King's Prize (Kissed By The Baddest Bidder)

Chapter 1: Six Months Later

"Soryu?"

Soryu opened his eyes and looked sideways at her. She was looking up at him, eyes very much alert unlike the other passengers of the plane, who have by now gone to sleep.

She was nervous going back to Japan for the first time in almost six months.

Coming all the way from Italy where he had to meet with the Italian branch of the Ice Dragons, the flight should have made her tired, but no. She was as fidgety as she was earlier that morning, and though he understand, he couldn't help himself from feeling a bit green.

They have been staying in Hongkong all this time, and Honey had adjusted to the demands of his life quite impressively, her ability to strike trust upon first meeting had endeared her more to the Ice Dragons, though a woman fitting right in would have been impossible and unthinkable before. He still couldn't understand how she did it, of course. That people tend to warm up to her soon after meeting her was still something of a mystery to him.

"I can't sleep," she whispered when he didn't answer.

"Have you taken your sleeping pills?" he asked gently.

She nodded, dismayed.

He patted her hand, a sigh breaking out of him. He worried there was something bothering her that she just wouldn't tell him, her insomnia had been mild at first until it became so alarming that she had to see a doctor.

Outside she looked like she can handle her own, blending right in with the other Dragons. The nights speak otherwise.

She wouldn't sleep until after he was back home, and at first he found it very thoughtful of her that she'd wait up for him no matter how long it would take him. But on days he was out of town and couldn't take her with him, Inui would call in a worried voice that 'princess hadn't slept for days now'.

Apparently, she couldn't sleep with him gone.

Until she couldn't sleep at all.

Thus, the sleeping pills.

"Do you think I should take another one?" she tugged at his arm as if daring him to disagree.

He reached for her cheek and pulled her close, leaving a soft peck on her lips. "If you insist, but... just for tonight, alright?" Then we'll see a doctor once in Tokyo, he added in his head.

She beamed and reaching for her pocket, popped open her medicine bottle and swallowed a pill, and it always surprised him how she could actually take it without water.

He watched as she settled back in her seat, felt her lay her head on his shoulders, and after what seemed to be a long while, was finally breathing steadily.

***

Ota Kisaki came down from the platform amidst the cheers and screams, the models in their skimpy lingerie drooling at him as he passed by. The fashion show was a success, of course, his presence had made it so, and Ota knew this for a fact.

Everyone was in a titter ever since he decided to grace the show, and once out of the spotlight, the girls gathered around as if waiting for him to give the verdict.

He looked at each and every one of their eager faces.

"You, you, you and you," he said pointing at four girls at random.

The squeals of the chosen were drowned by the groans of those who weren't.

Soon enough, four gorgeous girls were following him like puppies to a master.

Mitsunari Baba was waiting for him by the car, smirking at his choice of company.

"Not bad," the master thief mused, sliding on the driver's seat.

Ota smiled knowingly from the passenger seat. "My tastes are way better than yours, of course."

"I seriously doubt that," Baba countered.

Once on the road, Baba showed him his cellphone, looking like a cat in a cream bowl.

See you guys in eight hours!

Ota raised a brow, and showed Baba a message he had received just an hour ago.

Ota, I'll be seeing you in 8 hours, how cool is that? :-)

"Mine's longer," he boasted. "It has my name on it, see?"

"It's even got a smiley," he added for good measure.

Baba scowled and said nothing.

***

Mamoru Kishi left the jazz bar and welcomed a breath of fresh air, stubbing a cigarette butt with his shoe. The police officers at the station had decided to throw him a farewell party, and one hour into the celebration he started getting claustrophobic and excused himself, albeit abruptly. He'd rather sleep tonight, for who knows how soon the Interpol would make use of him and he figured he had to have as much rest as possible.

"Darn kid," he muttered when he read the message on his phone.

But instead of going north where his apartment was located, he steered south to the direction of the hotel.

***

"How's it doing tonight?"

The man Eisuke questioned, the one they call The Pencil, bowed down at the sound of his voice, and gestured towards the bustling casino floor, saying, "It's fairly well tonight Sir, but we do not expect to be full, it's a weekday, after all. I have delegated a shill on every table just to keep the games going, and of course, to attract players, Sir."

Eisuke nodded. "It's always like this at this time of the year." January has always been the least profitable with the holidays recently ended.

"We always do better on weekends, Sir, it's not really so bad. Some George prefer to play on a weekday anyway."

Eisuke smirked, looking around for the familiar faces who have become popular with his employees, the ones who have always been 'big tippers'.

"I'll play."

"Very good, Sir."

Eisuke chose the blackjack table, and soon enough, other players started joining in.
Halfway through the game, he stared at the screen of his phone for the third time, unaware that the dealer had signalled for his turn and was now awaiting his bet.

The casino had all too suddenly became a blur as the letters of her text messages seemed to jump out of the screen.

Eisuke, we're coming home!

Hey Eisuke!

I brought you a souvenir, I hope you'll love it :-)

See you soon :-)

So she really is coming home.

He didn't bother sending a reply, like he had since Soryu took her to Hongkong, and why would he anyway? She was obviously happy, and though he hated that it was so, he couldn't entirely hate Soryu for it. He couldn't understand why she still bother, though, but she had stopped calling him a month ago, probably because he never answered, and knew she had been talking about him with Baba instead.

He smirked and returned the phone at the pocket of his jacket.

"All in," he drawled, pushing all his black chips to the center of the table.

A/N: