Hiya', kiddos! Just wanted to say that I'm learning so much simply from inserting subtle Japanese culture in this specific story; trying to make it as culturally accurate as possible. Also, this fic will last for a few more chapters.
Also, I'm changing the rating to M for many reasons.
Sorry, I don't like long author notes either. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
Hungrily, I let my waiting tongue drag across her soft, supple skin. Savoring every individual taste, the inexorable mixture of salt with a hint of cortisol and oil and something a little sweeter. This familiar feeling was stronger than even lust.
"Don't make a sound," I breathed against her neck, my lips brushing just under her ear.
It was fairly dark behind this bar. As the fine gravel crunched underneath the soles of my sandals, I decided that I would take her right where she stood.
I felt my kakugan flicker into place of their own accord, and her shocked, muffled scream pierced through the dusty air of the alleyway.
She screamed. I told her not to do that.
"Tsk, tsk. You don't listen, do you?" I whispered, flashing her a wolfish smile as I pulled away from her. With a flick of my wrist, her neck whipped backwards, head ricocheting off of the brick wall.
Ah. Blood wetly seeped through her dark hair, and it smelled divine. Like a meal on a virgin white platter, falling down to its wavering knees on the dirty ground. I inhaled long and deep.
As hungry as I was, I didn't have much time to play with my food.
Her disoriented light-colored eyes looked loony and empty, occupied by her ever-growing fearful pupils. Somehow, I sensed her feeling of betrayal. Reaching down with calm fingers, I jerked her neck sharply to the side, her soft jawline hanging at an atrocious angle.
The woman went limp. I dug in with a much-awaited hunger.
Down on my knees, my hands tore off delicious, thick chunks of gore and shoved it between my eager lips. I didn't bother to whip out my kagune. Her shadowed, slack features jostled atop her snapped neck as my fingers pried open the flesh of her stomach and dove through the membranes of her squelching viscera.
There's the good stuff.
Warm sweet trails trickled down my wrists. Like a newly-severed rubber band, my hands plucked organs from the body's still-warm abdomen with wet snaps. I raised the dripping entrails to my grinning mouth.
This bloodless stranger looked a lot like Naomi. Curvy build, dark shoulder-length hair, modest clothing. Although, the woman lacked a pair of glasses perched ever-so-delicately along the bridge of her freckled nose. It was a shame, really.
She didn't smell as saccharine as Naomi does.
In this primal state, I wondered... would I have greedily ripped open the quick-witted woman just as wide as this stranger, had she been laid out in front of me?
As I chomped on this corpse's feminine bones, I pictured Naomi's sheepish blush patching across her freckled cheeks, and had my answer.
No.
As usual, the narrow streets of the eleventh ward were bustling with early-afternoon crowds. With a book under my arm, I weaved my way between buzzing mopeds and the youthful heartbeats of college students. The buildings were as tall as ever, filled with humans whose scents grouped together too much to pick them apart. One of the structures stood out among the rest.
Jikei General Hospital. I could pick those scents apart.
Naomi was there, assumedly doing her nurse duties. Looks like I'd found what I was looking for.
I hadn't the slightest idea as to when the human's hospital shift ended. Simply strolling in and asking would draw too much attention to myself, and as the primitive leader of Aogiri, that is not a risk that I am willing to take. Carelessness would entail having to snap more necks, and my mask was at organization headquarters. Besides, it was my day off.
And with my hefty meal as of last night, I could afford the time.
I would wait.
Plucking the book out from underneath my arm, I walked through trickling pedestrians and across the street, leaning against an old street tree. At my feet, the ginkgo's fruit sprinkled across the cool shaded pavement, shrivelling to reveal the nut inside. With the heel of my sandal, I stepped on one with a stifled crunch.
Neutral expression intact, I licked the pad of my thumb and flipped through to a dog-eared page of my book. Under the shade of this tree, a warm breeze ran its fingers through my ivory-colored hair and brought with it the aroma of a tender, stumbling toddler. I licked my lips absently.
I could wait here until her shift was over.
Nostrils flaring at her sweet scent, I watched her step down the paved front steps of the hospital. The skies were watercolored with dark, blue-toned twilight; and even from a ghoul's viewpoint, I could admit the sterile blue-gray hue on Naomi's white nurse attire was charming. I clapped my book shut mutedly, tucking it underneath my arm as I kept a watchful eye on her distracted form.
Hurriedly shuffling through her leather messenger bag, her hair shook with every motion of her shoulder. Even across the street with trickling bike-riders passing by, I could hear her impatient little grumble.
The pros of heightened ghoul senses never ceased to outweigh the cons.
She plucked out a key and gripped it tightly between her fingers like some sort of pathetic pocket knife. As her neck angled upwards and looked around, it seemed her eyes locked on me before anything else.
Just slightly, her eyes widened behind the frames of her glasses. A blush crept fitfully across the tops of her cheeks.
Breathing in the honeydipped scent, I almost smiled.
Hands digging deep in the pockets of my khaki shorts, I pushed away from the trunk of the ginkgo tree and began to tread between the road cyclists and over to where she stood.
"Tatara."
"No honorifics?" I teased, monotone. She ignored me.
Her scent was intoxicating up close.
"How did you know my work schedule?"
"I didn't."
She paused. "Then why are you here?"
"Hn," I shrugged apathetically. She thought a moment.
"Could you smell me?" She guessed, perceptive as ever.
"A little," I lied blatantly, straight-faced and unbeknownst to her. In the amount of time that I had waited on her to step out of the building, I had nearly finished the book that was now under my arm. The backs of my knees ached from standing so long in the shade of the ginkgo tree, inhaling strong, scant whiffs of her honeyed blood.
I couldn't admit why I didn't tell Naomi the truth.
She turned and started to stroll slowly away, hips swaying. "Would you like to come over and talk with me?" She uttered, patches of shy redness across her cheeks. It smelled beautiful.
I didn't answer, just silently followed her.
Her chin jutted over her shoulder to look at me, and her lips curled upwards, just barely. We walked like that for a brief moment.
"Do you consider a house key to be a weapon?" I murmured to her after a while, motioning to the key defensively jackknifed between her fingers. She looked down, loosening her grip as her heartbeat fluttered wetly.
"Force of habit," she reasoned. In this lighting, her freckles were barely visible underneath the wiry shadow of her glasses. Her hair moved as she walked along, a few messy strands flicked oddly across her shoulder-length tresses. She twisted the key to her apartment in her small hands.
"It wouldn't work on me."
"I know."
Hands fisting in my pockets, I inhaled slowly. Shoving pedestrians' scents aside, she smelled alluring from every angle. I longed to press my nose to her hairline and suck her in.
For as much of my mind that she was occupying, I could've asked for rent.
Soon enough, she was sticking the key into the tumbler of her lock and twisting it with a click. Door creaking open, we stepped inside, and her nimble fingers felt knowingly along the wall to flick on a small overhead light. I was greeted by the long, swaying leaves of her hanging houseplant.
"Would you like some coffee?" She questioned politely, turning to look at my face before she slipped into her house slippers and around the counter and into her kitchen. A dainty pair of fingers reached up to tuck a light brown piece of hair behind the shell of her ear.
"I'm quite full," I replied, watching her. "But thank you."
I could hear the timid, interested swallow of saliva down the back of her throat.
"When did you eat?" Naomi's voice piqued with curiosity. I pictured myself bent over my last meal, in the alleyway behind the bar. Saliva involuntarily pooled behind my gums.
"Late last night," I answered honestly, setting my book down after taking my hands out of my pockets and resting them on the lip of the counter.
"Hm." She nodded absently before smoothing her hands down the front of her white hospital uniform, brows pulled together with feigned casualness and freckled face calm.
I wanted to see that patchy blush. I wanted to see the uneasiness.
"She looked a lot like you."
Without a beat, her gray eyes widened, fragrantly sweet blood swimming through her capillaries until finally landing on the apples of her cheeks. She looked down, hair fanning across her face as she took a forefinger and thumb to push up her glasses.
Although her concealed face couldn't see it, I smiled.
I couldn't help myself.
"Does that make you uncomfortable?" She didn't answer at first, but I both heard and smelled her heart pick up.
She shook her head. "I'm flattered," she squeaked softly, lifting her head to look at me.
Naked fingernails pulling at the sleeve of her uniform, a thin bundle of hair fell out from behind her ear. The yellow-tinted fluorescent overhead light reflected off the soft curve of her slightly plump lips. There was a defiant, vexing look in her eyes, even from behind the thin frames of her glasses. Without blinking, I pushed away from the counter and let myself step around it, walking to her and placing my hands on the pillowing curve of her waist. Her small frame only made her as tall as a few inches below my shoulders, but when Naomi's eyes looked up at me, cheeks ablaze with pink, I realized it:
I liked her.
"Hnph," I grunted quietly, pushing her backwards until her lower back hit the sink, forcing a small gasp out of her and watching the little flicks of movement that her irises made as she looked from one of my crimson eyes to the other.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to," I whispered, voice gruff as I gripped her waist harder. Pressing the front of my hips to her, I craned down to let my nose brush against the pulse point just underneath her jaw. She tilted her head to allow me more room, her shaky breath ghosting against the sensitive hairs on the back of my neck, making my shoulders quiver with goosebumps. I groaned, letting my chapped lips press a shaky kiss to her sweet-scented skin as my hands slid quickly to the small of her back.
She was beautiful.
"T… Tatara-san," she breathed ardently, her petite hands wandering to the back of my shirt, grabbing it in fistfuls.
She situated her hips against mine, nearly knocking the wind out of me.
"Yes?" My deep voice was muffled against the skin of her neck, my mouth placing open-mouthed kisses there. Naomi didn't speak, just nudged her head against mine until I was looking down at her flushed and freckled complexion again.
"Please," she whispered, tugging my waist impossibly closer. "Just kiss me."
And then her slate-colored eyes were closing and a groan made its way out of my throat, my impatient mouth crashing down onto hers with a hunger that was less familiar to me.
Thanks for reading! Next chapter will probably be uploaded within a week or two because I'll be at a convention. Reviews are welcome.
(づ￣ ³￣)づ