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“You want me to walk you back to your car, kid?” Ryoma leans against the frame as he holds the door open for Kaede, a single eyebrow raised. Kaede smiles back gratefully as she slips through, tucking her jacket more securely around herself and shaking her head.
“I’ll be okay! It’s only halfway down the block. It’s too dark for anyone to recognise me, and besides!” Kaede reaches into her pocket and withdraws the big star sunglasses she stole off Kaito’s dresser the last time she went over to his and Shuichi’s apartment. “I have a disguise!”
Ryoma eyes the sunglasses with what can only be called disappointment before sighing and turning around. “Right. Well, text me when you get home,” he says. He’s already stepping back inside the venue, hands tucking into his pockets, but Kaede makes sure to call a goodbye after him as he disappears inside the building, a wide grin on her face. Ryoma and Kaito have never really gotten along—which is fine, Ryoma is her manager, not a close family friend like Kaito, even if she does wish she and Ryoma could be friends, too—and as much as Kaede tries not to make things worse for them, it is really funny to pull this every so often.
She wasn’t kidding about the sunglasses, though. Kaede slides them onto her face and pulls up her hood before ducking into the back alley she parked at the end of. She sticks close to the wall, squinting behind the lenses of her glasses to see through the dark. Admittedly, her planning around this could have been better. It’s such a short walk that Kaede isn’t the most worried about it, but next time she thinks she’ll go for a scarf or something else to cover her face. Her visibility already isn’t fantastic in the dark.
As she walks, Kaede swings her arms at her sides and taps out the notes to the last song she played on stage. Mazurka Op. 68 No. 3 is such an energetic song to round off the night! Kaede hums it under her breath, mainly because she’s alone and there’s nobody she can harass with her awful singing, and imagines that she’s playing it again. Playing for such a big crowd of people really never gets old, which her friends have said is incredible considering how long she’s been doing it. A lot of Kaede’s friends, Shuichi and Himiko in particular, are pretty introverted, though, so Kaede supposes they wouldn’t really get it, but even if they could, Kaede doesn’t know how she would explain how it feels to be up on stage, letting the music flow through her, glancing out at a smiling crowd and feeling their love, their enjoyment and satisfaction just pouring into her… yeah, Kaede is already looking forward to her next recital.
Just yards away from her car, there’s a rush of movement beside her and someone seems to materialise out of the darkness. Before Kaede can say anything, greet them perhaps, a strong, cold hand wraps around her throat and slams her backwards into the wall, knocking the breath out of her. The sunglasses are knocked off her face and clatter against the concrete. Kaede gasps, hands scrabbling at the wrist by her neck, and wonders through an oxygen-deprived haze who it could be; a mugger? Something worse? Kaede has had encounters with nasty fans before, but never any that turned violent—could this be her first?
The hand shifts upwards, blunt fingernails digging into her pulse point, but loosens just enough for her to catch her breath. Kaede doesn’t get a chance to feel grateful for it before something sharp and chilly presses into her skin. The silver blade gleams in the moonlight. Kaede gasps, and would swallow if not for the knife against her neck. She doesn’t move an inch, except to adjust her grip on her attacker’s wrist, eyes flitting around the alley for some means of escaping. Her gaze settles on the back entrance of the music venue. If she screamed now, would Ryoma hear her? He’s sharp and fast, and he could be here in seconds after hearing her call—but would it matter? There’s a blade to her throat. They could cut through her skin and she’d be dead in seconds, bleeding on the concrete for Ryoma to find her.
Maybe Kaede could wait for someone to round the corner and then scream? Shrouded in darkness like this, they wouldn’t see her at first, but if she made a commotion, surely someone would notice and come to help. But what if nobody comes? What if Kaede wastes her one chance fighting and screaming and they kill her before anyone can come around? What if her attacker is stronger than the both of them combined? Kaede’s hands are made for playing the piano, not fighting; they’re not like Kaito’s, which are large and calloused and scarred from years of fistfights. All Kaede knows how to do is make music. She barely knows how to get herself out of this now, despite years of scrolling self defense posts and watching videos, creating convoluted escape plans in the event that she’s jumped.
Kaede swallows again, shallow and weak, and searches for the eyes of her attacker. They’re covered by the hood they wear, but the person pinning her is larger than her both in height and build, with broad shoulders and strong, hairy hands. Whoever they are, she can’t match their strength, especially when she caught them off guard. Kaede doubts that anybody she knows could fight them off, actually, except for maybe—
Her attacker says something to her in a language she doesn’t understand. From the harsh syllables and slower speed, Kaede thinks it’s English—but she knows just enough English to manage during tours and she doesn’t understand a word of it. Maybe it’s something else. What, then? What could a foreigner want with her? Maybe it’s a tourist who came for the show? But if they like her music, why are they holding her up? Could her performance have been unsatisfactory? Maybe they’re doing this because they like her? Sayaka talked about people like that, who attack out of love—how could Kaede have attracted somebody like that?
“I-I’m sorry,” Kaede rasps, in English, hoping to reach them even if they don’t speak Japanese. “I-I don’t—I don’t understand what you said, can you please—”
Their grip tightens on her throat and Kaede gasps, tears beading in the corners of her eyes. They speak again, but all she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears. The knife is sharp and painful where it digs into her skin. Kaede can feel blood dripping down her neck into her shirt. It can’t be a deep enough cut to be fatal yet, it can’t, but much in the way that papercuts are excruciating, the hurt is all Kaede can focus on. She screws her eyes shut and grips her attacker’s wrist, more in an attempt to plead with them than in the hopes of actually fighting them off, and opens her mouth to speak again.
All of a sudden, their hand around her neck goes limp, and the knife falls to the ground with a clatter. There’s a loud thud and a grunt, and then the sound of a painful impact and a sharp wheeze of air. Bemused and afraid, Kaede only manages to open her eyes when the sounds stop, scanning the alley for her attacker, but… they’re on the ground, unconscious, their knife lying still about a foot away. The tip of the blade is stained red. Kaede averts her gaze as soon as she notices and looks up to where she can see another figure, much smaller than the person who had her pinned, with gleaming scarlet eyes and long twintails and…
“Maki,” Kaede sobs, and pitches forward, throwing her arms around her girlfriend’s shoulders. Maki takes a single, bracing step, but doesn’t make a sound. Strong arms curl around Kaede’s waist and hold her firm and close. The only indication that Maki is at all shaken is the way one of her hands fists in Kaede’s shirt, but Kaede doesn’t have the energy to pay attention to it right now, an anguished sound leaving her mouth as she buries her face into Maki’s shoulder. “Maki, Maki, I thought I was going to—I thought—”
“I know.” Maki’s low, steady timbre is enough to bring another hot wave of tears to Kaede’s eyes. “I know, I’m sorry. I came to surprise you, but you’d already stepped out before I could get to you—I’m sorry. I should have been faster.”
Kaede doesn’t have the words right now to refute that, but she shakes her head and sobs, clutching at Maki’s shoulders. No. No. Maki has nothing to apologise for, Maki is perfect, Maki is strong and Maki is here, and she saved Kaede the way that she always does, and—
“Kaede,” Maki’s voice is much softer now, “you need to breathe.” One of her hands cards through Kaede’s hair, gentle and deliberate, the way that she knows Kaede likes. A shudder runs down Kaede’s spine at the touch, but she leans up into Maki’s palm before she can pull away. She needs every little bit of it right now, the touch, the care, needs to remind herself that she’s still here, that she’s safe. Maki obligingly keeps up the motion. “You’re fine. You’re safe. But I don’t want you to hyperventilate.”
Kaede nods against Maki’s shoulder, gulping down a shallow breath and forcing herself to let it out in a slow, deep exhalation. She pushes out more air than she has and inhales too quickly afterwards, but on her next breath, her shoulders are already starting to slow, the hiccuping sobs that were breaking out of her subsiding into silent tears. Even when Kaede has composed herself somewhat, she doesn’t pull away, still gripping Maki’s shoulders like she’d slip off into the darkness again if Kaede let her go. It’s not really a fair assumption—Maki has always been here for Kaede when she’s been needed—but Kaede is scared, and her throat hurts, and she barely knows what happened just now. She needs Maki to stay where she can see her.
Eventually, Kaede composes herself to pull back a little, and Maki regards her with calculating but soft red eyes, She lifts one hand, hesitates, and then brushes her calloused fingertips against Kaede’s neck. Kaede shivers, but doesn’t bat Maki away, allowing the other woman to tilt her chin upwards and examine the damage.
“It’s shallow,” she says. “But we should disinfect and wrap it, anyway.” She cups the side of Kaede’s neck, light and gentle, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into the bruised skin. Kaede can feel her eyelids drooping, every part of her sagging into Maki with the urge to melt into her touch. “I’ll drive you home. Do you want to call the police?”
Kaede swallows and looks down at her attacker’s unconscious form. She should. If she doesn’t, they could hurt somebody else. But…
“If you’re scared,” Maki adds, “we can ask Hoshi to do it. He should know what happened, anyway.”
Oh. Kaede nods, but bites her lip—the idea of seeing Ryoma right now feels a little overwhelming. All she wants to do at this moment is bury herself in Maki’s arms and never come back up.
It must show on her face. “It’s fine,” Maki says. “You can sit in the car. I’ll handle it. Okay?”
Her hand comes up to cup Kaede’s cheek, now, thumb brushing through the tear track beneath her left eye. Kaede leans heavily into the touch and nods, and allows Maki to walk her the rest of the way to her car, helping her into the passenger seat and locking up the vehicle behind her. Through the window, Kaede watches as Maki returns to the alley, casting a disdainful look at the stranger on the ground and bending down to pick up the discarded sunglasses. She’s too far away to tell, but Kaede thinks she can see Maki’s nose wrinkle as she determines the origin of the shades and tucks them into her pocket.
A quiet laugh bubbles out of Kaede, even softer against the blood still rushing in her ears, and she dozes off, the stinging in her neck fading into the background as all the fear and the adrenaline cut off at once and her head slumps against the window.
When she opens her eyes again, it’s to Maki climbing in on the driver’s side. Kaede can just barely make out Ryoma, standing outside the door, his hands tucked into his pockets. His features are shrouded in darkness from the night, but his eyes are still noticeably severe—that is, until they settle on Kaede. She’s never quite seen his gaze soften like that before.
“Take care of her, Harukawa,” Ryoma says quietly. He pulls down on his cap and takes a step back, and Kaede watches Maki’s profile through squinted eyes as she smiles.
“She takes care of me,” Maki responds. Ryoma offers her an upturned lip for his troubles, and Maki closes the door and starts the engine. Her eyes sweep over to Kaede before she drives off. “Morning,” she adds. Figures she would have noticed.
Kaede’s voice comes out hoarse “Morning.” She clears her throat. “And, um… good night.” She closes her open eye and adjusts her position, finding a more comfortable way to lie. She hears Maki chuckle and the radio turn on to the classical music station, and then feels the motion of the car starting to move.
The last thing she hears before she drifts off again is Maki murmuring, “Good night, Kaede,” amidst the soft sound of the cello playing from their old car speakers.