Tokoy 4

She slips into the room with unconscious grace. Her hair is arranged in intricate patterns and shapes, held with glittering pins. Her white dress is just shy of scandalous with its mandarin collar and hem just brushing her mid-thigh, the slit riding up so high that one could imagine they could see a glimpse of what they assumes is a lacy thong. She takes a deep breath, and eyes are drawn to the movement of her bosom. She takes a glass of champagne from a server (a small girl with black hair, her dress much more demure but the slit almost as high), nods and smiles at her before thanking her in a sweet voice. When she turns, the tattoo on her left arm becomes visible, flushed and pink against the white of her skin. A heart with an arrow through it. Why, people murmur, she is enough to make Aphrodite jealous, a veritable Psyche with enchantment oozing from the pores of her skin.

She moves across the room, pauses to introduce herself once. Miss Inoue, she calls herself, and smiles again. She is always smiling and people note how small and even her teeth are. She moves again, pauses, sips from her glass. She glances once at the host, and he looks back at her, and whispers his excuses. They speak in low tones. The young server that Miss Inoue had taken her glass from watches as a flush creeps up the lady's neck and face, and how the hand holding her champagne glass seems to tighten ever so slightly. She sets her tray down, and disappears into an emergency stairwell. It is empty, and she takes a quick glance around her, her left hand creeping into the slit of her dress to rest on the handle of her gun. She presses her index finger through her hair and into her ear, hissing, "Will you two shut up? You're making her nervous."

"Oi, Rukia, where the hell are you? We lost sight of you."

"I'm in a stairwell, you idiots. The two of you are so loud that I'm surprised no one's heard you yet," she replies. "Inoue-san's fine," she adds, belatedly. "Now shut up."

"I said you were too loud, Ichigo."

"I wasn't the one changing the channel on the monitor so you could watch the ballga--OW, FUCK ASSHOLE, WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?"

"YOU'RE THE ONE THAT BROKE THE REMOTE!"

"Oh, and I'm loud!"

"Renji! Ichigo!" she exclaims, loudly enough that her voice bounced off the walls of the empty stairwell. Taking a quick glance around her to make sure no one had heard, she lowers her voice to add, "I'm going back outside. Just remember, if either one of us gets caught, I'm not going to be the one explaining to my brother what the hell happened." She waits for a moment and when neither of her compatriots answer, returns to the room, brushing off an invisible wrinkle from her dress, and heads to the kitchen for a fresh tray. Orihime's glass is three-quarters full when Rukia offers her the tray. "Hors d'oeurvres, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you," replies Orihime, reaching out with delicate fingers to pluck one off the tray. "Twenty-six eighteen. Two'o'clock," she adds under her breath, and smiles brightly before popping the delicacy into her mouth, chewing exactly twelve times before swallowing. It's eleven fourty-six.

Rukia continues to circulate around the room, carrying countless trays of glasses and delicious morsels of food that she occasionally sneaks samples of when she can. She hates this part, painfully aware of second hand on her watch as it moves in inexonerable circles. Around her, women are sheathed in haute couture and jewellery ("Chanel," she overhears one woman say as she gestures to the dress. "Bulgari for the earrings and Neil Lane for the bracelet"), men in Armani suits. She wonders what they would say if she told them that the insides of their Cartier watches are plastic, not metal, and cost about a thousandth of the price to make. Renji says as much aloud at one point, and Ichigo smacks him up across the head, causing another argument and making Rukia disappear into the emergency stairwell for a fourth time that night.

The waiting is intermiable. When it is one-thirty, Rukia sets her tray down and disappears.

-----

Orihime giggles, stumbles against a door. The hem of her dress rises and his hand skims her leg to push it up even further, but she catches his hand and shakes her head. The pins in her hair refract the hotel's hallway lights and her escort brandishes a card, slides it into the slot and bends his head in an attempt to catch her mouth with his. She pushes the door open and laughs when he misses his mark, pulling at his tie. The penthouse suite is much larger than she had thought it would be, and the windows a little too high and wide for her liking. His briefcase is open on the desk, documents scattered across the bed. He tells her to wait and gathers the papers together, scooping them hastily and then dumping them into a semi-neat pile into the silk-lined briefcase. She comes up behind him, winds an arm around his waist, moves a hand up his chest, catches his hand before he can lock the case. Her right hand is busy in her hair as she removes a pin carelessly. He laughs, soundlessly and stills.

"Please don't move," she says. "Or else I'm going to have to kill you, and I really don't like doing that. Please don't call for help. I'm going to have to slit your throat otherwise, and I'd get some blood on this lovely dress, and Uryuu-kun would be so disappointed if I did that."

"What do you want from me?"

"To protect the people closest to me, actually." She hesitates, and digs a hand into his pocket and comes out with small diskette. "I think we'll also be needing this," she adds cheerfully. "And I'll also be taking those documents. Sorry about that!"

He does not say anything, and she tugs him back one step, two. There is a knock on the door, and then the sound of a card sliding in the slot before it opens. Rukia enters, takes the scene in and grins briefly before gathering the documents and perusing them. Orihime tosses the diskette at Rukia, who catches it. She nods, puts it with the papers in the briefcase and shuts it. He makes a sound and tries to break Orihime's grip. Rukia reaches into the slit of her dress, pulls out a gun. Pauses and says, "Shut up. I have not gone sof--idiots, if you don't shut up, I'm going to come out there and shoot you. Oh, you really want to see what kind of army I have?" Pauses again. "Oh, you can try, but--"

"Who are you?" the man asks in a hoarse whisper.

Rukia ignores him, but Orihime answers, "We're not bad. Really, we're not."

There is a sound in the hallway. Footsteps and voices. Rukia and Orihime exchange looks. Tilting her head, Orihime taps the earpiece lightly with her shoulder. "--KIA, INOUE, COVER'S BLOWN, THEY'RE GOING TO FIRE ANY MINUTE NOW, MOVE IT!"

"Really sorry about this," said Orihime apologetically and brings the pin in her hand across his neck with a quick movement, jumping back before the blood could get on her dress. Rukia looks through the peephole, shakes her head and then gives the window a brief, calculating look. They glance at one another.

"Hey guys, now would be a good tim--"

"Look outside," someone replies in their earpieces. It is neither Ichigo nor Renji's voice. Rukia and Orihime look out and their eyes widen. A helicoptor arriving in the distance, the sound of its propellers getting louder. As it approaches, they can see two children piloting it. The pilot is a boy with hair redder than Renji's, a smirk on his small face. The girl next to him looks like a copilot. Rukia shoots at the window, the glass shattering into a million shards. Orihime brings an arm up, wincing when a few stray pieces cut into her arms.

"C'mon," says Rukia, tugging her arm. "Looks like we don't have much of a choice."

Already, they can hear the muffled swearing as the master key is denied repeatedly at the door. Taking a deep breath, Orihime nods and smiles. "I trust you, Kuchiki-san," she says softly.

"Good. At least one of us does," replies Rukia and jumps. Orihime follows.

end