in darkest red

Shion is red.

Her lipstick is red, her fingernails are red, and so her are heels. Yayoi remembers red lace with pink detailing and the reddish inside of her mouth and the material of a dress she's seen too often on and too often off crinkling underneath her fingers.

The only red she has never seen is on Shion's face. Shion is far too proud to ever allow herself to blush. Yayoi thinks that there it is a likely possibility that Shion doesn't know the meaning of embarrassment and doesn't know any colour other than glowing red end of her cigarette before it crumbles into dark ash.

"What're you looking at?" Shion glances at her from out of the corner of her eye.

Yayoi blinks, holding her ground before returning her eyes to the file of documents on her lap. "Nothing," she says. It frustrates her that Shion still asks when she already knows the answer.

She's at a loss because it is the type of frustration that she wants to tolerate.

The first time she speaks to Shion, her earrings are red.

"Inspector Ginoza asked me to pass these reports to you." Yayoi bows in turn before moving to walk out of the lab. The air in the room smells of perfume and cigarette smoke. It's a mixture of something she hasn't come into contact with for a long time.

"Leaving so soon? Isn't a proper introduction in order here?" the woman asks. "You know, it was becoming such a snore fest with all these men around. I'm glad to see another woman walking about now."

Yayoi hears the squeak of a swivel chair as she looks over her shoulder. She wonders what is the motive behind her acting so friendly. Hardly anyone in the MWPSB is. "Yayoi Kunizuka. Enforcer for Department 1. I look forward to working with you. Good day."

"Such a busy new bee, aren't we? Well, whenever you can spare the time, be sure to visit me. I get awfully lonely in this dingy place," the woman says with a laugh that somewhat irritates Yayoi. She doesn't think she will ever be able to laugh like that.

"Shion Karanomori. But please, call me Shion."

"Kunizuka, speaking."

"Hi Yayoi-chan!" Shion's voice blaring out from the wrist communicator throws her off guard. "Masaoka gifted me with some spare alcohol and I need a drinking buddy. What do you say?"

"I'm busy," Yayoi replies.

"Your next shift doesn't started for another ten hours," comes Shion's reply, sing-song and confident in its persuasiveness. "First thing you need to know: you can't fool me. I have access to everything."

Yayoi remains easily unimpressed.

"Please, Yayoi-chan?"

She wonders if this is all just a challenge. She wonders if Shion is just trying to break in and rob her of things she's already been emptied of. She wonders why her thoughts have been so depressing lately. Must be her hue.

"Only if you stop calling me that," she answers. Then, she hangs up.

"So, what dark, tragic past caused you to wind up in this shitty place?" Shion asks as she swirls the wine in her cup. "A lost lover? A lost dream? Something mushy and emotional like that?"

"No." Yayoi takes a tiny sip. It's good liquor. It burns the back of her throat and tastes nothing like the cheap alcohol the clubs used to serve, but still reminds her of them.

"Didn't think so." The woman smiles, and Yayoi doesn't want to admit it, but she wants to know what that smile is trying to say.

She doesn't think she can claim that she's lost her love or lost her music. She remembers being young and baring her midriff and misplacing her favourite guitar pick. She remembers Rina holding her hand and saying, "Just because something is lost doesn't mean you can't find it back." And Yayoi had been too naïve and hopeful then because she'd listened to that.

Some part of her still is, because some part of her forgives Rina for everything. And, predictably, she never did find that pick again.

She feels another weight on her hand, and looks up from her half-finished glass of wine. Shion's fingers are warm and red and feather-light over her balled up hand.

"Hey. You still there?" she asks.

Yayoi doesn't reply.

"Did you see what happened in the Northern district this morning?"

"I was there. Homocide. Kougami is trying to figure out how the perpetrator's Crime Coefficient shot up so high. Shouldn't that be the job of a data analyser?" Yayoi commits full concentration to the screen and the keyboard in front of her. Shion leans against her desk and gracefully avoids the verbal jab.

"No, no, like I would care about something as trivial as that. I was talking about the big sale!" Shion corrects her. Yayoi wants to ask her what's wrong with her – but figures that maybe, she should figure out her own issues first before she has the right to ask others about theirs.

"Ginoza-kun is so uptight about things like these. If you go with me, maybe we'll be able to get him to take us out," Shion reveals her master plan. Yayoi tilts her head and tries to get rid of the crick in her neck.

"You see, the guy doesn't know how to handle women – if we gang up on him, he'll be dead."

Yayoi doesn't care much for harassing Ginoza. Ginoza, who is strict and cautious and when in one of his worse moods, looks at her like she is perpetually committing a crime.

"Come on, pretty please?"

It is not those words that cause Yayoi to stiffen. It is Shion's hand butterflying around her thumb and wrist, stroking her skin, running over knuckles, squeezing fingers and then letting go without speaking. Yayoi's eyes flicker before she can stop herself.

Shion grunts when she gets no other reaction, but even that is a sound that comes out calculated and poised to make Yayoi's hands clench.

Yayoi seats herself on the sofa in Shion's lab. It's a vulnerable position to be in.

"Slow week. How boring. Nothing's happened at all. All is right in the world for once. Sibyl is finally doing its job, huh?" Shion settles down next to her, the edge of her skirt sliding up and creasing.

There's that smile again. A challenge, an 'excuse me but I'm coming in whether you like it or not', and as much as it makes Yayoi close up, it makes her want to see how that smile would look like if it got turned upside down.

Shion's collarbones are distinct, as if pressing against the confines of her smooth skin, and her palm is open and empty. Yayoi thinks about illicit clubs and too many people and bright strobe lights and crashing loud music and something she will never let herself forget.

She pauses and doesn't speak, waits for Shion to relax her posture and uncross her legs, before pressing a kiss against those red lips. Yayoi leans smoothly into her pale hands and unyielding hips and desperately doesn't think about anything else. It frustrates her that Shion doesn't look surprised, but instead pleased and triumphant, smile still there, and she uses that as a reason to continue.

Shion's face is red, but not in the shade of red Yayoi wants to see.

"You know, we've been spending a lot of time together," she lulls out. "Not that I'm complaining or anything," she adds, and then smiles, and Yayoi still doesn't know what that is supposed to mean.

"Only for the free drinks," she replies, and watches as Shion rises up into a hearty laugh, her cheeks flushing even more. Even at the brink, she still looks like she a complete hold on everything around her. She empties her glass and reaches over the table to refill it.

Yayoi clutches onto the back of her neck and tugs her down without warning, but Shion braces her arms against her shoulders, ready for everything. Yayoi tries to give a reason to all of this, but that is just one more thing she's already lost.

"Play me a song one day!" Shion says out of the blue.

Yayoi feels the friction between her boot heel and the floor. "What are you talking about?" she asks, and hopes that her premonition is wrong.

"You used to be in a band," the woman announces, almost gleefully. "A guitar player, huh? Never expected that, seeing how uptight you are now."

The red of her dress seems to change colour, darkening under the dim lighting of the room. Did Shion orchestrate everything up till now just to say these words to her? She's an egotistical person who adores herself most of all. Of course, maybe what she wanted all along was for someone to write her a song, or name something after her. Yayoi doesn't owe her that.

Yet, in the most unfair of ways, a part of Yayoi had always expected Shion to ask her about this ever since they first kissed. A part of her had been ready to decline and watch her face fall. How does it feel, being the one in control for once? Yayoi still doesn't know.

"No." She feels her hair whip behind her as she pivots towards the door. With all her self-control, she walks and doesn't storm, and thinks about how Rina must've felt when she walked out on her. Nothing like this, probably. Nothing at all.

"I'm curious. Tell me all about your fun – hey, hey! Where are you going?"

"Hey."

"Hey."

Kagari decides to prod his finger into her side. Once. Twice. Then, he gives up.

After being paired off with him for far too many investigations, Yayoi has learned that the best way to handle him is to ignore him and leave him to his own childish devices. She doesn't even budge, and sighs inwardly at the overhanging reality that she's doomed to spend the rest of her life working with this boy.

"Shion wants to talk to you," Kagari grumbles when he realises that she won't acknowledge him. He thrusts his hands into his pockets and slumps his shoulders. "Don't know why she asked me to tell you that when she could've done it herself. You two had a fight, or what?"

Yayoi's hand clutches the corner of the keyboard. It is the only answer she deigns to give him. He doesn't even notice. "Real mature of you, Kunizuka," Kagari laughs a little. The thought of him lecturing her is unnerving on too many levels.

He stands next to her for a little while longer. Yayoi realises that as much as she knows how to handle him, Kagari must have some vague idea of her too. "… I'd listen to her if I was you," the boy says casually before wandering off.

Yayoi weighs how little Kagari's advice means to her.

Yet, she still pushes her chair away from the desk.

"Want one?" Shion flicks an opened box of cigarettes at her.

Yayoi declines by ignoring it.

Shion lowers her hand. She starts to reach for a cigarette before stopping herself halfway. Sighing loudly, she slips the box into her coat pocket, folds her arms, and raises her eyes.

They stare each other down, neither giving nor taking. They exchange nothing, and the action of looking into someone else's eyes has never been so simple and has never been so empty of meaning or expectations. She owes nothing to Shion. Her emotions are not a currency for a transaction, and Shion is not taking any fees. The feeling calms Yayoi immensely.

After a few seconds, Shion begins to speak. Her smile is absent for once.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"She was always there on Monday and Thursday nights," Yayoi recalls.

Then, she thinks about Rina's favourite songs and vivid voice. Rina's pale pink fingernails and bright blue hair. Rina's dark back stepping further and further away from her, the black emptiness of that underground tunnel and the haunting blue of the Dominator in her unmoving hands, too many things to take in at once. Yayoi feels something wet on her cheeks and grits her teeth and locks her jaw, tightening and tightening. She wonders if Shion still wants to break in now that she can see that everything of value has already been smashed and stolen by someone else. To see Shion Karanomori disappointed for once in her life would be such a satisfying thing. Yayoi thinks about this through the tears, and feels them grow hot when she realises that Shion actually means something to her now.

"It's alright."

Shion's arms are over her shoulders the next moment. Soft and open and imploring, even as they curve around her and pull her closer. She doesn't say anything, but Yayoi can only smell cigarettes and a certain brand of perfume and can only see the whiteness of her labcoat.

Shion smiles at her.

Yayoi is frustrated that she has come to understand what it means.

"What're you looking at?"

Shion doesn't bother to look over to her this time. The crests of her shoulders peak out from underneath the dark red blanket. After a moment, she turns and curls and buries her face into the pillow, mumbling about having one cup too much to drink and how she can't be bothered to wash off her makeup tonight so don't tell her how ugly her face will be tomorrow morning because she already knows, okay?

Yayoi stares down at the smear of lipstick between her shoulder and arm.

"Nothing," she repeats, and places her head on the pillow too.