𝕵𝖎𝖏𝖎 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖕ō || Fukuzawa Yukichi x Reader

The Dance Of Peitho

A yawn escaped your lips, rising past the dryness of your throat and your parched tongue. You sat upright from the comfort of your bed, blinking back the leftover exhaustion after a deep slumber and settling into a steady state of consciousness. Your hands caressed the soft sheets, which were softer than how you remembered them to be. Streams of sunlight filtered through the translucent curtains and the air was colder than usual; you wondered why. As of current, it was the season of summer.

To your left, the view outside the window entertained your droopy eyes with the bright blue sky—young and still and calming. The scintillating rays of sun flushed the city of Yokohama with an amber glow.

To your right, much to your confusion, was not your usual wallpaper in view. Instead, you were greeted by the sight of a closed oak door. The faintest hint of running water could be heard from the other side. It pattered along the tiled floor in a rhythmic beat that sent your pulse shaking. A cold lick ran down your spine, shivering to the horror of the unknown contingency you found yourself in. Until the beating of your heart coalesced with the rapid succession of water.

... You didn't remember having an extra door in your room.

Your stomach dropped, caving in and eating itself like the situation called for desperate measures. Like you somehow awoke as a ticking bomb that could only explode as a futile means of escape. The fog in your brain was muddy and altogether too much. It tethered you to the language of pathetic incoherence, which was a paradox in and of itself. But your fog-induced brain managed to pull a single thought out of the eclipse of rationale: you needed to leave. Now.

You checked if there were any restraints on each of your limbs.

You pulled the blanket that enveloped your body.

You patted your arms and legs for any sign of injuries or broken bones ...

And that was when you realized you were naked. No wonder it was cold.

Since when did you sleep naked?

An even better question to ask yourself was where the hell were you right now because, needless to say, this surely wasn't your room. Your head pounded with the multitude of questions swirling above like a dark cloud that was about to hail a thunderstorm. Or an avalanche waiting for one more drop of snow to begin its march to destruction. Either way, you were totally fucked. Clasping your hand to support your head, flashbacks waved through your muzzy brain.

Flashbacks of last night.

Flashbacks of how you got those deep purple marks on your thighs.

Oh, God ...

[4 days ago]

"Thank you," Fukuzawa exclaimed as you opened the door to the backseat for him. After he climbed inside and settled on the cushioned leather seat, you went around the vehicle to reach the driver's side. It didn't take long for you to pull the four-wheeler out of the parking lot.

You had been waiting for his arrival for about two hours. The president of the Armed Detective Agency—your employer, Fukuzawa Yukichi, had to attend a meeting in this high-rise building in Kawasaki. The ride here was short, spanning only 25 minutes long, but the meeting duration felt like ages.

There was no authorized medium to complain, though, because this was your job. Two years ago—simultaneously a lifetime and one calendar away—you were nothing but a mere miscreant scamming jewelry stores and pawn shops. Your favorite crime to commit, however, was stealing from the confiscated items and lost-and-found corners in airports. It was the easiest thing to do, for obvious reasons—even the detectives thought so too. But then your life drastically took a turn when you bumped into a certain acquaintance of yours—a past classmate to be exact. You were in the middle of swindling heavy diamond earrings when someone suddenly tried to stop you.