Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At a busy café in downtown Amsterdam, I sat with seven other individuals on a Friday night - all complete strangers. Not my typical scene, I assure you; I would have rather stayed in my hotel room, curled up in the magnificent bay window overlooking the city and reading a good book. However, I was on a mission. One I had taken voluntarily to escape the confines of my island home.

I have been in this city for two weeks, operating under the guise of 'Kaoru Murase,' a Japanese international banking manager attending the capital's annual training seminar. In truth, I, Yumiko Sakaki, was on an assignment on behalf of the reformed 'CIRS.,' an agency reinstated after disbandment three years ago. After the Thanatos system was shut down, Yuuji Kazami killed the international terrorist Heath Oslo.

Although Yuuji had no desire to rejoin 'CIRS,' it was inevitable. As a soldier, with his level of expertise and espionage, his skills were necessary to governments worldwide. Once Yuuji rejoined, we (Amane, Michiru, Sachi, Makina, and I) decided to join as well; that was over a year ago.

Before CIRS disbanded, the five of us, as well as Chizuru Tachibana and Yulia Harudera (JB for short) - Yuuji's boss and guardian, had worked together to save Yuuji and the very core of his past had been revealed.

After the incident, we retreated to an island paradise to avoid such conflicts. Still, once again, we found ourselves pulled into the danger of world affairs.

I was here, in Amsterdam, for that very reason; international banks have been funding a secret project. The investigators from CIRS had pinpointed the city of Amsterdam suspected of money laundering.

"Ah... Murase-san, you look adorable tonight," Sem DeVries, a fellow manager at the capital bank, blurted out. The Norwegian was drunk and had flirted openly with me over the past two weeks; no rebuff, no matter how subtle or aggressive, had swayed him. "I still say you're too young to be a manager... You look like a teenager," he whispered as he leaned over me, and I forced myself not to recoil from his alcohol breath.

The fact that Sem kept stating that I looked like a teenager yet still chose to hit on me spoke volumes. I wanted to say that, but instead, I said, "Why, thank you, Sem-sama," and smiled. "I'm happy to know I still project such a youthful image."

"You're not even drinking, babe," Sem said, slid closer, and tried to press his lager of 'Maximator' to my lips.

"Hey, Sem!" a voice hailed from the opposite end of the table. "The boss is on the phone," Bram de Wit, a colleague and friend of Sem's, yelled while holding up a cell phone.

"Damn," Sem muttered but drew back; he stood and swaggered down the table to take the call. I looked up and mouthed a silent thanks to Bram, who smiled an apology and turned to escort his buddy outside.

"You have to be a bit firmer in your refusals," Bethany Atkins from the American branch stated. "Unfortunately, some guys don't know when 'no' means no.'"

"Yes... thank you, Beth-san, I shall remember!" I said, pushed back my chair, stood, and bowed. "Ah... which way to the restroom?" I asked.

"Past the bar, down that corridor, on the left," Beth pointed to the back of the cafe.

"Thank you," I murmured and turned away.

"She's way too nice," another woman said to Beth.

"It's the culture," she responded. "Had it been me, I would've punched Sem's lights out..."

I could only smile at the stereotype; honestly, these women had no clue that 'my culture' was the same as any other. Some women stood up for themselves in this male-dominated world. Amane was one, and from hearsay, so was Asako (Yuji's master and trainer). Punching Sem's lights out would have been the mildest option for either.

On entering the ladies' room, I noticed it was empty. I walked over to the mirror and looked at my image. After three years in a tropical paradise, my skin was no longer pale but had a golden tan. My dark hair reached the back of my knees, highlighted by the sun, producing amethyst highlights that matched my eyes.

I was never one concerned with looks; I considered myself average. I never compared myself to Amane, Sachi, or Michiru, at least not until last year.

After Oslo's death, the end of CIRS, and our retreat to the island, six women and one man living together became somewhat chaotic, with us all vying for Yuuji's attention. Kazuki, Yuuji's sister, finally found a solution; each of us was assigned an entire day out of the week to spend with Yuuji.

Sunday was Kazuki's day to spend with her brother; Yuuji had said he had given his sister the beginning of the week because of her personality. With her high IQ and penchant for mind games, Yuuji felt drained at the end of each interlude.

Makina was Monday; Yuuji stated that their youngest member was easy-going and less demanding of all the women, and his time with her was more of a vacation after dealing with Kazuki.

Tuesday was Michiru's day; although the young woman's identity disorder was somewhat cured, she was still too dramatic and overly energetic that Yuuji felt he was on a rollercoaster ride each time they were together.

Sachi was Wednesday; she had a pleasing personality, unless in battle mode, polite and obedient.

Thursday was Amane's time with Yuuji, and the busty siren was a hard act to follow. I had grown to love Amane; she was a friend but was sexy as hell and made no secret of her feelings for Yuuji nor restrained herself from acting upon them. I always worried that Yuuji would find me, his girl Friday, lacking in comparison after spending time with the vivacious redhead. Therefore, although I waited anxiously for my day with Yuuji, I also dreaded it.

Saturday was Yuuji's day. He was free to do whatever he liked, with whomever he pleased. As far as I knew, Yuuji had always spent his days alone and away from the island. Although we all were curious, we had never inquired about where he had gone or with whom he had spent time. I knew what Yuuji and the others did together; I wasn't foolish enough to think he and I were the only ones having sex.

Sunday through Thursday, I made myself scarce. I immersed myself on the internet, browsing the web; I read or escaped to the other side of the island with an easel to paint in solitude.

In the beginning, it was my feelings for Yuuji that I participated in this harem of misfits. I only knew I wanted to be with him, and that was all that mattered to me at the time. But after living together for over three years, my feelings have become even stronger, but not my patience.

Secretly, I was hoping that Yuuji would eventually make a choice. I never liked sharing or wanted to, yet I allowed my heart to rule my head and threw away my common sense.

This seraglio could not continue; I came to that conclusion nearly six months ago. However, it was not until this mission came across the database that I decided to act, to try living again in the natural world, leaving our island paradise and Yuuji.

A month ago, JB had come to the island to recruit Amane for this mission. Instead of a bank manager, the original role was a ditzy secretary using her charms to infiltrate the ones behind the banking fraud.

Amane left the island weekly for supplies and groceries, as only she and Yuuji could operate the small aircraft. Of the three years on the island, I could count on one hand the number of times I had left to visit the mainland.

I was a coward; I was running away, but I had to, or else I would go mad. I needed to breathe - to test my limits, taking baby steps to a future without this harem menagerie. So, I volunteered for the mission instead of Amane by convincing JB that sending me instead of her made more sense. I argued that not only did I have a managerial degree, but thanks to my father's business connections, I was no stranger to the finance world. Not to mention, sending me would eliminate additional resources. Instead of sending an executive type and secretary, I could function independently and fulfill both roles.

There was much opposition from JB and the other women, but I held firm. Although shocked at the request, Yuuji stayed silent, withholding his opinion, at least in my presence.

Finally, JB gave in and made all the necessary arrangements. Amane and Michiru inquired why I had volunteered, and I responded, "It's been a while; I'd like to see how much I've grown." Yuuji never asked; although present while the mission details were discussed, besides an occasional nod or grunt, he did not say a word.

The morning I was scheduled to leave to start my mission, Yuuji traveled with me from the island to the mainland. We exchanged pleasantries during the ride. He wished me good luck at the airport, and that was all.

Four days later, I was on a plane headed to Amsterdam equipped with a new identity passport and prepped for my role as Kaoru Murase, an international bank manager from the Kyoto branch.

It was ironic that the day of my flight was Thursday, Amane's day with Yuuji, and I realized I would miss my first Friday with him in the entire three years.

Amsterdam was a beautiful city; from the museums, outdoor cafes, shopping districts, and boat tours, I was so enthralled with the sights that it took a warning from JB's surveillance team to remind me that this was a mission, not a vacation.

Meeting with the bankers on the first day was a breeze, and I felt my confidence grow with each encounter. Begrudgingly, I had to admit I had learned much from my estranged father about business and finances. It's too bad he would never know the extent of his daughter's abilities.

The only problem was socializing. I needed more confidence in this area. I was a loner, a bookworm - a nerd, and felt more comfortable with my laptop than with people, but things weren't all bad.

Bethany and a few of the female members were friendly, some of the men also, and then there were some like Sem, a perverted, married ass-hole who chased anything in a skirt. However, I was determined to master this socializing thing, even if it killed me. If this mission succeeded, I hoped that JB would grant me a permanent position on the mainland.

After smoothing my hair and applying fresh makeup, I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. A genuine smile this time, not the practiced ones used on my acquaintances, although they appeared to work.

I had never worn makeup before; I never felt the need; however, the fake ID stated my age was twenty-six, and JB felt using cosmetics would help me appear older than my twenty years. A light foundation and nude matte shade lipstick were my experiments' extent.

Another day or two and this mission would be over. I had finally keyed into who the culprit might be, and the only thing left was to report to the surveillance team and allow JB to run the numbers.

Exiting the restroom, I rejoined the group at the table. The atmosphere was different; everything appeared the same, yet something was different. I felt uncomfortable, as if someone was watching me. Of course, there was - the surveillance team had been monitoring me since the beginning of the mission. As far as I knew, there were cameras and listening devices in my hotel room.

After another half-hour of conversation, drinking, and tom-foolery, I called it a night. I stood and gathered my things, turned to Bethany and company to bid everyone good night.

Upon leaving the cafe, the eerie sensation persisted; it took everything in me not to turn around as I strode down the stone streets to my hotel. I felt safer entering the foyer but clammed up in the crowded elevator. On the 8th floor, I was the only person who got off, yet I still felt eyes upon me as I made my way to my room.

Sliding in the key card, I opened the door, closed it, and slid the chain lock on. Leaning back against the door. I took a deep, calming breath; only then did the feeling subside.

My eyes slowly swept the room as I removed my shoes before pushing away from the door. I walked through the suite and entered the bedroom. Climbing on the bed, I stretched out on my stomach and then rolled over to stare at the ceiling.

"I can do this," I said to myself.

It had only been three weeks since leaving the island, and I was doing much better than expected. I missed Yuuji. I missed his stoicism, bland monotone, and his dry wit. I missed our nights together, his embrace. Of course, I even missed the girls, but I knew I could no longer live that life.

I loved Yuuji, but I'm sure we all loved him in our own way. The selfish woman I was wanted him to choose me, although I knew it would hurt the others. My rational side knew he would never choose, so I had to remove myself from the equation. I wanted an everyday life, an exclusive love, yet I had never experienced either. Based on my knowledge of Yuuji's past, neither had he, but I at least wanted to try.

How long I lay there, my eyes following the intricate pattern on the ceiling, I don't know, but I'm sure at some point, I must have dozed off. Although it only seemed like minutes, according to the bedside clock, an hour and forty minutes had passed since I entered the suite.

With a groan, I sat up. I needed to brush and braid my hair, as well as shower before going to bed. With a sigh, I slid off the mattress, stood, swung my hair over my shoulder, and reached back to unzip my dress.

Cold fingers covered mine; I panicked and spun around, scrambling over the bed to distance the intruder from me. To scream never came to mind, knowing the room was under surveillance.

"Who are you?" I whispered into the darkened room.

It was still light when I arrived earlier, but now it was past sunset, and the room was cast in shadow. A form moved, and even before the light from the moon illuminated his features, I recognized that physique.

"Yuuji!" I gasped. "What in heaven's name are you doing here?"

Next: Yuuji's POV

Chapter Text

In a black, mid-sized sedan parked a block away from the corner cafe, I sat watching the flip-down monitor mounted inside the roof of the car. It was only a 12-inch screen, and I wished the monitor was more substantial. I wanted an enhanced vision of the young woman in the chic, charcoal grey business suit who sat at a table with several suspects.

I, Yuuji Kazami, arrived in Amsterdam this morning and met with JB and Chizuru to check the investigation status. The reformed CIRS had traced all activities in international money laundering to this bustling town in the Netherlands. Still, they had yet to reveal who was behind it or why, which bothered me.

"Aww... are you worried about Sakaki-san?" JB said as she opened the rear door, slid into the back seat, and handed me a coffee from the convenience store across the street. "Yumiko's doing much better than we are right now," my blonde boss teased. "The 410 Cafe sells the 'real deal,' not this styrofoam stuff we're drinking."

"It's just coffee," I murmured, never taking my eyes off the screen. The Norwegian, identified as Sem DeVries, a local capital bank manager and a 'high-on-the-list' suspect, sat next to Yumiko.

The man was too close, in my opinion, fawning over her, and out of nowhere, I had the strongest urge to break that bastard's arm that was thrown so casually across the back of Yumiko's chair.

"What the hell is she doing?" I muttered, feeling antsy for some reason.

"She?" I heard JB utter, shocked. "It's him," my boss barked and tapped the image of the guy on the screen, offended. "Don't blame Yumiko! That guy's been a pain in the ass since day one. He's an octopus, and after a few drinks, he's a drunken one with suction cup feelers, and you're blaming Sakaki?"

"All she needs to do is move... or something," I said, trying to sound logical, although I wasn't feeling it.

"This is her first mission," JB spat. "Give the girl a break, would you? Since she's planning on becoming a regular, I'll make sure she's properly trained to deal with dicks like Sem."

"What?" My head whipped around to stare incredulously at JB. "Regular? Who's becoming a regular?" I asked, staring directly into my boss's baby-blue eyes. "Did Yumiko...?"

"Ah... I thought... I thought you knew," JB gasped, shocked. "Hey, look, if..."

"No worries, JB," I said, settling back in the seat and turning back to the monitor.

"But, Yuuji..."

"I said no worries." My tone ended the topic, and JB and I fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Sem was leaning over Yumiko now, attempting to get her to drink from his glass, forcing his drink and himself on her. Through it all, she smiled prettily and rebuffed him gently.

Where was Yumiko's boxcutter spirit from when we first met? The dark-haired, loner, and spit-fire had tried to slash me several times with her industrial weapon for no reason.

"I'll be back," I suddenly said to JB. I placed my coffee in the cupholder and reached for the door handle.

"Yuuji, wait! What are you doing?" JB pulled at my arm. "This is an eight-month investigation; don't do anything stupid."

"When have I ever?" I asked and gently removed her hand before stepping out of the car. I withdrew my black leather jacket, put it on, and leaned down to look at JB's face, etched with worry. "I'll check on Yumiko and the octopus, but I'll be discreet. She won't even know I'm there."

JB looked doubtful and like she wanted to say something more, but I shut the door and turned toward the cafe.

The end of the block seemed so far away, as my tennis-clad feet barely made a sound on the cobblestone streets. As I walked, I tried to envision Yumiko becoming an active member of CIRS, but I couldn't, nor did I want to. It was her life, her choice, and I had no right to interfere.

Michiaki Sakaki, Yumiko's father, tried to control her life, forcing me and JB to take desperate measures by faking the young woman's death to free her from her paternal parent's influence. Yumiko was finally coming into her own and exerting herself; that's what I've always wanted for her, wasn't it?

I entered the cafe; Yumiko's seat was empty, and my eyes tactfully searched the room as I headed for the bar and sat in the last chair in the back corner. With my back to the wall, I had a clear view of the entire room, and I noticed a drunken Sem sitting with a group of women, relieved that Yumiko was not among them. Where the hell was she?

"What can I get'cha?"

I turned to the barkeep and murmured, "An order of bitterballen and a koffie verkeerd." The big, burly guy nodded and yelled back to the kitchen.

Yumiko appeared from the opposite side of the bar, and I looked up to see the restroom sign directly above her head. I watched her take a deep breath, preparing to immerse herself in the role of 'Kaoru Murase,' Japanese international banking manager from the Kyoto branch, before heading back to her table and associates.

From my corner vantage point, I observed Yumiko interact with the others and realized how much she had grown. She appeared more relaxed in the presence of others, but old habits were hard to break. I sensed the brunette was overwhelmed; Yumiko's smile was charming but forced, and the light in her eyes had started to dim.

When we first met, Yumiko Sakaki was a distrusting, boxcutter-wielding vigilante with a prissy attitude. Somehow, we worked through all that and formed a friendship that had progressed into something I have yet to give a name to.

Finishing the last of my bitterballen, I noticed Yumiko preparing to leave. I had already paid my tab, anticipating a hasty departure; I thanked the barkeep with a nod and followed behind Yumiko.

Exiting the cafe, the woman was already halfway down the block. I crossed the street and followed her discreetly until she reached her lodgings.

The main foyer was all glass; I stood across the street watching Yumiko enter the elevator before crossing over and entering the hotel.

Yumiko's suite number was in the files I had reviewed earlier. Although I did not possess a keycard, I had confiscated the passcode from the report to access the suite.

Taking a seat in the hotel lobby, I waited twenty minutes, pseudo-browsing through the latest fashion and gossip magazines before taking the elevator to the eighth floor.

I entered the suite; it was quiet. Removing my shoes, I strode softly through the small sitting area and went down the corridor to the bedroom.

Yumiko was splayed vertically across the bed, on her back, fully clothed, minus her suit jacket and shoes. Her head faced the window, and I moved to that side. Dark hair kissed by the sun flared around her head and spilled over the side, nearly brushing the carpet. As I stood looking down at her sleeping face, I realized how much I had missed her.

I wanted to reach out and touch Yumiko, stretch out beside her, and pull her close, but I stepped back, deciding to let her rest. Moving to the foot of the bed, I sat in one of the plush chairs and allowed my eyes to feast on her slumbering form.

Yumiko wasn't drop-dead gorgeous like JB, nor did her body possess the voluptuousness of either JB or Amane. Yet neither could hold a candle to the dark-haired kuudere bookworm.

'Girl Friday' - that's what Kazuki called Yumiko, but I never thought of her that way. It was an arrangement between the women in the household, one I did not dispute because it did resolve tensions between the six women.

Three Fridays without her, and I had come to understand how much I relied on Yumiko, on her presence. If I were to apply any label to Kazuki's 'Girl Friday,' Yumiko is my oasis haven.

After her departure from the island, I soon realized how much I had looked forward to the week's end and our time together. Out of all the other women on the island, I could relax with Yumiko; she expected nothing of me and made no demands, as if my being there was enough.

We talked about many subjects; Yumiko had a wealth of theoretical knowledge from her readings and the internet, which we consistently applied and compared to real-life situations.

Sometimes, I would slumber while she painted or sketched, and no words were necessary between us. Sex was an act of pleasure or a stress reliever with the others. But with Yumiko, there was a quality, a sense of fulfillment that was new to me and left me with sensations I had yet to fathom.

The others often teased Yumiko, calling her granny because of her nurturing nature. How often had she soothed my worries with a simple kiss to my brow or an embrace where she massaged the tenseness from my stiff shoulders as she held me tight? To find my head in her lap with those classical fingers threading through my hair was heaven on earth, or at least, what I imagined it would be.

To hear that Yumiko wanted to get deeply involved with CIRS, become a field agent, and leave our island surprised me. I had washed my hands of CIRS but returned because it was my duty and obligation. Against my wishes, Yumiko, Amane, Kazuki, Makina, and Sachi joined. Still, I never expected them to take the field, especially Yumiko.

What had driven her to become an agent? Did Yumiko want to test herself? Was she sick of the island and its solitude, or was it me? If I was the cause of Yumiko's unrest, I needed to know, and I needed to know now.

I heard a soft moan and looked up from my digital watch just as Yumiko sat up and stretched, awakened from her nearly two-hour nap. I watched as she slid off the bed and began fumbling with the back zipper of her dress, and I got up to assist her.

When my hands touched hers, Yumiko recoiled in fright, scrambled over the bed to the opposite side, and whispered, "Who are you?"

Although I knew Yumiko had reason to be fearful, her rejection cut like a knife, leaving me with an odd sensation and an eerie feeling that I could not respond to. Instead, I moved toward her, stepping directly into the path of the light shining in the window.

"Yuuji!" I heard her gasp and saw her visibly relax on recognition. "What in heaven's name are you doing here?"

"Heaven had nothing to do with it, I assure you," I stated.

Yumiko looked stumped, but only briefly, and then she smiled. "Abrupt as always," she said, and I noticed her smile seemed a bit sad. "Seriously, Yuuji, just answer the question: why are you here?"

"I'm here to check the progress of this case, as well as check on my subordinate and team member; it's my job, my duty," I said in a low monotone, as I moved to the other side of the bed to confront her.

"Now, let me ask you a question, Yumi," I began, standing toe-to-toe with her and looking down into her dark eyes. "Why are you running away... again?"

Next & final chapter - JB's POV and the conclusion

Chapter Text

Julia Badera's (JB) POV

With a sigh, I relaxed back into the leather seat of the black sedan, crossing my arms and stocking-clad legs. I, Julia Bardera, better known as JB, watched the young man shut the car door and move steadily toward the small coffee cafe near the corner.

Yuuji Kazami, a former boy soldier and now an assassin for the Japanese government, was a complicated guy. He was just as composed and stoic as he was three years ago, but the young man mellowed a bit after Heath Oslo's death and his years on the island.

These changes in Yuuji were primarily because of Yumiko Sakaki's influence. The young woman may be an introvert, but of all the women on the island, she was the most nurturing, and that was just one trait that appealed to Yuuji.

The brunette with violet eyes was always in the background, maintaining distance from the others. However, Yumiko's isolation is what drew Yuuji's attention. Both had experienced similar emotional detachment in their childhood, and he empathized with her. It was that reason alone that I felt he had gravitated towards her more than the other girls on the island. I was curious whether Yuuji was aware of this himself. He was such a closed book, keeping a tight rein on his emotions, much like his former teacher.

Asako Kusakabe, a former soldier, had also been a member of CIRS and was my childhood friend. While trying to capture Heath Oslo, Asako found a young Yuuji in the terrorist hideout. She took the boy in and raised him, instilling him with her values and ideals (no matter how warped) into the man he is today. Yuuji addressed Asako as 'Master,' and he developed similar traits of the woman's personality under her tutelage.

Both were stoic and stubborn with an acerbic wit, which left one grinding their teeth in frustration, yet both were proficient and humane soldiers.

As I sat nursing the styrofoam cup in my hands, I took a sip of the convenience store coffee and grimaced. I had chosen the bold roast, but the coffee was weak and lacked flavor. It tasted like the instant granules dissolved in boiled water. Disappointed, I put the unsavory brew in the car cup holder and watched Yuuji open the door to the cafe to enter.

Was it my imagination, or did he pause for a second in the doorway? The young man seemed to hover at the entrance and then take a breath before going inside, which was strange to me. Typically, Yuuji was cautious once he decided to move forward but was never hesitant.

Suddenly, my cell phone chimed, startling me from my reverie. The ringtone identified the caller; it was Chiara Farrell, my assistant; she either wanted an update or to provide more intel.

"Yes, Chiara-san," I answered.

"Eureka!" she squealed into the phone. "We've found him!"

"What?!" I uncrossed my legs and sat up straight. "You mean..." I began excitedly and left the rest dangling.

"The 'Bookkeeper'!" Chiara announced, and I sensed her smug smile on the other end. "The black hater of the commerce world, the guy who has revolving doors in nearly every European bank."

"Apprehended?"

"Forty minutes ago," Chiara said. "Our team nabbed him in a market in Naples. To say he was pissed is putting it mildly," she announced but laughed gleefully. "It was all thanks to the drunken mutterings of Sem Devries a couple of nights back. Remember when he was hitting on Yumiko?"

"When was he not?" I added with sarcasm.

"Well, he said some things that connected the dots and led us to the 'Bookkeeper,'" she said. "I swear, the things men will say to get in a woman's panties. Devries loose lips sure sank the 'bookkeepers' ship," she snickered. "Just wanted to let you know. The team should arrive in about six hours. I'm sure you want to be here for the questioning."

"You got that right," I said and then gave praise, "Great work, Chiara!"

"Thanks, boss," she gushed. "Yumiko-chan deserves the most credit. Her first job as a CIRS agent was a success. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear the assignments over, and she can return to her island paradise. See you in six, Ciao!"

The line disconnected, and I waited while my assistant forwarded the itinerary to my phone. Next, I called another team a block away to request a lift to the airport, leaving the car for Yuuji's use later. Sighing, I lowered the phone and placed it on the seat.

Yes, Yumiko would be happy about the fruits of her labors, but I was sure she would not be pleased to return to the island so soon. The young woman was running; from what, I couldn't say with certainty, but I'm sure Yuuji was a big part of it.

As I sat contemplating whether to send a message explaining that the mission was over, I saw Yumiko exit the cafe. Thirty seconds later, Yuuji followed, and both disappeared down a side street leading to the hotel.

A taxi pulled up alongside the sedan; I gathered my purse, leaving the lukewarm coffee behind, and stepped out of the car and into the backseat of the waiting vehicle.

"Kazami-san?" my driver and team member inquired, watching me from the rearview mirror.

"He's otherwise engaged at the moment," I said. A nod was the only response, and we drove off in silence.

We passed the cafe and the street leading to the hotel, but neither Yumiko nor Yuuji was in sight. I decided to give those two some time together to resolve their issues.

It was apparent that Yumiko's decision to take a more active role with CIRS bothered Yuuji, and a part of me understood why. However, whatever my feelings, it was up to them to work things out for themselves.

Yumiko's POV

Why had he come? Couldn't he just let things be - let me be? There was no way I could ever forget him, but I'm trying to move on without him. And then suddenly, he appeared without a word, without warning, asking damnable questions I needed to prepare to answer.

"Why are you running away... again?" he asked directly.

"Because there is no other solution," was the immediate answer in my mind. However, I never voiced it, knowing one sentence would never suffice for Yuuji. And so, I used my feminine wiles, his evident desire for me, and our three-week separation to distract him from his probing questions. Instead of answering, I responded by snuggling into him, rubbing my body against him suggestively.

"Yumiko..." Yuuji began, but I stopped his flow of words with a kiss, not just any kiss, one that was totally out of character for me. It was aggressive-controlling; I felt his surprise, and I also felt his lack of response. Yuuji's lips were stiff and unyielding, but he did not push me away; he let me finish my wild surge until I finally broke the kiss and pulled back. I would have moved away entirely, but his hands on my upper arms held me still.

I sensed Yuuji's confusion at my actions, his mind working to make sense of it all, and his disappointment. I couldn't look him in the eyes; instead, I focused on the neckline of his sweater. Why was I afraid? Why couldn't I simply tell him my decision? Was I really that much of a coward?

Yuuji's hands slid up my arms and skimmed across my shoulders and neck. Next, he cupped my face, tilting my head up, and looked into my eyes, and that was my undoing.

I had to tell him; it was only fair. Instead of slinking out of our relationship like a thief in the night, I would take a page from Yuuji's book, taking the brutally honest route.

As I looked into his eyes, I finally realized my greatest fear and leaving him, wasn't it.

Yuuji had done so much for me; he had changed how I viewed life and given me a new lease on it. But what had I done for him? Truthfully, I was afraid of my insignificance to the man I loved. Had I made any contributions to our relationship? Had I positively impacted his life in any way? And was it enough that he would miss me, even think of me when I was gone?

Tears welled; I blinked them back, took a deep breath, and opened my mouth to speak. "Yuuji, I..."

He lowered his head and kissed me, cutting off my words like I had stopped his. But, unlike mine, Yuuji's lips were gentle; they caressed mine, his tongue softly probing and requesting entry. I melted under his guidance and granted him access.

I became putty in Yuuji's arms. Where he led, I followed. Three weeks without him, and my traitorous body responded with wild abandon. So swept up in this passionate tide, I never felt him lower us to the bed until his body pressed mine into the mattress. Yuuji's hands started to roam, leaving a scorching trail of heat that consumed me, and he had yet to remove one item of clothing from my body.

Yuuji's lips never left mine as deft fingers dealt with the row of buttons at the back of my dress. With each clasp unfastened, he lifted his head, pulled away, and removed my remaining clothes. He tossed them somewhere behind him, leaving me clad only in a bra, panties, and stockings. Even though his face was in shadow, I could feel his eyes on me, and I heard Yuuji draw a sharp breath.

He leaned over me; his hands slid slowly over my body. His fingers skimmed the sides of my breast, then followed the contours of my waist and hips to the top of my thighs. Taking his time, he slid each slip of nylon from each leg before removing the last barriers of clothing. I reached for him, but he captured my hands and lifted my arms above my head as he, fully clothed, stretched out next to me and recaptured my waiting lips. So drunk from Yuuji's kisses, so heady from his explorations, I was unaware that he had tied my hands, with my stocking, to the railing of the brass headboard.

I gasped and broke the kiss. "Yuuji?" I asked, peering at him through the dark while pulling my arms to test the restraint. "What is this?" I inquired calmly, knowing he would never harm me in any way.

"Do you trust me, Yumiko?" he whispered and sat up.

"Of course, I trust you," I said without hesitation. "What kind of question is that?"

"Thank you," he said, and I sensed a smile. Yuuji stood and began to undress before rejoining me on the bed. "Let me..." he began as he slid close; his hands skimmed over my breasts, his palms grazing the sensitive nubs. He seemed to want to say something but changed his mind; instead, he said, "Feel, Yumiko - just feel." And I did.

What followed set me on the road of euphoric enlightenment. With my hands bound, I could only receive and discover more about myself, my body, and its sexual nature. I had never reached these heights before. Yuuji's lips and tongue probed and teased, leaving a hot trail from my head to my toes; his fingers explored, enhancing the sensitivity of intimate areas while discovering new ones, to my surprise and fulfillment. Soft whimpers transformed into panting gasps, muffled moans, and mewling squeals as I reached my peak repeatedly. When Yuuji untied my hands and finally took me, I was a quivering mass of flesh.

He looked into my eyes as he entered me with maddening slowness and then leaned in, burying his face in my neck, as he withdrew and reentered, again and again. Although spent from Yuuji's bondage foreplay, I felt an orgasmic resurge. Our passion built, crescendoed, and then spiraled out of control. This time, I clung to him, holding him tight against me. My legs trembled from the sensations evoked, but I locked my legs around his waist, matching him thrust for thrust until our bodies convulsed and we cried out each other's names.

Yuuji's POV

I came because I was concerned about my subordinate, roommate, friend, and lover. At least, that is what I told myself.

Somewhere between leaving the island and coming face-to-face with Yumiko, I had convinced myself that I was only checking on the welfare of the only woman in years who made me feel at peace.

"Why are you running away... again?"

I had asked directly. It was the only way I knew to communicate. Asako-sama used to say - the more words exchanged, the more room for misunderstandings. Unfortunately, everyone was not like my former master, who was blunt to the point of rudeness. Asako-sama had retreated from the world and had created a haven in the mountains. However, here, in the natural, living world, those rules did not apply.

Looking down on Yumiko, her eyes were sad, her expression pained. I sensed she wanted to say something but leaned into me instead. Her hands were splayed across my chest, caressing through my clothes, and then she inched her thigh between mine.

My body reacted immediately, and I'm sure Yumiko felt my desire swelling against her stomach. I sucked in a breath and suppressed a shudder; I wanted her - Kami, how I wanted her; it had been three weeks. However, she and I needed to talk and clear the air; that's what's more important right now.

"Yumiko..." I began but was silenced as she grabbed my hair and pulled my head down, her mouth covering mine. It was less of a kiss and more of an assault on the senses. Shock held me still while Yumiko ground her lips against mine, panicked and desperate. Confused, I could not respond, nor did I want to. Her aggression was stifling, reminding me of Amane, who seemed to enjoy dominating. This woman, the Yumiko kissing me now, was not the kindred spirit I knew.

It was clear she was avoiding my question, and I wondered at her reluctance to answer and her desperate measures of using sex to silence me. On the island, Yumiko always spoke freely. Was this the influence of working as a CIRS agent and exposure to the outside world? If so, then all the more reason for her to return to the island and - to me.

Finally, Yumiko ended her assault; she relinquished my lips and stepped back. She intended to move away, but I reached out and held her still with one hand, and the other tilted her face up to look into my eyes. What I saw reflected in hers caused an odd sensation in my chest; those violet orbs held hopelessness, sorrow, and fear.

Unable to think of anything that could have occurred to cause these feelings, I wondered if somehow Michiaki Sakaki, Yumiko's father, had discovered his daughter was still alive.

No - both JB and I had been thorough in faking her death. So, what was it that was making Yumiko feel this way?

As I looked down at her, tears pooled at the corner of her violet eyes, threatening to spill. Yumiko seemed so small, so vulnerable, and like before with her father, I wanted to help her - protect her. She opened her mouth, intending to speak, but my instincts told me to stop her. As she called my name, I took heed, pulled her to me, and kissed her - soundly, yet tenderly.

Love - the word popped into my head the moment our lips met. I had never been in love, never thought to be, and would most likely not recognize it if it were ever to occur. According to Asako, love was just a feeling. The sensation was just as fleeting as the seasons (if it lasted that long), just as unpredictable, and to avoid it at all costs.

"Plain ole' sex is better and a lot less complicated. Just banging each other until the feeling subsides; no commitments - no expectations."

Asako's pessimistic, possibly realistic, words rang in my ears, and I pushed them aside. As I lowered Yumiko down to the bed, I realized my feelings for her were different, and I believed what I felt was as close to love as I would ever get. Nothing had subsided three weeks on the island without her; if anything, it had multiplied. That intensity, our separation, and my need for her forced me to take drastic measures. What I couldn't say with words, I would convey through my actions.

My hands roamed Yumiko's body, kneading, stroking, and caressing the most sensitive areas through her clothes before undressing her. As I peeled silk stockings from her satiny skin, I thought of a way to express my emotions.

Yumiko was always so giving; she gave more of herself than any other woman on that island, especially with me.

I pulled away from her embrace and stood back, my eyes feasting on her nakedness. Cloaked in the shadow of the darkened room, I could not see her clearly, but I didn't need to; every line and curve I had recorded to memory. Yumiko's body was slender and well-proportioned in all the right places. Her moderate-sized breasts were high and firm, perfect for my hands. She had a tiny waist, slightly flared hips, an incredible round bottom, great legs, and dainty feet. She was not considered a classical beauty by society's standards, but she was the ideal woman for me.

Yumiko moved to reach for me, only to find her hands bound by her stockings. Lying naked and exposed, she inquired what I was doing in a mildly curious tone. Trying to explain that I wanted to comfort her and ease her worries by giving pleasure without receiving, in my manner of speaking, would not have gone over very well, as my vocal cords could not produce emotional tones.

"Do you trust me, Yumiko?" I asked, suddenly unsure. Maybe tying her up wasn't the best form of seduction.

"Of course, I trust you," she answered, and then... "What kind of question is that?"

Put at ease, I smiled and thanked Yumiko as I undressed. "Feel, Yumiko - just feel," I requested as I lay beside her. "Let me..." I began but was at a loss for words. My hands touched, fondled, caressed, and stroked every inch of her beautiful body, expressing what I could not verbally convey through touch. My lips tasted and nibbled, my mouth leaving a hot trail from Yumiko's soft earlobes to the toes of her small feet. I drank the very essence of this woman, taking pleasure in every hiss, sigh, and moan spewing from her lips in her passionate frenzy.

Yumiko ascended repeatedly; my body was taut and ached to soar with her. Feeling her descent from the last apogee, I moved over her and entered slowly, more for my sake than hers. It had been three long weeks since I had touched Yumiko, and I wanted this moment to last.

I felt her arms close around me and realized she had somehow freed herself from the silken bonds. Burying my face in her neck, I fought to delay the inevitable. Our joined bodies ebbed and flowed, crest falling and trough rising like the ocean during a tumultuous storm. We rode the waves in perfect sync, giving, receiving, demanding. We cried out, reaching our peak, and then shuddered in the aftermath of calm seas.

XXXXX

Clothes, thrown haphazardly, littered the bedroom floor of the hotel suite. The two occupants in the room, on the bed, were both satiated from their coupling. However, the outcome did not have the effect that either expected. The atmosphere was awkward and strained; instead of basking in the aftermath, the two were tenser than they were two hours ago.

Yumiko lay on her side, facing away from Yuuji, feigning sleep. She was ashamed; this was the first time she had tried to use sex as a tool, and, filled with regret, she could not face him. And worst of all, what was so embarrassing was that Yuuji had seen right through her.

Yuuji lay on his back next to Yumiko, staring up at the ceiling. He was confused and unsure of what more he could do to fix what was broken. He and Yumiko should be talking now, ironing out the problem, instead of her pretending to sleep. With a groan, he sat up and swung his legs to the floor. He raised his hands and covered his face as he inhaled deep.

"I'm sorry, Yuuji," Yumiko whispered in the dark. "This is not the reunion I imagined."

"Nor I," he responded. A long silence followed, and without turning around, Yuuji began, "Yumiko, if I've done something..."

"It's not you, it's me," she stated, interrupting. Yumiko also sat up and swung her legs over the other side of the bed. "It's me," she repeated. "I'm the selfish one."

"You're a lot of things, Yumiko," Yuuji began as he turned to her. "But selfish is not a word I would ever associate with you."

He heard her sigh and then watched as she combed her fingers through her hair. "Unfortunately, that's not true," she said softly, reached over, and turned on the bedside lamp.

Yuuji slid across the bed and sat next to Yumiko. "What's troubling you?" he asked and was met with silence. Her head was angled away from him, with her dark hair shielding her face and covering her breasts. "Back on the island, you and I can talk about anything together, no matter how personal. Why not now?"

"The island," Yumiko muttered, staring blankly. She closed her eyes and inhaled before turning to Yuuji, shaking her head. He didn't get it, she thought. Or maybe he did and could not dismiss the other wants and desires of the other lives on that island, not even for her.

Yuuji's phone hummed; he got up from the bed, looking through the clothes on the floor to locate his jacket. Once found, he opened his phone and answered, "Yes, JB."

"Hey, there; just checking in!" the blonde's voice came across the line. "Are you with Yumiko?"

"I am." Yuuji was blunt.

"Well, I have good news; put me on speaker."

As Yuuji stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes met Yumiko's, and she nodded in acquiescence. He hit the speaker button and murmured, "Go ahead, JB."

"We've got him!" JB stated. "The bookkeeper was apprehended a few hours ago; he's being transported to headquarters as we speak."

"That's great, JB!" Yumiko began excitedly and then dimmed as she realized the implications of the culprit's capture. The mission was over, and now she must return to the island. "That's... great," she muttered with less enthusiasm.

Both JB and Yuuji sensed the dismay in the young woman's tone, which revealed that Yumiko was not ready to return home just yet.

"It's better than great, Yumi-chan! How long have we been after this guy?" JB's voice echoed in the room. "Your first job was a success, girl! Get your butt back to headquarters tomorrow, and we'll celebrate before your next mission. How's your French?"

"JB..." Yuuji growled a warning but was cut off by Yumiko.

"More than sufficient," the brunette answered readily. "Are we talking about Paris?"

"Nothing so glamorous, I'm afraid," JB chuckled. "Are you game?"

"Of course."

"Wonderful! I'll have the team start working on your new identity," JB informed the rookie agent. "We'll fill you in on the details when you arrive."

"Yes, and... thanks, JB.," the relief was evident in Yumiko's voice.

"Je vous remercie pour votre travail acharné," the blond rattled off in french, thanking the brunette for her hard work. "You had the patience of a saint when dealing with that Devries guy. Now, Yuuji..."

"Goodnight, JB," the young man hissed before closing the phone with a snap, cutting the connection.

The room was deathly quiet. Yumiko, taken aback, could only stare at Yuuji who stood still at the foot of the bed, looking away and holding the phone so tight that, if he had the strength, he might have crushed it.

Without a word, Yuuji moved to the opposite side of the bed and set the phone on the nightstand. The device started to ring again, but he ignored it and relaxed against the pillows, closing his eyes.

"Yuuji, answer that," Yumiko admonished. "How could you hang up on your superior that way?"

Again, silence.

By the fourth ring, Yumiko leaned over to reach across Yuuji to pick up the phone, but his voice checked her.

"Leave it!" he uttered in an ominous tone. "I'll talk with JB tomorrow." And as if on cue, the phone stopped ringing.

"Let's call it a night, okay? Is it alright for me to sleep here?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Sure," Yumiko responded with a sad smile. Why would he think otherwise? She slid over to her side of the mattress, switched off the light, and lay down next to Yuuji on the queen-sized bed with vast space between them.

Neither slept; an hour passed, maybe two, as they lay together in silence. Yuuji's breathing was even, and he never shifted his position as he stared at the ceiling. Yumiko tossed and turned, sighing each time she moved.

"Tell me something," Yuuji began suddenly, dispelling the quiet in the room. "Are you ever planning to return to the island?" he asked.

Rolling over on her back, Yumiko also stared up at the ceiling as her mind worked to formulate an answer, an honest answer that would satisfy them both. Nearly five minutes had passed before Yumiko finally spoke bluntly and without hesitation.

"I will return when every day... is Friday."

La Fin