The Night Bird's Plea

Chapter 11: Mistletoe

A sprig of holly hung from the doorway of the kitchen. Three jolly berries surrounded by four cut-throat leaves, gleaming above two desolate souls desperately in need of reuniting.

Kotori grinned at first, but it waned as the realistic side of her argued that this was another one of Tobi's antics. The likely outcome of this scenario was him pressing his mask to her cheek like it constituted a real kiss, then taking her home. Maybe, if she were oh so lucky, he'd ask her on another date. Or luckier, discover what color her panties were.

He dropped his gaze from the mistletoe to look at her, curling his forefinger in and letting his hand fall to his side. Emotions obscured. Keeping her in the dark.

She filled her lungs with drunken bravery and confronted him, "So, are you going to kiss me, or what?" His curious charcoal eye traveled the contour of her coy features arced in a challenge. A single raised brow daring him to act.

Tobi remained statuesque. A step away. Too far to reasonably kiss, and he didn't move. Didn't try to close the distance between their lips.

Just as the roiling waves of confidence crashed to pitiful twinges of shame for genuinely believing he would give in to her one trivial request, he spoke.

"It can only last for one night."

"One night," she muttered. She averted her gaze to the proverbial line in the sand he drew, wondering just how deep he buried the lie into thinking he could walk from a kiss, let alone from the implication of more. Kisses did not require an entire night. He was alluding to a true connection. One with strings attached. "One night. Mask stays on. Any more rules?"

"I'm serious, Kotori."

She scoffed. "I've lived a life of rules. I enjoy breaking them."

"I mean it. It can only last-"

She snatched his sweater, fingers clawed. Digging into the coarse knit fibers. Wrenching it to her fists. Craving the friction burn lighting her skin on fire. She snapped their hips together, stunning the breath out of them both; thrilled by the painful impact of her soft body colliding with his hard one.

Standing on her tiptoes, she met his infuriating eye and murmured against his mask, mouth brushing the engraved swirls separating them. "Stop with the cowardly words and ruin me with your lips." Shallow drags of air filled what little space she left. At the end of her sentence. Between their bodies.

Tobi took too long to act. Her legs wobbled. The arches of her feet ached. The joints in her hands whined. He met her gaze and answered not in words, but in silence. Dark eye vigilant in its impassive journey to make her feel like a fool.

Like that, she loosened her grip. Rejected once again.

Biting down on her tongue, she began her retreat before the liquid humiliation spilled. But he had other plans. He raised his hands. Slid them into her vision. Centimeters from her awaiting face. An ordinary gesture from anyone else, but it had her frozen on the spot.

One by one he tugged on the tips of his left glove. Yanking in short measures. Exposing his tanned wrist, tendons contracting as he pulled the leather over the wide, smooth expanse of the back of his hand. Offering flashes of his palm. Elongating the seconds, keeping her on edge until his fingers were on display.

He dropped the glove to the floor. The residual warmth blanketed her toes.

It was a relatively normal hand as far as shinobi go. Marred with thin scars and calluses.

Tobi switched to his other hand. He pinched the fingertips and removed it, this time slower. Bending time to his will. Drinking in her reaction. Struggling with a vulnerability he wasn't aware lurked there after years of not caring about his appearance.