～ Tatsuya ～
I lean back and take a slow drag on my cigarette while the taste of the whisky is still on my tongue. Next to me, two women are giggling far too loudly and far too intrusively. One strokes my arm, the other tries to impress me with some kind of slogan.
I don't react and let my gaze wander around the room - half bored, half out of habit.
Then I see her.
She is standing half hidden in the crowd, but her posture immediately catches my eye. Alert, calm, different from the others here.
Our eyes meet briefly. No hesitation, no smile. Just a brief moment in which our eyes lock. Her gaze is clear and attentive.
I know immediately: she knows me.
I stay seated and wait to see if she makes a mistake.
Suddenly, a man approaches from the crowd, carrying two drinks in his hands. He looks confident, too confident. I haven't seen him in person, but his appearance gives a lot away: late thirties, maybe early forties, with a fake smile that doesn't look entirely genuine.
He goes up to her and offers her a drink. She takes it without hesitation.
I watch as they talk quietly to each other. She seems calm, almost too calm. I wonder what's behind this encounter.
I lean back and glance at one of my men. "Find out who the man is," I say curtly.
He nods without a word and immediately sets off.
After a short while, she looks around as if she wants to disappear. Then she stands up, says something to the man, turns around and walks quickly to the exit. The man looks after her.
She pushes her way through the crowd, quick steps, determined. Her eyes stare at the door - escape. Without hesitation, she leaves the noisy club.
I signal to my men to follow me. Then I pull my jacket tighter and set my pace behind her.
I step out through the club door into the cool night, the muffled thump of the music fading behind me. The street is quiet, almost too quiet for this time of day - as if it is holding its breath. Two of my men follow me silently at a respectful distance.
My gaze searches for her and I won't let her get away.
Up ahead, about twenty meters away - her silhouette is impossible to miss. Even without the flickering light of the street lamps, I would recognize her. Her posture is tense, but she tries to look calm. Calm and controlled. Impressive.
I walk on without rushing. I've been through these streets often enough, so I know my way around. She, on the other hand... looks around as if she's not familiar with the neighborhood.
A mistake
She turns into one of the side alleys.
I follow her path, turn into the alley too - and see: empty. No sign of her.
Damn.
I pause for a moment and look at one of my men.
"Split up," I say calmly. "If she leaves, I want to know where."
They nod and then disappear in opposite directions.
I keep walking, checking every corner, every door. No traces. But then - a darting shadow, further back. I follow faster now. The distance gets smaller.
And then I see her again.
She is barefoot. She is holding her shoes in her hand - they have obviously gotten in the way. The thin fabric of her dress flutters slightly, her breathing is fast, but she's not running in panic. She holds herself together.
Despite everything: calm.
Her silhouette disappears around a final corner. I follow - and stop abruptly.
Dead end and she is standing right in front of me in a trap.
I walk on slowly. Her back is turned towards me. She stands still, her shoulders slightly slumped, as if she's thinking about how to get out of this situation. No sound, no movement.
I walk towards her.
"It's rude to turn your back on someone," I say quietly. "Aishii."
My footsteps echo dully on the asphalt until I stop right in front of her.
She has now turned around. The distance between us is greater than I would like.
Her gaze is clear, alert, but also dangerous. She stands there like someone who is thinking of fleeing, but not in fear and like someone ... who is trapped but won't give up.
I look at her for a moment. Barefoot, her dress slightly out of place from running, her shoes firmly in her hand. Still - no sign of panic. Interesting.
"You're faster than you look," I say quietly, a hint of sharpness in my voice.
Then, in a calm voice, she asks, "Why did you follow me?"
No trembling, no uncertainty. She holds my gaze as if she doesn't want me to take control. Even now, in a narrow alley, barefoot and with no escape route, she looks like she still has an ace up her sleeve. I'm definitely not going to let her go.
I take a moment to answer. I shove my hands in my pockets and tilt my head slightly.
"Because you don't fit in here." A simple, honest judgment. "Not because of the dress. Or your drink. But because of the way you look."
I see a tiny muscle move in her jaw - as if she's stifling a smile. She raises an eyebrow, then smiles - not sweet, not friendly, but slightly mocking.
"And that's supposed to be your reason? My look?" Her voice is calm, but a soft, barely audible laugh follows. Dry and challenging. "Don't you have anything else better to do than chase women halfway across the city for their looks?"
She plays it down, like someone who wants to stay in control. But I know that there is calculation behind every syllable. She will be mine without any ifs or buts.
"If a look is worth a thousand words - then yes," I reply calmly, almost casually. "Especially when someone is trying too hard to hide something."
I lean forward a little, just enough for her to hear me clearly again - no room for escape, not even in my mind.
"And you've been trying pretty hard not to be today."
She doesn't say anything for a moment, but her gaze remains fixed.
I let the next sentence drop very slowly, watching every movement on her face.
"And when you saw me... you left immediately."
No reproach in my voice. Just a statement. One that reveals more than it wants to.
She crosses her arms and seems unimpressed. Then she says in this calm, mocking tone: "What woman wouldn't leave a club if a man first stares at her ... and then runs after her? I mean, it almost sounds like a bad thriller."
I raise an eyebrow. She's clever, quick-witted and mercilessly honest. It's not the first time she's done this, that's for sure.
I let my gaze wander briefly over her face - I take in every movement, every little shift in her posture. And yet: no fear. Just control.
"Then you're probably only dealing with superficial, money-hungry women. If I'm honest - that would explain a lot. You're not attractive at all. Rather... disappointing," she says calmly.
I laugh dryly. "If you say something like that again, I won't be so gracious, Aishii."
I stare at her. This woman irritates me.
"No one has ever made fun of me like you," I tell her curtly.
Before she can say anything, I grab her arm - not roughly, but firmly. My grip is firm enough for her to realize that I'm serious. And yet carefully. Not in a way that would make her scream. Not yet, I'd go to a different place for that, or rather a different room.
She tenses slightly, but doesn't tear herself away.
"So much fire under all this facade," I murmur to myself rather than to her. "I wonder what you really want."
I hold her arm, a moment too long. Then I take a step closer. Not threateningly - more like someone who wants to know how far they can go.
"You will come with me," I say quietly, little more than a command. I tug gently on her arm, as if I'm trying to get her to go with me. Not here. Not now. But somewhere where there are fewer eyes.
But then she slaps my hand away. Quickly and precisely. Her eyes flash, cold as glass.
"Don't touch me." The voice calm, but sharp as a cut. No trembling. No hesitation.
"Only when you introduce yourself. I'm sure you already know who I am and yet you show no sign of fear. Who are you?" I say so quietly that only she could hear.
"It will be more fun if you find out who I am. And I'm sure we'll definitely meet again. Maybe then you'll find out who I am," she says with a playful smile.
Does she really think I'm going to let her go now, after everything she's done to me?
"What do you mean we'll meet again soon? You will come with me."
My hand slides from her chin up to her cheek. Her skin is warm - soft, but full of tension. I can feel her breath on my skin, her gaze firmly drilled into mine. Everything about her screams for control, for rebellion. And damn it, that's exactly what excites me.
But before I can say anything else, it happens.
With a quick jerk, she slaps my hand away from her face - hard, almost contemptuously.
Then, without hesitation, she rams her knee into my stomach with full force.
I can't breathe. I sink half a step forward, gasp briefly - surprised, maybe even briefly impressed, but definitely angry. The pain burns sharply under my ribs, but I stay on my feet.
She seizes the moment and runs off - barefoot, wild and determined. Like an animal that has no fear of the hunter.
Before I can straighten up, she has already disappeared, vanished between the shadows of the night, into one of the many dark alleyways.
Then I see her.
Her shoes.
They lie there, carelessly dropped, like a silent sign of her victory. As if she had left them behind on purpose - like a message.
I stare down at them. Then I straighten up and slowly pull my jacket on.
"You really dared," I murmur quietly, pushing a dark smile to my lips.
"Good, then let's start properly."