Innocence

An alternate universe Rurouni Kenshin fanfic.

 

Chapter Two- "Snowbird"

 

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"What have you done to me?"

 

-Anita Baker-

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She took her time pacing around the silver pole in the middle of the room, several tendrils of her dark hair cascading around her face, swaying like curtains of silk before her well-shaped eyes with every step. Her tiny feet picked their way carefully across the slippery floor, her movements reminiscent of an egret on an icy pond in wintertime. Her bird-like countenance was further suggested by the short robe of white chiffon that floated down to her bare thighs, highlighting, rather than concealing, the teddy of ivory lace that clung to her every curve like a second skin.

 

On any other dancer, the outfit would have seemed garish and out of place, but this little lady possessed skin the color of snow itself, so much so that it took a moment for the viewer to discern where bare flesh ended and whisper-thin fabric began. Only when her hips began to sway in time with the beat did the material float upward a little before slowly making it's way down again to brush her skin in a feathery caress. Flowing, teasing, again and again until it's undulating movements were enough to have any man in the crowd below her hypnotized by its grace.

 

"She's something else, isn't she?" a feminine voice murmured above the music.

 

The tall man at her side nodded in silent agreement, his intelligent black eyes focused not on the dancer, but the faces of the men who were under her spell. Their stunned expressions both intrigued and humored him to no end, a little more and he was sure that most of them would be literally drooling. Pity. He was probably the only one in the room who was completely immune to the dancers' charms. It just wasn't…his cup of tea.

 

"Hm…" he hummed noncommittally, "If you like that sort of thing, I suppose she's alright."

 

Misao grinned as she playfully punched the young bartender on the arm. She knew that Mashiro liked Yuki just as much as any other employee in the bar. It was impossible not to. For someone whose movements and physical appearance echoed that of a winter chill, ironically Yuki was the one who brought a constant ray of sunshine into the establishment. Within her she held a sort of childish innocence that threw someone off their guard long enough for her claim a little piece of their hearts for her own. Once, a rowdy newcomer had made the mistake of insulting her while on stage, narrowly missing her temple when he threw a beer bottle in her direction. Before Mashiro or any of the bouncers could lay a hand on the guy, a handful of regulars had picked him up by his collar and solemnly led him outside for an ass kicking that he would never forget. No one insulted their "Oujo-sama" like that and got away with it.

 

Mashiro stopped polishing the tumbler in his hand, instead holding it up to examine the way it glinted in the artificial light. "So, Lady Jade," he murmured from behind a coy smile, "I heard you gave quite a private show the other night, yourself."

 

Misao's cheeks heated a little as she narrowed her eyes at her friend's use of her stage name, "Oh yeah?" she asked, her voice mildly defensive.

 

"Mmmhm…" Mashiro murmured again, never taking his eyes off the glass, "I must say though, it's been awhile since you've done that 'sliding down the pole backwards' trick. It must've been something special."

 

Misao snorted and tossed her head in mock-conceit, "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't." she said haughtily.

 

Mashiro cut his eyes at her for a second before bringing the glass down to its respective place on the bar. He had known Misao long enough to know that she'd tell him everything, whether she wanted to or not. As if to prove his point, the young woman sighed loudly, a definite prelude to a serious confession.

 

"I guess I wasn't feeling quite myself that night." she confessed, her pretty smile wavering a little under the weight of her words. "Besides…" she added quickly to save face, "The birthday boy was kinda cute, plus he was a total virgin. I couldn't tell if he was pleased or downright scared of me. It was way too easy not to play with his mind just a little bit."

 

Mashiro nodded slightly, raising one perfectly groomed eyebrow at his friend's words. "I see." he murmured.

 

On stage, Yuki took her final bow and began collecting the banknotes that had begun piling up on the floor from the moment she had taken her first step toward the limelight. Flashing a bright smile in the direction of her regular fan-section, she disappeared behind the curtains at the back.

 

Seeing her leave, Misao took a deep breath. She had been doing this for quite a while now, but still she found that the first step toward the pole was always the hardest. Suppressing the involuntary butterflies in her stomach she flashed a confident smile to her friend behind the bar.

 

"Showtime." He prompted, never volunteering a trace of emotion as he reached behind the counter for another glass.

 

Slitting her eyes slightly in conspiratorial amusement, Misao pushed her hand against the bar, causing the stool she was sitting in to swivel in the direction of the crowd.

 

"Alright boys!" she boldly proclaimed, "Enough of that flowery stuff. How many of you are here for a real show?"

 

A chorus of hoots and wolf-whistles erupted as she sauntered between the tables and up the steps that led to the main stage. She had been wearing a long overcoat over her costume as she sat with Mashiro at the bar. Now she slowly slipped it off her shoulders, tantalizing her audience even before the music had had a chance to begin. Casting the garment aside, she strode up to the pole, resting one hand on its smooth surface as one would caress the skin of a lover.

 

"Hit it." She murmured.

 

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A whole week flew by in a blur of board meetings and financial reports. Being one of the two heirs to his father's company, Soujiro had had no choice but to return to work the day after his revelation as if nothing had ever happened at all. Even so, the now-accustomed pressures of his work did little to tear his mind away from that moment where it remained like a butterfly hopelessly trapped in the web of time. For all that he was worth, financially and spiritually both, he could not retrieve that part of himself that chose to linger in that instant, happy to remain lost in the emerald depths of his unnamed lady's eyes.

 

 Her name. What was he willing to give to know it? Twice he caught himself considering the option of hiring someone professional to find this precious bit of information and bring it back to him, like King Arthur waiting upon his throne to be presented with the Holy Grail. But no. He would not, could not bring himself to exercise his power in this way. In that moment of confusion her mask of confidence had momentarily slipped down, revealing to him an even younger woman that he would never have recognized had it not been for the paradoxical design etched into the flesh of her back. To pursue a creature of that much complexity and beauty with such underhanded, scheming ways would be like thrusting an arrow into the throat of a fawn. Besides, she did not even seem to recognize him as he stood, dumbfounded in the middle of the dancing dinner crowd. Why should she anyway? He was nothing to her, nothing at all.

 

"And yet," he silently mourned, "She's taken over my mind."

 

He had met girls before. Beautiful ones who were as rich and powerful as he, ambitious, controlling little minxes who calculated company profits in the back of their minds as they paraded themselves for his pleasure and (hopefully) his nuptial interest. There were nice ones too, just as attractive and truly willing to forge real relationships with him based on a love other than that of his parents' money. However, they too were crushed, this time not by their own greed, but by their inability to compete with the world he belonged to. They simply could not keep up with a world that demanded that they always had to be at their very best at all times. Love needs room to be imperfect and that kind of environment left it very little place in which to flourish. Under that pressure, normal, little fights that would have ultimately strengthened the bond between male and female became blown out of proportion, providing the perfect opportunity for these poor girls to turn tail and run for their sanity. That sort of reaction had left him exactly where he was, lonely and inexperienced, pining after a woman who had only looked upon him with desire because she had been paid to do so.

 

If his mother knew of what he was thinking at that moment, she would throw a fit unlike any other known to mankind and demand that he be irrevocably engaged to the first eligible young woman of his class that she laid eyes on. She would not understand what he felt. He had tried his best to love a girl like that, but none of them had had the fortitude to survive the life that was handcrafted for him since the day of his birth. Truth be told, there were days when even he doubted that he had what it took to go on living up to everyone else's expectations. It was for this reason he loved his only sibling so very much. Unlike himself, Yumi wanted no part of the praise of others. She did as she damned well liked whenever she felt like doing it and there would always be a perfectly manicured one-finger salute for anyone who cared to audibly disagree.

 

Maybe he should ask her for some advice on this one. If there were anyone who would even remotely understand his new penchant for high society Russian roulette it would be her. And to besides, whom would it hurt? He certainly was not going to divulge any details on just who his "mystery lady" was and even if she did eventually find out (a certainty in itself) all he would suffer for it would be the arch of her eyebrows and whispered encouragements of "Way to go Sou-chan!"

A playful, sheathed attack on his ego would be more than a fair payment for the advice that only his big sister could give. She was, after all, a professional when it came to the thrill of the chase.

 

A little silver cell phone briefly jangled out its rendition of Bonnie Pink's "It's Gonna Rain" from its corner on the large artist's desk in Yumi's brightly lit apartment before being picked up by a paint-speckled hand.

 

"Hai, moshi-moshi?" a distant, feminine voice breathed into the receiver.

 

"Hey, big sis."

 

"Ah!" Yumi exclaimed as her countenance instantly brightened, "What's up lil' bro?"

 

Soujiro's fingers instinctively curled toward the palm of his hand, "Nothing much," he lied, "Just holding up the fort until you decide to come back to us."

 

An audible snort echoed through the speaker as she raised her pencil again, "Not likely," she declared, "So, are you going to tell me what's really wrong with you or are we going to pussyfoot around it for a few moments more?"

 

Busted. He should have known better than to chicken out, it only raised her attention anyway.

 

"Um…" he stalled, "You see, I have this…problem…"

 

"Uh-huh?"

 

"If there was say…someone that you don't know very well…but you would like to get to know…but you don't exactly come from the same background…"

 

"Holy shit," the brunette casually swore, "I do believe my little brothers in love with a commoner. How'd you manage that one?"

 

"Ah," he murmured, thankful that his sister could not see his blush, "Let's just say we met through a mutual friend."

 

"Well it's about time," Yumi declared, "I was thisclose to thinking that Mom had turned you into one of them after all. Good to see that my efforts weren't in vain."

 

Soujiro flushed even more deeply, "Are you going to help me or not?" he impatiently whined.

 

"Alright, alright, keep your pants on!" Yumi scolded him, "Well, since this girl doesn't know anything about the high life you're used to living, why don't you just ask her out? Have a drink or something, maybe sing a little karaoke. Anything but that fancy-schmansy stuff you did with the others. If you don't let her in on the whole picture gradually, she'll run like hell before she even gets a chance to know you. Not that anyone could blame her if she did."

 

"Hey!"

 

"Oh, you know what I mean," she said, "You're as adorable as can be, but let's face facts, the position you're forced to hold is more than a little intimidating. Just take her out and have some fun, treat her less like a lady and more like…an equal. Trust me, real chicks love that."

 

"I guess I have no choice." he said resignedly.

 

"Hey, I'm your only sister, would I lead you astray?"

 

"Of course not…Thanks sis."

 

"Anytime. Talk back soon, ok?"

 

"Sure thing. Love you."

 

"Love you too, Little Bit."

 

Click!

 

For several moments afterward Soujiro stared at the phone in his hand, contemplating what his sister had said. After a while, he sighed and stood up, rolling his plush chair away from the heavy oak desk in his office. Looking down, he caught sight of himself on the surface of the highly polished wood. Every fold of his designer suit fell just where it was supposed to, lending him an air of importance and intimidation that worked well in the world of business, but this project certainly wasn't about business.

 

"Looks like I have some dressing down to do." he mused aloud.

 

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