Red As Snow...(BWAM, Yakuza Romance, 18+)

Chapater Twenty Four

It is a few minutes past noon on the basis of the wall clock chiming. I lay wide awake, my back pressed to Tsumibito's nude front whilst his arm remains slithered around my waist, the softness and evenness of his breathes serving as the only source of noise. One thought clings to mind, fuels my anxiety -how did I end up naked. Did anything sexual transpire between us in the night? I work to recall bits and pieces of memory until I am well able to piece together the puzzle. I sigh upon recollection of resent past.

Why did he aid me at my weakest?

I dread that the entirety of my being took solace in the arms of a man who brought hell's inferno to my very feet,
dread that even now, my heart somewhat flutters. Grace no! Perhaps this is a symptom of the Stockholm syndrome I heard of from colleagues and studies in the past. I attempt to release myself from the confines that are the man's arms but he pulls me a tad bit closer, holds me a tad bit tighter.

"Tsumibito."
It is more of a whisper, a silent plea.
Still, the man remains mute, my own rumbling stomach being the only response to the call. Oh, but the sound of it is the only force the man so needs to finally speak.

"How do you feel now, Rosa," comes the huskiness of his voice.
"I'm not burning up so that's something.
"Mhmm. You are hungry," a statement more than a query.
"I am."

He keeps silent for a millisecond, two milliseconds, a whole minute, until ultimately, he draws back entirely, gets from under the silkiness of the sheets. I sit still as a statue, my ears straining to make out any sound. Then, he makes a call, orders for foods and drink be brought up to our hotel suite, hangs up.

I turn to face up at the man who now glances down upon me, his strands of disheveled hairs tickling the skin of his forehead.
"Today is the last we spend in Paris. My promise still remains. I will accompany you to see the Eiffel tower. At what time would you like to leave?"

As he questions so coolly, he folds arms before his chest out of habit -I have come to conclude- the intensity of his gaze pinning me firmly in position.
"In the evening, say around six?"
"Mhmm. In the meantime, what would you fancy doing?"

It takes a hot minute to conjure a response mainly because the Tsumibito I am accustomed to rarely exhibits humane characters. I sit up straight, palm clutching firmly the sheets to my chest, neck craned, eyes on his.

"What is the matter?" We both question in harmonic unison before falling mute.
"Go on, Rosa."
I knit brows, the pits of my stomach knotting.
"What is the matter, Tsumibito? Why are you being so...kind all too suddenly?"

His brow arches. The man appears to be in deep contemplation, pondering an appropriate response it appears. His facial features morph instantaneously. They harden and become an empty blankness. There he goes, the other darker persona.

"I've already cleaned up. Go take a bath, come eat, alter your appearance. This once, Rosa, I shall take you to shop for whatever it is you need. Do not attempt anything even remotely stupid."

The doorbell rings and I watch as the man struts lightly towards the doors, the skin of his back a sheet of broken purpled and healing scarification. And I find that my stomach churns sickly at the sight of such raw infliction.

He speaks to whomever, wheels a trolley of foods and drink back into our room before he proceeds to shut, then lock the wooden barriers. And so, despite the growling in my guts at the divine scents wafting and diffusing across the chamber, I gather myself off the bed swaddled in sheets, working to tread past a still-stood Tsumibito.

His palm shoots out instantaneously and he grabs my upper arm, effectively halting me dead in my tracks. I sigh deeply, looking him dead in the eye.
"You will be in the midst of numerous people, Obal. Make sure to properly alter your appearance," cool, his voice is cool.
I look from his eyes down to his palm wrapped around my arm and back to his eyes -smirk a taunting smirk.