“I… I’ll just go outside and make a call, take care of this trash. I won’t leave… You’re safe here…”
Rika Kawasaki pressed her lips together, which had also been bitten and now seeped thin traces of blood in the fierce tangle earlier.
The tip of her tongue seemed to still taste the lingering sweetness and softness left by the other.
She forced herself to stay calm, her voice carrying a slight rasp and an imperceptible tension, deliberately avoiding the bewildered and anxious eyes of Kaoru Hoshitani, hiding her turbulent emotions beneath lowered lashes.
After the long, four or five minute deep kiss that almost stole away all of his breath, she, who had drawn in the sweet scent of the person in her arms like a drought drinking rain, finally felt the wild impulse inside her subside to a certain degree.
It was like the tide receding, easing for a moment, allowing her to regain a bit of her teetering reason, slamming on the brakes at the last second and not allowing herself to follow her instincts into something even more out of control, something truly irreparable.
Otherwise, she would have just played the rescuer, saving him from another woman who intended to violate him, only to turn around and, using her own strength, force herself on him while he was vulnerable.
How would that make her any different from a beast?
That would be… truly inhuman.
“Mm…”
Curling his slender body tightly on top of the cold toilet tank, arms wrapped around his knees in a classic self-protection posture, Kaoru Hoshitani lowered his head and let out a barely audible hum in reply.
At this moment, he was like a frightened small animal wary of anyone who came close, on guard against this woman who had just forcefully kissed him and displayed such aggressive dominance.
He no longer, as before, instinctively flung himself toward her for comfort and protection out of sheer terror.
Instead, he only curled up more tightly, as if trying to shrink his presence and gain a sliver of imaginary safety.
Rika Kawasaki glanced at him deeply; his curled-up figure stirred a complicated emotion in her heart, but she said nothing and turned to the sink.
She twisted on the faucet, letting cold water wash over her knuckles, wiping away the now slightly congealed, dark red bloodstains that belonged to the drunkard lying on the floor.
She scrubbed her hands vigorously, fragrant lather wrapping her palms, washing them over and over as if trying to cleanse not just the stains, but also the moments of lost control just now.
Afterward, she shook the water from her hands, pulled her phone from her pants pocket, dialed a number, spoke a few quick words in a low voice, and then cleanly hung up.
Done with everything, she seemed to need something to calm the lingering turbulence inside her.
She fished a cigarette pack from her jacket pocket, pulled out a slender cigarette, and hurriedly stuck it between her lips.
With a crisp “click,” a metal lighter shot out a blue flame, lighting the cigarette.
She took a deep drag; the spicy smoke rushed into her lungs, bringing a familiar rush.
“Hoo…”
When she tilted her head back and slowly exhaled the smoke—thin, drawn-out, blueish wisps recycled through her chest—it was as if she expelled with it the pent-up frustration and that oppressive irritation toward everything. Her nerves loosened a little.
In this brief emptiness, a curious thought flashed through her mind—
[Is this… what those guys call the so-called ‘post-coital cigarette’ feeling… Even though there was no actual ‘after’…]
Rika Kawasaki unconsciously pressed her lips together again, savoring the vivid sensation from just now.
Come to think of it, that had been her very first… real kiss with a man in her life.
The feeling… wasn’t bad, in fact, it was unexpectedly… addictive.
That softness, tinged with a faint sweetness and the salty taste of tears, was branded in her sensory memory.
Meanwhile, Kaoru Hoshitani, still curled up on the toilet, his chin resting on his knees, couldn’t help but wrinkle his delicate brows when the sharp smell of tobacco drifted through the air.
He’d always disliked cigarette smoke—everyone knew even secondhand smoke was bad for your health.
His girlfriend, Aina Saiten, had occasionally smoked, but once she knew he really couldn’t stand the smell—and with her own habit being mild—she’d quickly quit for his sake.
But now, the bitter smoky scent, in some sense, actually diluted the harsh, stinging odor of disinfectant that filled the bathroom, and didn’t make Kaoru, whose mind was in chaos, feel as repulsed as usual.
They didn’t have to wait long. In the quiet restroom, the roar of a motorcycle engine came from outside, growing nearer.
About a minute later, the bathroom door was rapped on from the outside—”knock, knock, knock.”
Rika Kawasaki immediately stubbed out her cigarette and strode over to unlock and open the door.
Standing outside were two young women in black Motorcycle Jackets—her subordinates, Junior Members, who’d rushed over on her orders.
Rika Kawasaki said nothing, only stepped aside to let them in, then quickly walked back to the stall where Kaoru was, positioning herself like a lioness guarding her territory, her tall, straight form blocking nearly all view of the door.
Originally, when Kaoru Hoshitani heard the voices and footsteps of unfamiliar women outside, his body tensed again, and he nearly started trembling from the stress reaction. But
When he lifted his tear-stained eyes and saw Rika Kawasaki standing firmly in front of him, shielding him from view without hesitation, he instantly understood her intent.
A rush of complex emotions surged inside—lingering fear after his ordeal, grievance and confusion over the forced kiss, but now, mingled in was a genuine gratitude for her protection.
“Leader, this is her, right? What should we do?”
The two Junior Members had their gazes land at once on the woman lying on the floor outside the stall, her face covered in blood, groaning weakly—Yamada.
One of them pointed and checked with Rika Kawasaki.
Of course, the two of them had instantly noticed that behind their Leader, there was still someone in the cramped stall.
Judging by the silhouette and a glimpse of fabric, it was clearly a man.
They exchanged a knowing, slightly gossipy glance, but kept their questions to themselves.
Though Rika Kawasaki blocked the stall door as best she could, it was impossible to shield every gap.
As the two Junior Members bent to lift the limp Yamada, one happened to catch a fleeting glimpse—through the gap between Rika Kawasaki’s leg and the door frame—of the man curled atop the toilet, head bowed, revealing part of a delicate profile and pale, vulnerable neck.
In that instant, the two Junior Members—who’d seen all kinds of people—were stunned.
Their eyes filled with unconcealed amazement and awe, as if they’d glimpsed a work of art that didn’t belong in such a filthy place. For a moment, they forgot what they were doing.
Their brief distraction was quickly noticed by the sharp-eyed Rika Kawasaki.
When her gaze suddenly chilled—like an ice pick, carrying a clear warning—the two snapped out of it, breaking out in a cold sweat.
They didn’t dare look again, and hurriedly hoisted the dead weight of Yamada, leaving in such a rush that their heavy footsteps soon faded away.
Once the bathroom door closed behind them and all outside sounds were cut off, leaving only the two of them in the space, silence spread out once more.
After several seconds, Kaoru Hoshitani slowly raised his head from his curled position.
His eyes were still red but clear as he gazed at the tall figure by the door.
His voice was soft as a sigh, trembling slightly with complicated emotion, and he said in a low voice:
“Thank you…”