Chapter Text
When she joined the Order, they had given her a syllabus-of-sorts and told her to tick off each item on the list to complete her probationary period. She had a feeling it had to do with the fact that she never graduated from any fancy assassin school.
But it was easy enough under Shishiba’s tutelage. Poisons were basic, hand-to-hand combat was intuitive, and weaponry — already mastered. There really was just one item left unticked now, and it was something obscure called ‘captivation’.
When she brought it up, Shishiba only furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Captivation,” Osaragi said, brandishing the syllabus paper and pointing to the line. “See? It’s here.”
He stared at it for a long time, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what it was. Then he sighed and turned away. “Sure. Fine. We can start on Monday.”
“Not today? I’m sure I can get it down.”
“No,” he said, and that was the end of the conversation. She forgot to ask what it even was. Not that it would matter — she felt that Shishiba would only defer it.
So on Monday during breakfast, she decided to ask the others about it. Nagumo had exploded into a peal of laughter; Hyo had cast him a disapproving glance and turned to Osaragi and said, “It’s really the art of persuasion.”
“Persuasion? Like in business deals?”
“Hyo, stop mincing words,” Nagumo said. He was grinning ear-to-ear. “Osaragi doesn’t need to be protected from the truth.”
Hyo sighed again. She bristled a little. “Just tell me what it is.”
Finally, Hyo said, “The old term for it was seduction.” He paused, regarding her. Perhaps satisfied that she hadn’t pulled a horrified expression, he continued. “It’s common in spy schools, though often cross-taught in assassin programs. And it’s been recently rebranded to ‘captivation’ to avoid the negative connotations mostly affecting your— well, people of your gender.”
“Women,” Nagumo said, as if that wasn’t clear enough.
Osaragi’s mind churned. She was lucky she had a pretty impenetrable poker face. “So you two also studied this?”
“Of course. I’m good at it, you know.” Nagumo had the nerve to wink at her.
Not that she was surprised. She turned to Hyo instead and tilted her head. Somehow she could not imagine him excelling at this at all.
“Don’t think rude things,” Hyo said, as if he’d just read her mind. He sipped at his coffee. “You know why else it’s been rebranded? Because you don’t always have to take the sexual or romantic angle to do this.”
“Yes,” Nagumo said. “You can just charm them with your dance skills.” He cast a very meaningful glance at Hyo.
Now that’s a picture. She could swear Hyo’s cheeks colored a little as he barked at Nagumo to keep to his scrambled eggs.
Something occurred to her then. “So I have to…?” She couldn’t quite say the word. “With Mr. Shishiba?”
Nagumo had started laughing uncontrollably again. Hyo glared at him. “Stop laughing, Nagumo.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Nagumo said. He wiped the tears off his eyes. “I’m just imagining what a nightmare this must be for Shishiba.”
Nightmare? Osaragi didn’t quite know how to define the sting that she felt from that. “But he must’ve done this before.”
“Oh, yeah. He has that street urchin image that heiresses get particularly suckered into.” Nagumo smiled at her and said, smugly, “But you’re a farm girl, aren’t you, Osaragi?”
She blinked. “Why does that matter if I’m the one who’s supposed to…?”
“Enough teasing.” Hyo slammed the table, sent a look in Nagumo’s direction that gave an air of finality. “Let Shishiba take care of it. He knows how to teach this.”
Nagumo put his hands up in the air, and that was the end of the conversation. As always, breakfast service soon ended with no one else joining them in the dining room. Osaragi was rather grateful for that, even if she wasn’t sure how to process all the information she managed to get.
Oh well. Time to dive right into it.
When she came to the study, she found Shishiba already sitting by the window, pouring over some paperwork. He seemed tired, his head propped up on one hand. He was dressed less formally today, his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, his jacket draped over the back of the chair. Osaragi asked, “Is this still a good time?”
He glanced up at her. She didn’t miss the little sigh that escaped his lips. “Yes, it is. Come in.”
She dragged a chair up to Shishiba’s desk and sat there. “I learned a few things from Hyo and Nagumo already.”
That seemed to catch Shishiba’s attention. He frowned. “You did?”
“Well, I know what ‘captivation’ means now.”
She recounted what they had told her. Well, minus the things that Nagumo had said about Shishiba’s— prowess. He slumped back into his chair. “I see,” he said. “So at least you know the nature of our exercise today.”
“Not exactly,” Osaragi said. “Am I supposed to… captivate you? When you’re already aware of my intentions?”
“Not me me,” Shishiba said. “We’ll run through some case studies and I’ll pretend to be your target. And we’ll go over some techniques you can try out.”
Okay, so this was all pretend. “Sure.”
“I have to warn you that we’ll likely emulate some physical intimacy.”
“Okay.”
“You can tell me to stop at anytime.”
“I know that.”
She noticed how he was twiddling with the button on his rolled-up sleeve. Strange. He seemed almost anxious, even more so than her. But eventually Shishiba let go of the button and said, “Alright, on our feet.”
They both shuffled to stand. Shishiba picked up an index card from the desk and read over it quickly. “For your first target — consider a middle-aged male target, reserved and aloof, but not incorruptible. He’s an arms dealer with a hefty layer of security that we’d rather not alert, hence the covert operation.”
“Why can’t I just use pain to extract this information out?”
“Because you’ll be doing this in the target’s territory,” Shishiba said. “Interrogative torture doesn’t quite work when you don’t have control over your surroundings. It requires isolating the target from their home base. Sometimes positive attention is more effective at getting what you want.” He crossed his hands behind his back. “Usually I would repeat what Hyo said and emphasize that the attraction angle doesn’t have to be your only path forward, but it is often one of the most effective ones in this scenario. Can you dance?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe we can get Hyo to teach you. Useful thing in your repertoire, especially for missions like this.” Shishiba scratched the back of his neck, like he found it all so irritating.
Something occurred to Osaragi. “Can you dance?”
He seemed to stiffen. “Adequately.”
“Then you can teach me.”
She thought she saw him blanch. But the next blink, and Shishiba seemed as cool as ever. “Maybe later.“ He tapped the index card. “So. For now — let’s say we’re at a public party and the target is busy socializing. What’s your first move?”
Osaragi considered it. It wasn’t like she was new to the idea that men found her attractive, being coworkers with Kamihate and all, but it also wasn’t as if she had ever deliberately put her looks forward to get something. Especially not from Shishiba. The idea actually made her squirm a little, in a way that never happened before.
But, this was all pretend, right?
Osaragi moved in quickly, sliding one hand behind Shishiba’s neck and tilting her face up, the way she had seen so many people kiss. But that contact never came. Shishiba had pressed a palm to her shoulder, stopping her just short of her target. She looked up at him, and found herself suddenly shying away from it all. It was the angle and the proximity that struck her — the way Shishiba was gazing down at her with half-lidded eyes she had come to know so well, the ones that made him look perpetually bored at anything and everything. But in that moment, she almost felt like they meant something else. Or maybe she had wanted them to.
Osaragi immediately stepped back. She’s a professional; she could shrug It off. “I take it that’s not the right move?”
“Not quite,” Shishiba said. He didn’t even look perturbed, and Osaragi felt another unfamiliar sting of embarrassment. “That may work for some targets, but remember what I said. Your target is reserved and aloof. He wouldn’t give in that easily.”
“I see,” she said. This specific pretend-target certainly wasn’t making it easy to distinguish him from Shishiba. “So I should build up to it.”
“That’s right. You’ll need to build a rapport first.” Shishiba stepped sideways, putting a little more distance between them. “Remember that target is surrounded by people. The first thing you’ll want to do is to isolate them. Your earlier tactic would’ve attracted way too much attention.”
“Sorry.”
Shishiba quirked an eyebrow. “There’s no need to be sorry. We’re learning. Now—“ He put his hands into his pockets. “What are you going to do to grab my attention?”
Truthfully, Osaragi had no idea. She was beginning to understand why Shishiba may have saved this item for last. She was aware enough that the way she acted or thought never quite fit into society, much less high society.
Thank goodness Shishiba let her off the hook. “There’s a few options,” he said. “Typically, your appearance would be the first to catch the eye of a target like this. You can see it in the way they look at you, the way their eyes wander. In that case, look them back in the eyes but don’t engage. Come to stand somewhere else and be aloof, but available.”
She had no idea what that looked like, but she nodded anyways. Shishiba continued, “The second way is to physically engage them.”
“But I thought you said—“
Shishiba suddenly walked into Osaragi then, bumping their shoulders together. In a quick, smooth half-turn Shishiba was looming over her, touching her by her arms and his brow furrowed in genuine concern. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. That was my mistake.”
“I—“ Osaragi was taken aback. “It’s okay, Mr. Shishiba.”
His face immediately straightened. Shishiba stepped back. “That’s what I meant,” he said. “See how I caught your attention and lower your defenses?”
“Oh.” That was a rather jarring display. She had never seen Shishiba switch personas that quickly, if ever.
“Now you try.”
Osaragi tried her best. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing a little.
Shishiba clicked his tongue. “Not like that.” He took her hands by the wrists and placed them on his forearms. “Start the physical contact. You can even spill something on them, which gives you more of an excuse for prolonged contact and maybe even to take them away from the party.” He looked at her, and Osaragi felt that tightening in her chest again. She could swear Shishiba’s arms were emanating a rather unnatural heat, the way they were burning into her fingertips. “Now look me in the eyes and try the apology again.”
She fought through her anxiety to meet his eyes. In a moment of wavering she bit her bottom lip, worrying it. “I’m sorry.”
Shishiba let out a breath. It was so soft and short but unmistakable to Osaragi’s trained ears. He nodded. “Good. The expression is better. The damsel-in-distress image is very effective.”
She didn’t know whether she should admit that it was all accidental. That hadn’t been under her control at all. But knowing how far and in between Shishiba’s compliments are, she decided to just go along with it.
“Now let’s say you’ve separated me from my group and taken me to an isolated place. Remember that your ultimate goal is to extract the information and erase the target. Keep their defenses low, so that they’ll be fooled into thinking that you’re a nobody who they can gab to. So continue the flirtation, the physical touches. Don’t be too eager. The key is to maintain hope.”
He separated himself from her and came to stand behind her. “You should walk in front of them. Keep them fixated on you. Maybe they’ll touch you at this point—“ She could feel his hand, resting easy on the small of her back. It sent a rather electric jolt down her spine. “—And you should lean into it, if only a little. But keep yourself ahead. Give them a look over your shoulder, a smile every so often.”
“Like this?” Osaragi twisted her body to look back at him.
Shishiba shook his head. He placed both hands on her shoulders to straighten them, force her to look ahead. Now she couldn’t see Shishiba at all.
But then his hand snaked under her chin, tilting her face to look over her shoulder and at him. He wasn’t smiling, but there was something relaxed about his eyes that gave the slightest inkling of awe. “There,” he said. “Like that.”
Osaragi was biting her bottom lip again. It was happening involuntarily at this point. Her voice was pitched when she said, “Okay.”
“Once you have your information,” Shishiba said, stepping closer. She could feel the ghost of his body hovering behind her, “you’re going to have to determine how to best erase them. Targets like this will have a high level of security. Maybe they’re even trained in self-defense. Options will be limited; you likely won’t be able to bring in a weapon, and hand-to-hand combat will attract too much attention.” Shishiba’s hands were brushing down her arms. He was practically speaking in Osaragi’s ear now, his blonde hair mingling with her own. “And he’s going to want to close the deal with you,” he continued. Osaragi found her breath hitching. “So use that to your advantage. Keep him spellbound while you assess your options.”
Somehow this anticipation, the warmth of Shishiba’s body, the way his hands were just grazing over her body — it was all too much. Osaragi wanted to end it.
So she whirled around and grabbed the nape of Shishiba’s neck, aiming to press their lips together. Her hand shot out then, grabbing a pen from the desk. That’s it: jackpot. She had her weapon, and the moment she had the target locked in a kiss, then she would go for the kill.
Instead, she found herself whirled back around, one arm locked behind her, pinned between her back and Shishiba’s front. Her hand with the pen was equally immobilized by Shishiba’s vice grip around her wrist. She tried to wriggle herself out but it was useless; Shishiba had pressed their bodies together with a firm and unforgiving pressure. There was no way out.
When he spoke from behind her, his voice was low and very, very close. “You’re being too plain with your intentions.” He squeezed, bringing Osaragi’s attention to his grip on her wrists.
She realized that there was no pain with the pressure he was applying. And that pressure was now slowly morphing into something gentler and firmer; his right palm, the one locking her arm between them, now easing up and moving out to graze over her hip. Osaragi felt a stir, burning low in her abdomen.
“Remember the buildup,” he said. His hand was now brushing to the front of Osaragi’s body, lingering a little over that fire in her belly and sending it aflame, then moving on up to just under her collarbone, over her heart. “Feel how your target is responding. Their heartbeat, their breathing.”
She certainly couldn’t try to hear anything over the thumping of her own heart. Shishiba must’ve felt all that. At this point, she couldn’t care less, only wished that his hand had lingered longer on her chest.
Instead, he touched her chin and tilted her face to look back at him, just as he had done earlier. They were looking at each other at that impossibly close distance again, and this time Osaragi knew she had nowhere to hide, no chance of hiding her frantic heartbeat or how shallow her breaths were. Shishiba had those pupils that were often like slits of a cat’s eyes — but in this moment they looked wide, solid and round as a dark moon. They engulfed her as he closed their distance.
When he pressed their lips together, she found no relief. The stir in her belly only exploded, sending a trill to the extremities of her limbs. It was an effect akin to paralysis, and Osaragi soon couldn’t find herself focusing on anything but the way Shishiba would draw away ever so slightly, only to press back another kiss to the edge of her mouth, then to her top lip, and her bottom—
“Open your mouth,” he whispered.
She realized she had been pursing her lips, the way she thought people did when they kissed. When she parted them, she couldn’t help but let out a small whine when their mouths met in a wet, warm tangle. She shirked away at first, alarmed at the novelty of it all, and he stroked her chin with his thumb. “Okay?” he said. There was a little furrow on his brow. She realized he was waiting, watching and gauging her reaction.
She didn’t want it to end. At that, Osaragi found the courage to surge forward and capture his lips in another open-mouthed kiss — slow at first, testing the waters. Then it grew more heated, frantic, her body pressing back desperately against his to deepen their angle. She was now grabbing onto the back of his head and his hip, tangling her fingers into his hair and the belt loops of his trousers in an effort to keep him in place. It was infuriating; there was no more distance to be closed between them, yet Osaragi found herself still wanting.
Then she heard a click. And she felt it: a blunt but discernible tip, poking into the side of her neck.
Shishiba broke their kiss with a loud, wet pop, and Osaragi realized the predicament that she was in.
“Checkmate,” he said. The pen was now in his grip, pressed up against Osaragi’s artery.
Her cheeks burned, this time with embarrassment. She had been so engrossed in the kiss that she hadn’t noticed him letting go of her hand, taking the pen away from her.
Shishiba was gone within an instance. He broke apart and placed the pen back into the case on the desk. “You let me reel you in instead of the other way around,” he said. He wasn’t even looking at Osaragi as he rolled his sleeves back down and donned his jacket. She could feel the disappointment bleeding from his words. From herself, really.
“I can try again,” she said.
He shook his head. “That’s it for today.” He only cast her a glance as he walked out of the study. “Next time, I expect you to be more vigilant.”
And he left her in the study, still catching her breath. She didn’t know what she was more disappointed by — her failing the task, or the way the kiss had ended so abruptly, leaving only the phantom warmth of Shishiba’s lips on hers.
Looks like she has her work cut out for her.