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It’s quite unfortunate that Kouyou didn’t manage to return.
Mori is truly ashamed of the thought, and even more of the fact that his mood is dependent on her presence. Well, maybe not exactly dependent — it’s just that he would feel much better if only she had been able to get back home on time.
(Get back home. Since when does he consider the apartment in the Port Mafia building their home? Kouyou still has her own house, and although she spends most of the nights with him, he can’t be sure if she’d like to call the penthouse that.)
She promised to run straight to his office (her exact words) as soon as the plane lands in Yokohama, but from what he has been able to comprehend during their last phone call, they encountered some kind of unexpected trouble. She wasn’t keen on sharing the details about it either.
Kouyou wouldn’t even be on this mission abroad if it wasn’t for her stubbornness to accompany Chuuya and the lack of higher-ups whom he could send away instead of her. The task needed someone who could be deadly efficient, but also calm and collected enough to tone down the younger executive’s hotheadedness. The woman was a perfect candidate for that, and even if Mori didn’t want her away for his own, personal reasons, he had no choice but to assign them the mission.
It was supposed to last a week. They’d be back on 13th of February, and then they would have the whole week off. That was the agreement that they made.
Yet, it was already half past midnight, February 17th, and neither Kouyou nor Chuuya have contacted him for two days. Last time was when the woman called him to tell that they might be a little late. Since then, it was dead silence.
Mori couldn’t help but admit that he was very worried; not only because of the fact that he risked losing two powerful subordinates. It didn’t let him sleep at night, therefore he sat idly in his office, trying not to miss Kouyou so much (because it was so utterly embarrassing).
He should go to bed by now, having promised Elise that he’ll take her shopping in the morning; February 17th was her birthday, after all. Technically his, but a long time has passed since he actually celebrated his own birth, preferring to dedicate it all to his ability. For the man, it was an occasion not of any personal significance.
The boss stands up from his chair to move a bit; his limbs had gone stiff because of all the time spent in front of the desk. Walking over to the window, he strains his eyes with the false hope of noticing something at the feet of the building or even in the sky. There’s no use in doing that, because the office is way too high up in the sky for him to notice anything and it’s dark outside, to say the least.
He realizes that despite the fact that he prefers silence over any type of noise, the one right now is dreadful. He can’t go to sleep and can’t focus on work either; with no one to talk to, constantly glancing at his phone, it’s getting extremely uncomfortable. Yokohama at night isn’t particularly interesting to observe, although still just as magnificent as it is during the day. With Kouyou by his side, perhaps it would be more enjoyable.
Kouyou, Kouyou, Kouyou. Mori can’t seem to get his mind off her. His strange longing for her presence and the solace she brings with it is almost shameful. Elise calling him pathetic because of the way he couldn’t last a week without her wasn’t that much of a false, regular insult.
Just when he is about to sit back in his chair, a distant sound of steps from the corridor can be heard in the office, almost causing his heart to stop. The screen of his phone shows no new calls or messages. It can’t be anyone from the mafia, because they know better than to bother him at this hour, unless it is an emergency. On the other hand, no one is frantically barging into his office yet — and in case of emergencies, someone definitely would.
Mori walks around his desk, while the sound gets closer and closer to his door. Standing in the middle of the room, he clenches his fist, waiting.
No one knocks at the door, because Kouyou doesn’t have to. She simply enters the office, causing his face to light up.
Her hair is down and her clothes — a formal black suit, the mission attire — are in a definitely bad condition, ripped and even burned in places. He can see her bare skin in places because of the destroyed material and needless to say, the sight of blood seeping through is nowhere near pleasant.
“Forgive me for being late,” she says weakly, but her lips quirk up in a small smile. “We ran into some trouble on our way back.”
Despite his initial worry, Mori approaches her in what seems like ages and catches her in her arms, trying to be gentle. Kouyou lets out a soft huff, but wraps him in an embrace of her own, leaning into the touch. Finally, she's here.
“What happened?” he asks softly, not letting go of her. The blood from her wounds seems to be staining his white shirt and with his hand, he can feel a bigger gash on her back. It's nowhere near pleasurable, but Kouyou seems to breathe normally and isn't too bothered about it. “You're hurt.”
“It's fine,” she sighs and raises her head up so that she can stare into his eyes with visible relief. Mori notices that she looks incredibly tired too, with more prominent dark circles than usual. “They chased us all the way to the airport,” she explains quickly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And blew up our car, here, in Yokohama.”
“They did what?” his eyes widen instantly, as he unintentionally tightens his hold on her. “You could be seriously injured, I should get you to–”
“Ougai,” Kouyou says softly and places her palms on both sides of his face. There must be some small cuts on her skin, because he can feel it touch his cheeks, but nevertheless, she succeeds with directing his focus at her. “Really, I'm alright. Those are just scratches. We expected that.”
“But you’re bleeding,” Mori almost whispers, suddenly feeling vulnerable. He tries not to think about how pathetic he must look, leaning into her touch yearningly, as if he hadn’t seen her for years.
“The glass shards got me,” she rolls her eyes in embarrassment. “It’s nothing.”
Her breath feels hot on his face. With the way she looks at him, he feels a strong urge to lean forward and simply kiss her.
The things this woman does to him.
“You should go wash yourself first,” he says instead, trying to keep himself from glancing at her lips. “I’ll take care of your wounds.”
“Gladly,” she sighs in response, relieved, and places a light kiss on his cheek as an expression of gratitude. It’s not exactly the same as kissing her on the lips, but for now it’s sufficient. A pleasant sense of warmth spreads over his whole body even when she walks away towards the bathroom.
Mori stands still in the middle of the office for a good couple of seconds until he realizes that he needs to prepare an antiseptic and bandages for the scratches, as she called them. The nice sensation associated with her finally being there instantly causes him to feel relaxed, perhaps even too much.
It’s good that there’s no one to witness how much of a stupid, lovestruck imbecile he’s become; what’s worse is that he doesn’t even feel that ashamed of the thought. It’s as if he could, just for one night, become someone other than the boss of the Port Mafia, as if the responsibility to protect the city he cherishes so much was lifted off his shoulders by a pair of gentle hands.
Feeling a bit unreal, he walks over to his desk to get the necessary supplies, then puts off the light in his office and enters the adjacent apartment. The light seeps from under the bathroom door and he smiles; perhaps it is really like that. Just as he leaves the office, he stops being the boss. At least to Kouyou.
His shirt indeed has faint stains of blood on it, which proves that the woman’s wounds will require his care. What’s more worrying is the bigger mark on the sleeve of his arm which was on her back — something tells him that that one was caused by something bigger than glass shards, but he doesn’t question it for now. They have plenty of time to talk about it.
The man sits on the spacious bed, placing a tray with bandages, dressing, scissors and an antiseptic on the nightstand. The relaxing sound of the water running stops at some point, replaced by some, surprisingly hearable, quiet rustling of clothes. This type of silence — the one that allows him to hear what Kouyou is doing — is indeed comforting. Much better than sitting by himself in an empty office.
Finally, she comes out in her usual, silky red nightgown, with wet hair and an expression of relief on her face.
“It’s good to be at home already,” she comments, approaching him; his heart stops for a second at the mention of home.
“So, this is your home,” he responds, trying to seem casual while pointing to the bed, right beside him. Kouyou sits in the exact place, still visibly exhausted. He picks up the tray with his supplies and gets to work when she extends her arms towards him. There aren’t that many cuts and they look pretty shallow, but it’s still better to bandage them. At least for her own comfort.
“Yes, it is,” Kouyou glances at him with a frown, a bit puzzled at his words. He doesn’t lift his eyes up from the bandages, which causes a small smile to appear on her lips; she understands. “My home is here,” she repeats softly.
There is a moment of comfortable silence, during which he manages to clear the tiny gashes with antiseptic and place thin dressing over them. It’s not really that necessary, but at least it won’t be bothersome for her. And it’s a nice excuse to be able to actually touch her, without feeling embarrassed for his current state.
When he moves to her thighs, which are also peppered with smaller scratches, Kouyou sighs quietly.
“Is it really necessary?” she asks, but complies with all of Mori’s actions; he gets off the bed and kneels between her legs so that she looks down on him now. “They’ll heal on their own, won’t they?”
“Those, yes, they might. I’m not sure about your back, though,” the man frowns and she rolls her eyes slightly. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
“I told you, I’m fine—”
She’s quickly silenced with a kiss on the inside of her thigh. It’s light and gentle, but it surely must have come with a surprise that causes her to gasp.
“I’m the doctor here,” he speaks in a low voice, looking straight into her eyes. “So, if my patient wants to speak, I’d prefer she told me about what caused her to be back so late.”
He won. He knows it just by looking at her expression, who at first seems annoyed, but later fills up with mischief.
“Had my doctor missed me that much?” she teases, letting him clean her wounds with antiseptic again, wincing only slightly at the burning sensation. Mori glances back at her with a look that says figure it out yourself; mostly because of his own inability to admit it. Kouyou isn’t stupid either, she knows the effect she has on him, but he’s very grateful that she chooses not to say it out loud. “Somehow, they realized who we are,” she confesses with a sigh, changing the topic, while the man doesn’t stop. “We had no clue if someone told them or they were simply spying on us, but they attacked when we were about to leave our hotel.”
“Did they hurt you?” He lifts his head up, but she shakes her head.
“They weren’t very competent, to say the least.” The disdain in her tone is almost amusing. “Golden Demon took them down easily. They weren’t the actual members of the company, but some hired assassins.”
Assassins. It can’t be good that the identities of the two executives were discovered, but Mori can’t seem to focus on anything else besides her skin against his and how beautiful she looks from this perspective.
“Then, we realized that there were more of them. We couldn’t get to the airport safely, because they have blocked the way,” she continues. “So we split up, me and Chuuya. We went to two different hotels for the time being.”
“And they figured that out too?”
“No, not exactly. We suspected that they were spying on the both of us, but when we split up, they only blocked the way from Chuuya’s hotel.”
“Maybe they put a bug somewhere on his clothes?” he wonders, now partially engaged in the conversation.
“We looked for it, but it wasn’t there,” she sighs. “Nevertheless, I didn’t want him to go by himself. We waited in our hotels for a suitable occasion. That was when I called you. On the next day we decided to go.”
“And I suspect that’s where you got all of these from?” He traces a gash that seems at least a couple of days old, right above her knee, with his finger.
“Well, we decided to risk it and book our flight during the day. It would be less likely that they’d attack us in the city, and they didn’t. They followed us all the way to Yokohama, though,” she concludes with an irritated expression. “So troublesome. You know about the car.”
“Pretty much,” he sighs, standing up. “Chuuya’s fine, I presume?”
“You know that he’s not very fond of flying,” she chuckles slightly and Mori sits back next to her. “He immediately went home to sleep. He wasn’t as close to the car as I was, earlier.”
“That’s good to hear, at least,” he mutters, skipping the comment about her foolishness that he was about to say. It was enough that she was by his side in one piece. “Take off your shirt, I need to clean this one,” he says, tapping her back.
Kouyou obeys it without hesitation, now sitting half naked with her back facing him. To be fair, it’s not even in the slightest bit embarrassing — well, needless to say, they already have seen each other naked more than once. They had enough time to get used to it.
“So you say we’ll have some unexpected guests in Yokohama, huh?” he continues, taking the antiseptic into his hand again. The wound on her back is much bigger and longer, although not very deep, fortunately. He doesn’t have a problem with stitching and Kouyou is a very calm patient, but he’d prefer to avoid unnecessary pain for her.
“Nothing we can't deal with,” she brushes it off. Mori can feel that this time, the process hurts her, because she can't keep herself from wincing when the gauze touches her skin. “The only strange thing is how they managed to work so fast. With the bomb, I mean.”
Mori doesn't answer yet, but wraps a bandage around her back and chest, trying to be as gentle as possible. Kouyou doesn't even flinch when his arms wander around her body; it's comforting to know that she trusts him.
“We'll deal with that in the morning. All of it,” the man promises and places a kiss to the nape of her neck. “Now, you must be tired. Let's go to sleep.”
Much to his surprise, Kouyou puts her nightgown back on and turns around with a frown on her face.
“I think some of us are forgetting about something,” she says, a bit teasingly, settling herself right in front of him. “Don't you think?”
He tries to think for a moment, but nothing comes to mind. What could it be? Maybe he forgot to ask her for the report from the mission? No, it couldn't be, it was impossible that she'd have it now. A stupid thought flashes through his mind that maybe she wants him to finally kiss her on the lips, properly, but it doesn't fit her — if Kouyou wanted to, she would simply do it or ask.
Her expression softens as she watches him try to figure it out; then, very gently, with her bandaged hands, she puts a palm to his cheek and directs his gaze at her.
Kouyou is truly extraordinarily beautiful. Her red eyes and their usually piercing glare are now gone, and instead, she looks at him with some kind of unspoken tenderness. Despite the dark circles, her pale skin still looks soft and smooth, not giving out the exhaustion.
“Ougai,” she says quietly, softly, almost whispering. “Happy birthday.”
He realizes that was what she meant in a split of a second, during which Kouyou leans forward and kisses him on the lips. Naturally, he reacts in the blink of an eye, returning the gesture almost instantly. The woman seems satisfied with it, because she strokes his cheek a couple of times, and when they finally break away from each other, they are both breathless.
“Happy birthday,” she repeats. Mori tries to catch his breath for a couple of seconds, unsure of what he should do at the moment. On one hand, his arms urge him to embrace her, maybe even push her onto the mattress with the sudden outburst of euphoria, but on the other, he wants to stare at her as long as it’s possible. Too scared to admit what is the sensation that seems to rip his chest from the inside right now. “Don’t tell me you forgot,” the woman whispers, brushing her thumb over his cheek.
“I didn’t,” he protests, to which Kouyou chuckles lightly. “You were more important at the moment,” he claims proudly.
He notices a slight flush on her face when she tugs on his sleeve to lie down on the bed. He is still in his work clothes and his shirt is even stained with blood, but she doesn’t seem bothered at all; she simply keeps an eye on him when they settle their heads on the pillows.
“What do you wish for?” she asks quietly, despite that there isn’t anyone in the room with them. “I didn’t have time to prepare,” she frowns apologetically.
Mori gives the answer some more thought, for the first time in years.
He doesn’t usually get gifts. Most of the mafia members probably don’t even know when his birthday is, and even if they did, he celebrates the day with Elise. That makes her the center of attention for the whole day, effectively affirming that his birthday is indeed not a very important occasion. He never considered it such, too — glancing at the calendar, he simply acknowledged that he’s a year older again, then came back to his daily activities.
For Kouyou’s birthday, a month and a few days ago, he truly went out of his way, granting her a week-long trip to the mountains; only for the two of them. He never thought that he’d be able to leave the city for such a long time for personal reasons, but apparently, the sight of her face was… very convincing, to say the least.
(He blames it on being sick at that time, but he could have sworn that he would do anything she asked for then. Absolutely anything.)
“Nothing,” he says briefly, wrapping his arms around her waist. “The fact that you came back is enough.”
He can hear her sigh and feel how she places a palm against his chest, brushing the surface with her fingers delicately.
“If you say so, it’ll have to be a surprise,” she rolls her eyes while Mori kisses the crown of her head. “I didn’t have much time to prepare, you know.”
“You owe me a date for Valentines’ Day, too,” he teases and the executive lets out a gasp. “I had plans for the two of us, but you decided to stay in Paris for a while longer…”
Although it sounds like one, it’s not even a joke. A day before Kouyou and Chuuya’s supposed return, he reserved a whole restaurant all to themselves in a sudden outburst of longing and the pressure coming from wondering whether she’ll be angry if he ignored Valentines’ Day. Maybe they aren’t in an official, public relationship, but it was an occasion associated with love — and he, despite trying to deny it, is very much in love with her.
“Such a busy schedule,” she sighs dramatically, raising a hand to brush some stray hairs off his face. “I wonder how I’ll manage with all of that, truly.”
“Well, you’re lucky, it seems, because your boss will make sure to give you at least a week off,” he assures with a smile, stroking her hips with his thumbs.
She is visibly sleepy, he notices again, so he places a last, comforting kiss on her forehead.
“You must be exhausted,” he says softly. “Go to sleep now, and we'll talk more in the morning.”
“I'm just a little tired,” she tries to protest, but Mori silences her with a single look. She sighs quietly and shuffles a little to cover them with a blanket fully, then slips in between his arms and closes her eyes. “Goodnight.”
It doesn't take long for her to finally drift off to sleep, which proves his point, but he decides not to dwell on that, focusing on keeping her close instead. Her small, even huffs cause warm air to hit his chest — she managed to slip her head under his chin. Normally, they're pretty much the same height, but he allows her to feel small and protected this time.
He definitely should get up and at least change his shirt. It’s unsanitary to lie down like that in clean sheets, but the weight and warmth of Kouyou’s body beside him effectively causes his eyes to slowly start closing. The next day will probably be long and somehow tiresome, knowing Elise and her various fantasies. It would be better if he went to sleep to prepare for it.
Mori wonders whether he should take the woman with them; it sounds like a good idea, unless she’d be too tired after the long mission. The wounds on her back have to heal too, so it might be better if she stays at home this time.
Home. Their home, he remembers, letting a small smile appear on his face.
It is also true that Mori never really regarded the Port Mafia building as something like home. He spent most of the time in his office anyways, the apartment served more as a place where he could go and sleep through the night with no problem. He felt no connection to the penthouse whatsoever.
Yet with Kouyou, it’s all different. The nights he spent with her in the exact same bed made him yearn for the moment he would lie back in it again, because it would bring peace and solace connected to her presence. The long hours spent on the couch in each other’s arms, simply watching the sunset or admiring the view of Yokohama below their feet were enough for him to grow fond of the apartment. It became home.
His birthday is not an occasion to celebrate him being one year older, no, he thinks, its meaning is much more profound than that.
Mori places a gentle kiss on Kouyou’s lips, making sure not to wake her up, then lays his head back on the pillow.