Tricks and Thirst

Seventeen

To your relief, it's a quiet day at your coffee shop. A couple of regular patrons show up, but they don't linger for long. You make good use of the free time to take care of current affairs, pay bills and handle overdue paperwork. It keeps your mind busy, off from the madness that has swept through your life since the start of the week.

Still, now and then, your hands freeze over your keyboard when memories of the previous night surface. Vivid images of the incredibly naughty and delicious things Mori has done to you and you to him mix with fragments of your words and pledge, with the feeling of a shaking Kanako in your arms, then her courageous gaze on the threshold of her room, or the thin-veiled insults spit by her father. 

Despite your best efforts, all of this transforms into a tornado, and before you know it, you are gasping for breath, overwhelmed, clutching your chest while clamping down an urgent need to throw up. Thankfully, there's nobody around to witness your panic attack.

What if Kanako changes her mind?

What if she doesn't?

What will really happen if this crazy plan is successful? Will she ever forgive you for making this choice? What if she feels so hurt, so betrayed that she calls it off, walks out and damns you to hell?

What will I become?

Mori hasn't been very clear about it. Maybe he doesn't know himself, given that he's never done it. 

That's what he says.

You rush to the small bathroom cubicle in the corner of the shop to splash cold water on your feverish face. Glancing up, you stare at your reflection in the mirror.

To your relief - and maybe surprise - you don't look half as bad as you feel. Tired, yes, the deep lines around your mouth drawn by worry can't be missed, but you've seen worse. Just another hard day at the office. Taking deep breaths, you shut your eyes and open them again only after your heart has stopped trying to get out of your chest. 

Locking eyes with yourself, you come to the conclusion that the option to run is still on the table. Leave everything and everyone behind. Maybe not right away, but when they have tied the knot, after making sure Kanako's parents have lost all forms of control over her. It could be the best option - a choice she'd understand. You'd write a confession, tell her everything, and maybe she'd forgive you at some point.

She would definitively try to kill him, though, and the odds are high he wouldn't let her strike him down, and that's not good news.

How about eloping with her? 

The idea sounds incredibly tempting. Not honorable at all, but what is more important? Your word or your life? Honoring a pledge made out of despair, or the unknown fate of your own soul?

A snort and puff of annoyance escape you, and you shook your head at yourself. Always the drama queen, right? Mori might not be the average Joe, but he is no vampire or Hell demon. For all that you know, nothing really terrible will happen, and his bold plan is the perfect solution.

The sound of the bell chime of the front door startles you from your morose reverie.

"Hello? Anyone here?" a woman calls.

"Yes! My apologies, welcome, please take your time," you answer while hurrying to dry the last droplets of water on your face.

Tall and slender, with shoulder-length rich and black hair, a perfect oval face, full lips and deep brown eyes topped by elegant eyebrows, the classic beauty of the newcomer makes you nearly trip on your feet. Your deep-set appreciation and love of beautiful woman betrays you; your cheeks burn so much that you must have turned into a shining beacon. Luckily, the customer doesn't seem to notice, or maybe she is polite and considerate enough to not rub your face in your embarrassing reaction. 

Or rather, she must be so used to it that she doesn't care.

"Go-- good afternoon, what can I do for you? Would you like to eat in or to take away?" Kudos -- you managed not to stutter too much. 

"To eat in, actually," the breathtaking woman replies with a calm smile that reveals pearl-like teeth. After glancing at the drink menu, she continues. "I'd like to try your classic NY cheesecake, with a small cup of French-pressed blend." With her black and white designer clothes and the Chanel handbag at her wrist, she must be from another town, or even another prefecture. Tokyo, Osaka, most probably, she's clearly not a countryside dweller.  

"The cake and coffee set, then. That will be 900 yen, tax included. Please take a seat wherever you wish, I'll bring everything to your table." Usually customers have to pick their orders from the counter, but you'll make an exception. 

After a gracious nod, she pays with a 10,000 yen note that makes you sweat for a couple of seconds, because after such a slow day, you are not sure you have enough cash in the register. Then she goes to sit at a table for four by the window. To your surprise, contrary to what everyone does these days, she doesn't grab a smartphone but places her chin on her folded hands and stares outside at the beautiful and appeasing view of gentle slopes covered with endless tea tree fields behind your shop.

It takes you a few minutes to prepare her order, a welcome break that you use to get your head straight and calm your crazy hormonal reaction. 

Really, you're a joke. Maybe she's the most beautiful person you've ever seen, but you're not just madly in love with the most courageous woman in the world, you also got fucked sideways by a godlike creature last night. Get your head out of the gutter! Priorities, girl, priorities!

A tray in hand, you walk to her table and set everything up for her. "Here you are, enjoy your meal," you say with a warm smile.

"Thank you, it looks delicious, but I don't like eating on my own. Take a seat," the mesmerizing customer says, pointing at the chair opposite to her. You freeze, taken aback by the unexpected and odd offer.

But it's not really an offer. There's a hint of steel in her voice that wasn't there before. 

You frown; you don't appreciate being bossed around, you've had enough of that lately. "My apologies, but I cannot accept, I have a shop to run." For someone who was almost openly fantasizing about this woman, you are proud of your reaction. 

A pretty eyebrow goes up, and a half smile tugs at her lips. She takes a sip of her coffee then raises her hand. To your shock, the We Are Open sign hanging on the door turns on itself and your ear picks up the sound of the lock. On their own, the curtains close, cutting down most of the light in the process.

And just like that, you are locked inside your own shop with a beautiful and scary woman whose skin glows in the dark, like the waters of a pond reflecting moonlight.