Chapter Text
Tonight will be the very first night they spend together. Earlier in the day, Aiko chained herself to Fumi.
Naturally, Fumi is opposed to the idea, but it's not like she could refuse when she's supposed to be recovering from her suicide attempt. Regrettably, she’ll have to sacrifice her privacy to get out of here — that much she learnt whilst confined.
Aiko, per contra, is particularly fond of the idea, for she has a plan — an ingenious strategy to lure Fumi into a false sense of security and, when she lets her guard down, to seize her completely. Of course, Aiko is aware that this won't be easy; it will require ample time and patience, virtues with which the woman is, fortunately, blessed.
Having bid the butler goodnight, Aiko leisurely leads her "patient" to their quarters on one of the top floors of the new, near-complete palace. Feigning courtesy, she unlocks and holds open the door. No words pass between the two as Fumi reluctantly advances, with an odd feeling of anxiety festering within. Once inside her new quarters, she takes in the surroundings, finding herself inside a small, rather bare sitting room. A fancy, swirl-patterned beige wallpaper covers the walls, and a similarly-patterned beige carpet protects the floorboards. The most attention-grabbing objects include a crooked beige settee situated behind a coffee table, and in the left upper corner of the room, a mahogany desk leaning against the wall, upon which sits countless amounts of unidentifiable papers. To the right side of that desk lies another wooden door. In fraught silence still, Aiko locks the first door behind them. Slowly, she slinks up to Fumi, eyeing her up and down in coarse contemplation. Yes, she muses to herself, biting back a smirk, she shall do nicely. The woman's light footsteps remain unnoticed by the oblivious teenager until a hand is placed upon the small of her back; in response, Fumi jumps out of her skin, whipping around to face her elder. With a most bewildered expression, she takes a step backwards.
"Ah," Aiko utters monotonously, furling her outstretched arm, "have I frightened you?"
"Yes," Fumi replies with a certain hauteur, "you have. Don't do that again."
"My apologies." The businesswoman gives a slight bow. The corner of Fumi's mouth twitches as she holds back a grimace. "You did not seem to be advancing. I only wished to encourage you."
"I was just having a look around. I'm perfectly capable of moving my own two feet," Fumi says, beginning to demonstrate this capability.
Aiko chooses not to respond with words. Instead, she simply follows in her younger's footsteps, soon taking the lead so she may unlock the door in front of them. Fumi is hostile to unexpected physical contact, she notes.
What a hindrance. That ingrained hostility may be difficult to work past.
They traipse into the bedroom without issue. Once more, Fumi observes her environment. The design on the walls and the carpeted floor is the same as the one in the sitting room. There's only one bed, with wooden bedside cabinets at each side. Two wardrobes lie against either wall.
Curiously, there's also a radiator; indeed, this interior design seems incredibly Western. These dwellings are a little smaller than what Fumi expected, but she figures that shouldn't be an issue since she shouldn’t spend too much time within them.
"Um..." Fumi begins, "can I get ready for bed?" She asks, unsure of how things are going to work, what with this chain.
"Of course," Aiko replies in a voice uninflected.
That's not a very helpful response, Fumi thinks.
"Where might I find a bathroom?"
Aiko gestures to their right. "Through that door."
"Oh, an en-suite? Convenient!" Fumi observes in a particularly jocund tone.
"I thought so too."
"You're going to have to come in with me, right?" She inquires, growing tenser with each passing second.
"I cannot take my eyes off of you, lest you commits sucide," Aiko says monotonously.
"I am not sucidal!"
The detective stares at her younger with a blank expression, ignoring her fervent denial. Fumi huffs, and with little further thought, turns around in defeat and ventures into the bathroom.
To her right sits a sink, above which lies a mirrored cabinet. To the far left of that, a toilet. Against the wall to Fumi's left, a bath and shower combo. To its right, a tall, mahogany cabinet with glass windows containing towels, toiletries, medicines, and other sundries.
Tentatively, Fumi steps forward, then leans against the sink, staring into the mirror.
Little narcissist, Aiko derides in her thoughts, looming in the doorframe.
Another sigh escapes Fumi's lips. Delaying no longer, she opens the cupboard overhead and looks inside for a moment before retrieving from it some makeup wipes. She doesn't use much: just some eyeliner, mascara, and foundation. She put her makeup on for the first time in over a month that afternoon, then lamented about how her technique had gotten rusty, what with her lying in the hospital bed for so long. Indeed, Rosalia herself uses deep red lipstick and eyeshadow , for it's all apart of her Stygian sham. Aiko is a character she especially enjoys playing. Rosalia revels in deceit, toying with the pathetic hoi polloi as her true self lurks in the crepuscular shadows. This persona is but a hobby — nothing more, nothing less. Ah, but this character is not one of her own construction. Her parents can be credited with the idea.
"Which one should I use?" Fumi breaks the silence, pointing at the toothbrushes.
"Whichever you like. They are both as yet untouched."
She decides to take the toothbrush with red stripes rather than black, continuing as normal. Aiko continues to scrutinise her every move. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Though, Rosalia knows she mustn't let her guard down, for Fumi Yasura remains the only person who managed to escape her cluthes. Everything about this girl seems flawless: her life, her excuses...her everything. But from here on out, Aiko is to be her only excuse. Aiko is going to make her into her partner, no matter how far she has to go to get an agreement to slip from that pretty mouth of Fumi's. Aiko wagers that will pour out if she has Fumi right where she wants her. No, actually, she changes her mind. She is going to make the agreement pour out, little by little until Fumi agrees to everything, the thought alone is satisfying. Aiko wonders how long she can amuse herself until she gets her prisoner to agree out of sheer frustration and unabating desire. Ah, but she shan't get ahead of herself. All shall transpire in due course.
"Um...Aiko?" Fumi pipes up again.
"Yes?"
"I'm done in here," she reveals as she returns the used toothbrush to its holder.
"Indeed?"
For a moment, unfeigned bafflement spreads over Fumi's face. What kind of response is that?!
"Can I change clothes?" she asks, running her fingers over her knuckles and feeling the bones beneath the skin.
"I'll allow it," Aiko replies.
"I mean I want to change right now," Fumi says candidly, almost intimidated by the ogling ruby eyes staring her down as if she's nothing but a slab of meat. She swallows, suddenly feeling very insecure.
"Surely, you would be more comfortable changing your garbs in the bedroom?"
Fumi simply nods. She wants to say "stop looking at me like that", but holds her tongue as she knows she should. For a second, she zones out, absorbed by these fretful thoughts, and is only brought back into reality as the room in which she stands is bathed in darkness. Momentarily, confusion racks her, but she soon realises it was just Aiko turning off the light. Exhaling a shaky breath, she follows her elder into the bedroom.
"You, um..." she trails off as she closes the door behind her, losing her words.
"I what, Fumi?" Aiko pushes.
"You need to remove these cuffs," Fumi elaborates.
"This is your plan, is it not?"
"Pardon?"
"To get me to remove the handcuffs, so you can kill yourself."
"I can't change my clothes with them on."
"You must know that you cannot run even if you try," Aiko warns. "In fact, I rather think an escape attempt would result in nothing more than an increased confinement time."
"Alright, I get it!" Fumi exclaims, wishing Aiko would shut up about the confinement time for once. She knows she's not suicidal, and only wants Aiko to see this too.
"You are yelling.”
"Because I'm tired and you’re annoying me!" the younger of the two spits.
"Very well," Aiko all but jeers. "No need to get pouty."
Visibly irked by this comment, Fumi simply glares. This is going to be a hell of a lot more than she first bargained for, though she shouldn't be surprised, for she’s never been able to understand the extent of Aiko’s ludicrous ideas.
All of a sudden, cold fingers curl around Fumi's wrist. She quickly recoils, withdrawing her hand.
Her own reaction surprises her. Why is she so jittery as of late?
"Do you want me to rid you of these chains or not?"
Fumi is taken aback by Aiko's sudden change of tone. On one hand, Fumi finds it offensive, but on the other, she doesn't really mind. Indifferently, she nods in response to the question posed, presenting Aiko with her wrist once again. She's unchained without issue, but the following moments are awkward. Aiko stares.
"Please, don't watch me," Fumi requests.
"Why? Are you thinking of killing yourself tonight?"
"Please, grant me at least a little privacy," Fumi entreats.
"You value your privacy a lot," Aiko drones. "Why could that be?"
"Oh, come on! It's a reasonable request!"
The elder of the two notices something, something difficult for the untrained ear to pick up — an ever so slight whine in Fumi's voice. Certainly very, very bratty. Ah, but so enticing. Wait...
That shouldn’t even be crossing her mind!
Retaining her self-discipline, Aiko clears her throat, ridding herself of unseemly thoughts.
"Go on, then," she says casually.
And just like that, she walks away, making for the bed. Fumi hadn't expected her to acquiesce so easily. For a short while, she keeps an eye on that woman, who grabs a laptop from a drawer under the bed, then takes a seat upon the duvet. She rests her laptop against her thighs, then opens it and turns it on. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches the girl. If she wants Fumi to agree, she has to build up trust; trust is crucial, only when she has built up Fumi's trust in her will she get more serious. If Aiko wants to win, she has to be forbearing and mindful, for Fumi is not, by any means, a foolish delinquent. She is calculated and clever; cold and conniving. She knows exactly what she is doing.
When Fumi is all set, she finally comes to her senses. She is going to have to share a bed with someone.
She gulps, trying to relieve her parched throat. That loathsome feeling inside her only exacerbates; it roots around in her viscera, filling her hollow stomach with nausea. For a moment, she feels like she might actually be sick, so she covers her mouth with haste. Deep breaths, she tells herself. Why am I acting like this? I have to keep control.
In time, she mollifies herself, at least enough to face her fear. Having steadied her breathing, she turns off the light, letting the room go dark. Her elder looks up from the refulgent screen of the laptop as soon as the room dims. It turns out 'getting changed' meant throwing on a loose t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Aiko watches, hawk-eyed, as her dressed-down patient coyly crawls into bed. She really is nervous, isn't she?
How very curious.
Fumi's heart races inside the confines of her ribcage. When it comes to these kinds of things, she’s shy, and well aware of that fact. The last time she shared a bed with someone, she was a child. A distant earthquake had woken her; she was petrified, so she cuddled up with her parents. Well, she ponders, there's a first for everything, right? Before she lets herself relax, she holds out her wrist. Immediately, Aiko understands this gesture. She reels in the chain and soon has her younger enfettered once again. Fumi mutters a thank you, then lies down and settles in for the night.
Unsurprisingly, Aiko doesn’t entertain a response, silently getting back to work.
Fumi watches on as her companion works, bewildered by the fact that she never seems to take breaks. That gets her wondering if she can change that; surely, staying up all night like this can't be healthy...
"Aiko?"
Fumi doesn't even realise she's said anything before Aiko replies.
"Could you say that again?"
"...Eh?"
"You spoke."
"Oh," Fumi moves the duvet away from her mouth, "I did?"
"Yes, you did." Aiko purposely slips out of character.
"What is this?"
"What do you mean?" She questions back with artificial artlessness.
"You've never spoken to me like this before," Fumi states, shifting her weight.
Aiko lets out a small chuckle, shocking her younger. She's never heard Aiko laugh before; it sounds so unnatural, but so...human? She often neglects to acknowledge that Aiko, too, is only human.
How intriguing Aiko finds this situation. So intriguing she finds it, in fact, that she shuts the laptop, sets it aside atop her nightstand, then joins Fumi under the covers. Her younger's widened eyes flit to and fro, revealing the fright she feels within.
"I do apologise," the woman says, simulating stupidity, "does the language I use bother you? I rather thought, since we two will be living together for quite some time, that shedding formalities was an appropriate action to take."
"I don't mind, really," Fumi explains, averting her eyes from Aiko's. "It's just a bit different."
"'A bit different'?" Aiko parrots. "Speaking of different, you're like a whole new person tonight," she marvels, thinking out loud.
"Says you," Fumi ripostes, meeting Fumi's gaze once again.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Aiko asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
"You talk about me acting different, but you yourself aren't usually like this."
"How am I acting?"
"Like..." Fumi hesitates, "...you know me," she eventually spits out. "You're speaking to me as if I'm a good friend all of a sudden."
"Oh, are we not friends?" Aiko inquires innocently, donning false puppy-dog eyes.
"You are forcibly preventing me from suicide," Fumi reminds her.
"That's why we're in bed together, Fumi."
"I know," she huffs.
"You consented to this, as did I," Aiko spells things out, patronising and pontifical.
"I know," Fumi repeats.
"So, there shouldn’t be any issues, should there?" the woman asks, her radiating air of superiority permeating the entire room.
"No," Fumi confirms, trying to ignore the fact that she feels like a rat is gnawing at her insides, "there shouldn't be."
"But there is.”
"What do you mean?"
"You're nervous," Aiko states, sounding so sure of herself.
“Huh?”
"Why is that, I wonder?"
"I don't know what you mean.”
"Don't play dumb," Aiko says dismissively, her fault-finding gaze piercing right through Fumi's flimsy masquerade of nescience. "You've no one to impress, not in here."
"I'm not nervous.”
"Then what ails you?"
"...It's only nerves," Fumi admits, discouraged by the enigmatic eyes that seem riveted to her. "They'll calm, given time. Just forget about it and let me sleep."
Once more, Aiko emits a chuckle. The rich, ricocheting sound further irritates the younger, for this is not the Aiko with whom she thought herself to be so familiar with.
"Is there anything I can do to ease your nerves tonight?" Aiko purrs, affecting sultry tones.
Fumi averts her gaze from the pillow she's staring at to give her elder the side-eye. What?!
"What exactly are you planning?" she questions back, putting herself on the qui vive.
"To ease your nerves, as I said," her elder utters, dropping her modulated voice. It's still much too early for that.
"Who are you?"
"What?" Fumi all but scoffs.
"You're not Aiko," Fumi says with certainty.
"No, of course not," her elder affirms. "I'm Rosalia," she whispers as if she's afraid she'll be overheard.
"Disgusting." Fumi looks away again, grimacing slightly. All this time, Aiko has been lying to her?!
"What is?"
"The way you're acting," the teenager snaps, her gray-coloured eyes shooting daggers at Aiko.
"You'd best get used to it," Aiko all but growls, glaring right back.
"Really, it's revolting," her younger rehashes, gnashing her teeth.
"Don't be cheeky, now."
With that sentence, Aiko lowers the pitch of her voice, threatening the younger. To her delight, Fumi responds just the way she wants her to — she shuts up and settles down.
What a boring façade Aiko deems this — acting all amicable and cordial. She regrets that Fumi hadn't accepted her offer, for things would have surely moved so much faster if the girl had.
Oh, well, Aiko laments. We'll get there, in time.
Truthfully, she thinks her heir to be nothing but a prideful, haughty, frivolous brat. How she longs to tear down that air of arrogance, to rip this girl apart at the seams! She can tell the threads are already frayed; she’s just got to dig her skilful fingers in and slowly snap them, one by one until their host falls apart. By the time she's broken, she won't even know what hit her. Everything will go as planned in due time, Aiko reminds herself, but she has to start gentle, as this sucidal maniac is but a susceptible child of only sixteen.
And this maniac is so very full of nerves. Even an imbecile can perceive this much.
That feeling of unease lingers dully, making it utterly impossible for the girl to relax. But it's to be expected, right? Since this is a situation she's never found herself in before. Oh, if only she could feign confidence, as usual! It's as though she's metamorphosed into something...weaker?
She's felt weak lately. Enfeebled, even, like a mere popinjay confined to its cage. And now she is free from her cage, she feels like a maltreated canine, needlessly muzzled and restrained by a delusional owner who thinks of him as a danger.
She lets out another sigh. All she wants is to calm her nerves and get some shut-eye. Usually, what she needs is something to hold onto — perhaps a pillow? But she's using her only pillow, and the other...oh.
It hits her, like a ton of bricks.
She has someone to grab onto lying right beside her. Oh, good God, how is she going to get away with that?! Aiko still stares her down with a gaze that says "you are beneath me". Even darkness cannot mask the intensity of that spine-chilling glare. Not withstanding this, Fumi shuffles closer, holding eye contact. She makes sure she doesn't stare; instead, she simply observes. Aiko's expression is emotionless. They exchange gazes for a short while without words, before Fumi thinks fuck it and gives in, wrapping her arms around her elder's waist.
"What's this?" Aiko inquires, tensing up as she prepares to defend herself.
"Please, hold me," Fumi mumbles, making it clear she means no harm. "Just this once."
Haltingly, her elder reciprocates and holds her close to her chest, resting one hand on her back and entwining the other within the albino's locks.
"...Are you alright?"
"You did offer to calm my nerves."
The woman doesn't reply. This is Fumi's definition of 'calming the nerves'? Oh, this is going to be a long night for Aiko. She wonders how long it'll take for this kid to fall asleep so she can pry herself from her grasp. To be in such a position with such an unstable person is nothing new to her, no, but most of those reprobates hadn't dared to try anything like this on the very first night. Aiko hadn't expected this het-up child ever to be so bold. And yet, she doesn't think Fumi is making some kind of tactical move on her. No, that can't be it. Is she seeking comfort? Or...
Oh. She puts two and two together, scolding herself for her folly. How could she not have noticed that sooner!? Fumi's actions make sense now.
Out of sight, she lets herself smirk, poring over how well they will get along. Very well, indeed.