to himself.
He couldn't hear anything past the soundproofed doors, which made his anxiety grow even faster.
Inside, Kisaragi paused as his eyes watched Graham's shadow.
( "Why's he not coming in yet? Can't he smell the lavender?" )
His attention shifted back to Akira as he smiled slowly.
"Alright... you don't want to talk?"
"Fine."
"We'll do this the hard way, then..."
His hands lowered to her neck, holding her firmly before he looked at the door.
He took out a small device and threw it towards the door.
A low, subtle click told them one thing.
Locked.
Akira's skin went pale with fear.
Her eyes widened as she felt his grasp tighten around her neck.
Her mind went numb.
Her pulse burned in her chest with each constricting heartbeat.
Kisaragi's thoughts darkened with each passing second.
( "If he's not gonna save you, I'll force you to make the first move." )
The warmth of her skin beneath his palm.
The panic in her pulse.
He relished it deep within.
"C'mon, sweetheart," he whispered, tightening his hold on her. "Tell me the truth."
"Who."
Her eyes rolled back as the world slowly became black.
"Did."
His grip tightened.
"You."
His other hand moved lower.
"Tell."
He watched her slowly lose consciousness.
His smile faltered.
For a moment, just a moment, he almost let her go.
But then, with his next movement, just as his hands explored her undergarments-
The lavender disappeared.
Not gradually.
Like it had been sucked out of the room completely.
Kisaragi's senses, honed by years of service on the battlefield, screamed immediately.
( "What the—?" )
Every point of his body that made contact with her skin felt a sharp pang, like fire burning through him.
His withered blue eyes lit up immediately.
Reflex.
Muscle memory.
But before he could tighten his grip further, the hybrid's body slowly stood up from the chair.
Completely.
Her lofty, towering height made the old man's eyes widen as he looked at her in horror.
"What the fu—"