In the bathroom.
Rina stood in front of the sink, brushing her teeth while looking into the mirror.
Fried food was just too delicious.
She had no idea what she’d been missing in her past life.
Rina walked out of the bathroom, fully content, and headed toward the second bedroom.
She closed the door.
Rina turned around and ran her hand along the inside of the door.
Then her fingers stopped.
There was no lock on the inside of the door.
No bolt, no latch, no mechanism to lock it from within. Only a smooth, plain doorknob and the clean white paint covering the door’s surface.
Rina stared at that doorknob for a full three seconds.
This room couldn’t be locked.
Her mind started racing.
What did this mean?
It meant that kidnapper could push open this door at any time, and she had no physical way to stop her.
Middle of the night.
Three in the morning.
While she was fast asleep.
That woman, strong enough to lift her without a single tremble, could silently open this door, stand by her bed, and then…
And then what?
Strip her clothes?
Touch her body?
Kiss her, hold her, or even… go further?
Rina felt every hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
“The kidnapper said she wouldn’t force me for now…”
“But she never said she wouldn’t attack me!”
She screamed inwardly.
“Force” and “attack” were two completely different concepts.
Forcing was going all the way against her will. Attacking was… taking advantage while she was asleep.
This was a self-service buffet, wasn’t it?
She was the buffet, wasn’t she?
Rina rushed to the bed in three quick steps and threw herself into the covers.
She pulled the blanket off her body, spread it flat, then crawled inside. From within, she tucked the blanket’s edges under her body, wrapped it around once, then wrapped it again.
By the third layer of wrapping, she had fully become a silkworm baby…
Only a single white fur ball of a head poked out from one end of the blanket cocoon, her sky-blue eyes staring warily at the door.
The limp, relaxed feeling from eating her fill just moments ago was completely washed away by this surge of alertness.
But the warmth of the food-filled stomach surged back up.
The fullness spread outward from her belly like a giant blanket, wrapping her limbs in a soft, heavy cocoon.
Carbon drowsiness.
She’d eaten too fast.
Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier…
The blanket was wrapped tight, the mattress cradled every curve of her body, and the pillow’s height meant her neck didn’t have to work at all.
Every physical need had been satisfied.
She fell asleep.
Her small lips parted slightly, breath slowly escaping her mouth, eyelashes resting peacefully against her cheeks, silver-white hair scattered across the pale pink pillow.
***
The entire apartment fell quiet.
The city lights outside the floor-to-ceiling window flickered on and off, a warm yellow night light glowed at the end of the corridor, and every other room sank into darkness.
The silence lasted for what felt like an eternity.
Then.
The door to the second bedroom was pushed open.
Hisaki stood at the entrance.
She didn’t step inside.
She only stood there for a few seconds, her dark red eyes faintly glowing in the darkness.
Then she saw the lump on the bed.
The white blanket wrapped tightly around a small body, bundled three layers deep, rolled up securely, with only a head peeking out from the very top of the blanket cocoon.
She wrapped herself up like a glutinous rice dumpling.
Hisaki smiled.
Was she afraid of a night raid?
She walked into the room, her feet stepping onto the fluffy round carpet, toes sinking into the plush fibers without making a single sound.
She stopped at the bedside, then slowly, crouched down.
Little Shiro’s face was right in front of her.
Hisaki looked at that face.
One month.
She had watched her from the bridge for an entire month.
Across the distance of the bridge surface, through the shadows of the bridge underpass, across the height that could never be crossed.
Back then, she could only stand on the bridge and look down, watching that white fur ball toss and turn on the old sofa, yawn, and dangle her feet while wiggling her slippers.
She carved every frame into her mind, then brought it home, developed it into photographs alone in the darkroom, and pasted them on the wall, one after another.
And now…
Little Shiro was here.
The little Shiro she’d finally managed to kidnap.
Right now, she was sleeping peacefully, within arm’s reach.
Hisaki felt her chest filling with something, so full that breathing became slightly difficult.
She reached out her hand, her fingertip hovering above Rina’s cheek, not touching the skin, just a millimeter away, feeling the warmth radiating from beneath that thin layer of flesh.
Then her fingertip landed gently.
The pad of her finger touched Rina’s lips.
So soft.
Softer than she had ever imagined.
Hisaki’s thumb lightly traced across Rina’s lower lip, the sensation traveling up from her fingertip, delicate and soft, with the careless parted look of someone deep in sleep.
Then the tip of her nose, small and upturned. When her fingertip brushed across it, Rina wrinkled her nose in her sleep, let out a muffled hum, but didn’t wake.
Hisaki withdrew her hand, braced both hands on the edge of the bed, and slowly leaned her upper body forward.
Her shadow fell across little Shiro’s face, then the shadow grew closer and darker.
She lowered her head, and her lips touched the corner of Rina’s mouth.
No aggression, no possessiveness. Only a near-ritualistic confirmation.
…You are mine.
My little Shiro, and only mine.
Hisaki’s lips lingered at the corner of Rina’s mouth for three seconds.
Then she straightened up.
Little Shiro was still sleeping, breathing steady, eyelashes still, lips still slightly parted.
The kiss was so light that she hadn’t noticed it at all.
Hisaki stood up, took one last look at the little Shiro wrapped up like a dumpling on the bed, then turned and walked toward the door.
When she reached the doorway, she paused, glanced back at the silver-white head on the bed.
Then she reached out, grasped the doorknob, and gently pulled the door closed.
Little Shiro was here, in her home, in her bed, somewhere she could reach out and touch.
That was enough.
Hisaki leaned against the wall outside the second bedroom, looked up at the warm yellow light on the corridor ceiling, and whispered in a voice only she could hear.
“Good night, my little Shiro.”