Chapter Text
At least once a week lately, Hana has been stopping by Elise to assist with the finances. Not because Akiyama asked her to — he wouldn't dare — but because Mika, the sweet, newly appointed manager had. How could she say no to another woman fighting up the ladder? Hana had been there too, once.
“Hana-san! Thank you again for coming!” Mika greets as she ushers Hana into the back room.
“You don't need to thank me every time,” Hana giggles.
Hana has always enjoyed a challenge. And detangling the hideous web of the Elise accounts definitely is one. Apparently, the previous manager relied solely on spreadsheets and old fashioned account books, leaving the inexperienced Mika with nothing to work with but a mess of incoherent numbers. Lucky for Elise's owner, he was already in possession of Kamuro's best accountant — or so the whole team loved to tell her. Flattery comes with the business. You get used to it.
Hana's first command was that they purchase proper accounting software. After that critical step, her regular visits became more like training sessions. Showing Mika the ropes and keyboard shortcuts and the basics of cash flow. Now every time she leaves it's with a glow of satisfaction at the look of relief in Mika's eyes as she waves goodbye.
“Oh, look! You've already entered the wages,” Hana says excitedly as she pushes an extra chair over to Mika's computer.
“I tried! A lot of bonuses went out last week…”
“A couple of new girls picked up a few regulars. The others started getting competitive,” Sato, the floor manager chimes in. He sits at one of the dressing tables on the other side of the room, glued to his cell. Emailing the hostesses their start times, covering sick leave, sudden departures, newbies. Hana does not envy him. She still remembers the sudden flood of relief she felt at only having to handle Akiyama when she first saw the level of rostering Sato-san did. Akiyama is hopeless, but at least he's only one man and not a roster of twenty-something bright young women with university, families, day jobs and sweethearts.
“Hana-san, did you know the Boss’s birthday is coming up soon?” Mika asks suddenly.
Hana hums in acknowledgement, scrolling through Mika's attempt at balancing the books. “Mm-hm, thirty-three this year,” she replies absently. “Did you know Akiyama-san used to keep his birthday a secret from all of his co-workers?”
“Thirty-three is a bad luck year,” Sato mumbles as he jabs at his phone.
Snorting, Mika waves him away. “Who believes that superstitious stuff these days, Sato-san?” She turns back to Hana, pinching her sleeve lightly to recapture her attention. “If he kept it a secret, then how did it end up on the calendar? I always thought everyone knew.”
“They do now,” Hana says with a little smirk. “I think he was… twenty-seven? No, twenty-six. I saw a birthday card on his desk. He signed up for some menswear mailing list. They sent him a card and a coupon. It's been on every calendar since.”
“Akiyama-san — twenty-six? Mika repeats giddily. “Back then, was he the same as he is now? Like, super laid-back?”
Hana chooses her words carefully. Is there any tactful, professional way to say no, he was cocky, ambitious, annoyingly gorgeous and everything Hana hated about men? That he used to say Hana was like a little sister to him but also once told her that her cleavage could kill a man? That somehow despite all of that, they were the best duo in the department, and the unlikeliest friends?
If there is, inspiration isn't striking her.
Choosing her words, Hana says, “He's… matured well.”
“So Boss has always liked keeping weird secrets, then,” Mika muses. “The other day when I asked him his blood-type, he wouldn't tell me!”
“He's never told anyone at the club,” Sato interjects. “As you can imagine, the question comes up a lot. It's always the new girls’ favourite topic.”
“He's O type,” Hana says dismissively. She's sure she'll get an earful of whining next time he drops by and all the hostesses finally get to do their long awaited compatibility readings on him. But sometimes it's necessary to take Akiyama’s ego down a peg.
Mika gazes at her with awe.
Sato glances up, eyes wide, “You just settled several bets, Hana-san. I’d better let the girls know.” A pleased grin breaks on his face as his fingers fly across the phone's keypad.
“You're welcome. Now can we get back to these accounts?” Hana asks briskly, waking the sleeping monitor.
“One sec, Hana-san. About the birthday thing,” Mika interrupts. “I was thinking of throwing Akiyama-san a party at my friend’s club. I want you to come, too.”
Hana smiles at the sweet gesture. “Of course I will. Which club?”
“Well actually…” Mika lets out a devilish giggle. “It’s a strip club.”
“Huh?!”
“A classy one!” Mika leans close to Hana's ear with an air of secrecy. “He hides it well, but the Boss is actually a bit of a perv.”
“He doesn’t hide it well,” Hana mumbles under her breath.
“I was even wondering if he's made a pass at you, Hana-san, with how much time you spend together. He seems to know an awful lot about you, too.”
“Of course he hasn't made a pass at me!” Hana exclaims, louder and more hotly than she intends to. “Has he made a pass at you, Mika?”
“Hehe, no. None of the other girls here, either. Must be work is off-limits, then?”
Well he doesn't have a great track record. Even if that record is only a roster of one.
“Must be,” Hana sighs, and if it sounds more tragic than it should, Mika is tactful enough not to point it out. Hana’s brain catches up. “And wait — you said he knows a lot about me. What exactly has Akiyama-san told you?”
“Um… now that I think about it, he did say not to tell you that he told me, Hana-san…” Mika laughs nervously.
Even over at the dressing table, Sato squirms uncomfortably under Hana's blazing eyes. “He said that you used to have your hair in a bob, and it was cute,” he offers nervously.
Mika glances between them and shrugs. Noted. Don't expect either of them to keep a secret. They crumble with no resistance. “He also said that one of your ex-boyfriends had a red rose delivered to you at the bank everyday.” Mika giggles. Hana cringes.
“And that you used to cry about the glaciers melting after work drinking parties.”
“Now that I think about it, a lot of the stories were from drinking parties, weren't they, Sato-san…” Mika says, warming up now, her eyes sparkling. “Boss told me that one time he walked you home from a drinking party and passed out on your floor and his ex hated you after that!”
“Nothing happened! He puked on my floor! Enough!” Hana cries, covering her blushing cheeks. “I'll kill him.”
A light hand rests on her arm. Mika leans close. “Anyway, the party will be fun! We can learn all kinds of new things about each other. Maybe we’ll all end up closer!”
“Mika, you've just reminded me of plenty of reasons why co-workers shouldn't have parties together,” Hana whines, resting the cool backs of her hands against her face.
Somehow, they make it through the accounts, not after regaling Hana with a few more third hand stories from the bank days — stories Hana wasn't aware Akiyama even remembered. Stories she herself wished she didn't remember. Tether running short, Hana gathers her things and walks briskly to the door with one last goodbye.
“Sorry, one last thing!” Mika calls, just as Hana opens the door to step out.
Hana closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Yes?”
“You're A type, right, Hana-san?”
Hana glances over her shoulder with a suspicious frown. “Weren't you the one teasing Sato-san for being superstitious?”
“It's just for fun. Tell me!” Mika implores.
Hana sighs. “Yes. A type. See you at the party, Mika.”
She escapes.
***
From: Mika
Message: Hana-san, make sure you show a little skin!
From: Mika
Message: Are you dating anyone right now? Forgot to ask!!
To: Mika
Message: Akiyama-san is late, will be there in 30. Sorry ^.^
From: Mika
Message: Wait my question
From: Mika
Message: ???
Thirty-three looks the same on Akiyama as thirty-two. Though Hana is sure she's thought the same every year since he turned twenty-five and somehow things did change. He used to prefer a clean shave, have an unlined face and wear a sharper but equally vexing smile. The invisible slip of time winds them relentlessly round its fingers.
Akiyama saunters these streets like the Kamurocho air is rejuvenating and not choking with exhaust, cigarette smoke and too many people. Sometimes, Hana is struck with sudden certainty that he'll never love a woman as much as he loves this city. She's dirty, dangerous, eclectic, and most importantly, coy with mystery. Akiyama is an absolute sucker for mystery. And he's committed to Kamurocho in a way he hasn't to another human being for several years. Ball and chain style.
With a deep breath, pleased just to be out, Akiyama asks, “So, where are we going?”
Hana thins her lips. “Mika chose a place on Pink Alley.”
“Pink Alley…” Akiyama muses, but his alarms aren't going off yet. His attention flicks over to her beside him. “This is different, Hana-chan,” he says, gesturing to her outfit. A sequined, sparkly thing. She politely ignored Mika's instructions to show some skin. “Did you dress up for me?” Akiyama teases with a cocked head.
Hana pouts and mumbles, “Well you only have one birthday a year.”
“Heeeeh? Cute,” Akiyama teases, sending her a rare full smile and throwing an affectionate arm around her shoulders. Hana's belly twists. Up ahead, she can make out Mika's hot pink cocktail dress and Sato’s towering frame clustered together under the club's large neon. Hana feels Akiyama tense through the right side of her body.
“There they are,” Akiyama says with a crease in his brow, noting the venue immediately, because nothing really escapes his attention. And if it seems like it has, that's only because that's what he wants you to think. “This is just where we’re meeting, right?”
Hana sighs and trudges forth, slipping from his grip.
Akiyama slows, falling a step behind. “Hana-chan, where are we going?”
“Exactly where you think,” Hana laments. When she glances back she finds Akiyama's eyes locked onto the glittering neon with growing realisation. They flick back over to her, wide.
A panicked laugh bursts out of him. “Come on, Hana-chan. Don't tease me like that.”
Hana makes an irritated noise and whips forward again, storming towards Mika. “Come on, Chief. They're waiting.”
Akiyama jogs after her. “We aren't going there, are we?”
“It was Mika’s idea,” Hana grumbles, tossing her hair and trying not to think about how the next few hours will transpire. The eyes of the man she's wanted for far too long dragging after every other woman in the room.
“And you didn't stop her?” Akiyama says disbelievingly.
Hana's jaw drops. She stops in her tracks and rounds on him. They're just distant enough that their companions shouldn't be able to hear her hissed, “Well if I knew you would be this freaked out about it I would've tried harder to dissuade her!”
“I'm not freaked out.” Akiyama splutters, freaking out.
Hana levels him a skeptical look.
“It's just…” Akiyama rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “You know.”
“No.”
Akiyama looks her up and down. Looks away. “You're so… innocent, Hana-chan. They have male staff here. What if some guy goes for you? I'll have to step in.”
“I've been touched by men before, Akiyama-san,” Hana snaps. “I can take care of myself.”
“But…”
“Don't use me as an excuse for your cowardice!” And then Hana barges up to Mika out of pure spite.
It's not an ideal start to a night that is supposed to be a party. Hana isn't going to ruin the mood for everyone, but if her and Akiyama avoid each other's eyes and directly addressing each other in conversation as they enter, that's just the trade off.
Mika's friend is the typical nightlife entrepreneur. Flashy and ushering them loudly through several velvet ropes and into the heart of the party. The club is darkened and busy, creating a relieving atmosphere of anonymity. Masked performers in little underpants, leather, fluffy boots and a myriad other costumes wander the floors, dance or spin on platforms.
Thankfully, drinks arrive before they are even comfortably seated at one of the exclusive tables. Bottles of high end champagne, suspicious green coloured shots, a frothing pink pitcher. Hana gambles on green.
“Cheers!”
Hana perches on the edge of her seat to clink the three other little glasses. The sudden weight of Akiyama's gaze meets hers over the rims. Then he throws it back. Hana follows, chasing the bite of surprise with the acetic burn.
“Another round please!” Mika calls.
Hana accepts every drink that comes her way, trying her best to get blasted so she can meet Akiyama's eyes again without that electric sting. Apparently they're on the same page, Akiyama evidently deciding that if he can't escape sitting in a strip club with his ‘innocent’ secretary, then the next best thing is to kill his inhibitions enough to guiltlessly enjoy whatever comes next.
“Look, Hana-san,” Mika says against her ear, pointing conspicuously at a man in nothing but a tiny thong. “Told you it was a classy place!”
“Bisexual means classy now?” Hana blurts aloud. The shots have done their job. Akiyama chuckles. They're back to acknowledging each other.
“Boss,” Sato ventures, looking a little loose himself. “Are you single right now? You won't get in trouble for being here, right?”
“I'm always single,” Akiyama answers.
“What about that lady Kansai lady? Was it… Akane-san?”
“We aren't seeing each other anymore. Not that it was exclusive anyway.”
“I see… That's a shame.”
Akiyama just shrugs, perfectly neutral.
“Boss,” Mika yells, interrupting, “did you know you're most compatible with A type women? Since you're O type, of course.”
“And how would you know that, I wonder,” Akiyama looks at Hana again just to send her the raised brows.
“Did you know Hana-san is A type?”
“Is she?” Akiyama asks distractedly, eyes dragging in the wake of a scantily clad performer in leather. “Mm, wait I did know that.”
Hana shoots Mika a look, who pretends she doesn't see. It's only in the ladies room a little later that Hana manages to corner her and demand, “Mika, are you scheming something?”
“No…”
She is a terrible liar.
Hana sighs and turns to the mirror to fix her lip gloss. “You're trying to get Akiyama-san to notice me, aren't you?”
In the reflection, Mika's look collapses into tipsy guilt. “Well, I mean… it's so obvious…”
“Well I try not to be obvious about it,” Hana grumbles, tucking her cosmetics back into her bag. Then she turns for the door.
“Not you, Hana-san,” Mika says, catching Hana by the wrist. Their fingers lace together loosely as Hana turns back to look at her. “Akiyama-san.”
Hana stares at her. “What do you mean?”
“I told you, didn't I? He can't go ten minutes without talking about you. And the look he gets…”
Hana bites her lip. The alcohol is taking the typical belly clench, stir of cautious hope, years-long yearning and turning it all into nausea. “When we arrived, he told me that I'm too innocent. When he says that, it's like he's trying to tell himself I'm not his type.”
Mika tilts her head with a little frown. “But you aren't, though. Innocent, I mean. Right, Hana-san?”
“I'm an adult. Of course I’m not!” Hana flares, more at the memory of his patronising tone than Mika.
A sweet smile unfurls on Mika's face. Her fingers squeeze Hana's. “Exactly. Have you ever thought of showing him?”
By the time they return to the table, hand in hand, the private performers are beginning to appear. Hana bites her lip as she sits, watching two gorgeous women in suggestive leather straps descend on her libertine of a boss.
The air grows thick, rolling hotly over Hana's exposed skin. Neck. Hands. Legs. It's the first time she's ever seen that look on him, this man she knows better than himself.
Eyes heavy. Unresisting one performer runs her hands down his arms and gathers his wrists, fingers biting his tendons. The other performer gestures to the silky fabric tucked into her garter. A commanding flick of her wrist — get it. Akiyama obeys, pulling it free with his teeth. A drunken cheer goes up. When the performer straddles him, Hana sees the line of him, half-full, pressing against his slacks.
Akiyama's eyes meet Hana’s over the woman's shoulder. Heated but clear. Does he think she still looks innocent now, holding his lidded gaze?
Then his eyes disappear beneath the blindfold.
Hana is done waiting.
***
Hana really is too old now to be getting hammered like this on a Friday night. That's what hours of pressure cooking in a strip club with the object of her desire forces a woman to do, though.
“Up you go, Hana-chan,” a familiar voice murmurs beside her ear.
Hana stumbles on the stair, the familiar clang of fire-escape metal. A firm hand catches her around the ribs, close to her breast. Akiyama, unaffected, tuts with concern and continues guiding them up.
“Maybe we should get your shoes off…” he murmurs. “Wait here a sec,” and the warmth of his body slips away.
It's dark. Late. Hana's world spins. Her hair has fallen out of its pins and tickles her hot cheeks. She's past the point where everything feels blissfully good and the world is warm. Beautiful people's skin on show, Akiyama's heady eyes. Loud laughter like thunder in her ears. With enough liquor in her, it did end up being enjoyable for a sliver of time towards the end.
The only sound out here, behind the Serena building, is the shuffle of her heels on the fire escape. Now, Hana only feels ill and suddenly alone, unable to move her head to find where Akiyama has gone because she's still got enough sense to know it'll send her sprawling down the stairs.
“You broke up with that woman,” Hana mumbles.
“Hold this,” Akiyama’s warm hands guide hers to a metal railing. “We're almost at the office.”
“Why?” Hana screws her eyes shut as he takes hold of her ankle and slips one of her heels off. He guides her foot back to solid, cold metal. Then the other.
“Because it's closer than sending you all the way home. I'm pretty hammered myself, you know.”
“That's not what I meant!”
“Oh?” Akiyama burrows back under Hana's arm and coaxes her up the stairs again, faster now with her heels off. He has to bend deeply at the knees. Face-to-face, bare foot, Hana only barely stands above his shoulder. A deep pull of longing rakes through her. “What did you mean?”
“I… I forgot.”
The office is cold, the neons across the street glowing through the window the only source of light. Hana sinks down onto the sofa as Akiyama rummages in the closet behind her desk, finally emerging with a pile of blankets and a worn out pillow.
“Here. Sleeping on these things will throw out your back, but neither of us will feel it with the hangovers we're going to have in the morning,” he tells her, crouching and setting the two blankets and pillow beside her.
“That's a relief,” Hana murmurs sarcastically. Then genuine: “Thank you, Chief. For keeping me safe.”
“That's what I'm here for,” Akiyama dismisses, standing and turning his back to her. “Get some sleep, Hana-chan.”
“What about you?”
“I'll be right there,” he says, and she can just make out his gesture to the other sofa. “I'll get some water.”
“Okay,” Hana says, fumbling for the zip of her dress. There is no way she can sleep in these sequins. Akiyama pretends to be busy, his back turned as he fumbles in the dark for clean glasses. Hana strips to the camisole she had underneath and her panties, then bundles herself tightly in a blanket.
“Ah!” She suddenly yelps.
The glasses clatter, Akiyama gasps a curse. “Shit — You okay, Hana-chan?”
“I remembered! You tried to distract me! You broke up with that woman, Akiyama-san!”
He makes an exasperated whine. “You're still on that? There's nothing more to say.”
“Then tell me why.”
“Drink this before you lay down,” Akiyama reappears, holding a glass of water out to her. Hana struggles to extricate her arm from the blanket. She can imagine his eyes laughing at her.
Hana drains the glass and then settles herself down on the worn out pillow. The sudden, overwhelming scent of Akiyama fills her nose. Unpleasant at first, all cigarettes. Then underneath, the smudge of his cologne and hair and that intangible thing underneath it all that's just him. Hana's chest twists so ferociously she clutches at it under the cover of dark, like she's trying to keep a creature from crawling out.
“We weren't compatible,” Akiyama murmurs, interrupting her thoughts. His shadow flops onto the opposite sofa on his back.
Hana pillows her cheek under her hand. “I didn't think that mattered to you.”
“Hm? What do you mean?” It twinges a bit in Hana's chest. The soft velvet tone of his voice in the dark. Quiet on purpose, falling apart a little at the seams. The kind of voice she could imagine him using in a bedroom, if he ever let his guard down enough to get caught in one instead of some seedy hotel or the back of a bar.
If a little drunk sigh slips out of her, neither of them acknowledge it. “What do you mean, what do I mean?” Hana whines. “It's not like you're looking to get married and start a family!”
He hums in understanding. “Oh, right. I wasn't talking about our values or anything. I mean…” Hana sees his shadow shrug. “You know how it is.”
Hana screws up her brows. Akiyama must know her well enough to hear the expression without seeing it.
Akiyama says, “In bed.”
Hana says, “Sexually.”
“Yeah. Sexually.”
Hana can't suppress her sigh. “Is that the most important thing to you, Akiyama-san?”
He lets out a tired noise, almost like he's scolding her for making him say it out loud. “Most important makes me sound like an asshole. But that kind of chemistry is important. Especially for what I'm looking for right now.”
Which Hana knows means nothing serious. Nothing vulnerable. Nothing that imposes on his work, his mission, his life.
“Fine. You don't have to justify yourself to me,” Hana says, both of them knowing she doesn't really mean it. “What do you look for then, if it's so important to you?”
Akiyama is silent for a moment. But he's drunk too. He's a man, after all. Just a little weak to the temptation of holding a conversation where he thinks he has the edge on her.
“Can you guess?”
Hana looks at him. His shadowed eyes. “Yes.”
“Shoot.” Akiyama leans upright and lifts his glass of water to his lips.
“You like a woman who will tie you up sometimes.”
Akiyama chokes on his drink. “Hana-chan… have you been spying on me?”
“Oh, please,” Hana tuts, snuggling further into her blanket like it will ward off her better sense begging her to end this conversation. “You're not some enigma, Akiyama-san. I've seen bruises on your wrists before. You would've told me if some thugs had caught you, so of course I knew what it actually was. And tonight only proved it further.”
Akiyama laughs awkwardly. “Nothing slips past you.”
“You told me to guess!”
“I did,” he concedes, still laughing.
“Akiyama-san,” Hana murmurs. “I think you like a woman who will keep you on your toes. Even though you'll call yourself adventurous, if she has your interest, it doesn't matter how kinky or vanilla she is. You can't resist once you're enamoured.”
“Vanilla?” Akiyama echoes roughly. He appears to agonise for a few seconds, hands coming up to pillow the back of his head. “I never imagined that word coming out of your mouth, Hana-chan.”
“Anyway, that's probably why you and her were incompatible. She didn't light your fire.” Hana pauses for a moment, squinting in the dark to see if he has any visible tells. Nothing, at least without her glasses on. “And she probably wanted to come over to your apartment instead of some hotel. And you wouldn't let her.”
“Hehh.” Hana can practically hear him trying to arrange a non-committal response that won't reveal more than he's prepared to. The lighter snicks, throwing his features into a sudden orange glow. That's how Hana knows she got a hit.
“Am I right?”
The tip smoulders. “Yeah. You're right. Still a surprise every time I realise I can't hide anything from you.”
Compatible. He's all shadow on the opposite sofa. Jacket off, bundled into a makeshift pillow. Both blankets on Hana. Knees listing wide. A silhouette from her dreams, almost like he's not here at all.
“I like you,” Hana whispers. Understatements are usually Akiyama's thing, but Hana has already cashed in all her brazenness for the night. “I'm drunk.”
Akiyama sighs out a long stream of smoke. His voice feels like a stroke down every notch of Hana's spine. “You'll sleep it off.”