Odoroki

She sighed as she flipped through the pages of the directory. Her boss prattled on, most likely assuming that the sound of pages meant that Natasha was scanning for notes and not for bars, and the young woman rubbed at her forehead as she did her best to listen. Reading the characters on the page before her was enough to make her head spin- her boss deciding that nighttime was the best time to call really hadn’t done much to help.

What little of her attention she was devoting to the conversation heard ‘you should attend this’ and ‘if you wanted, you could speak to this person’, but for the most part, her half of the phone call consisted of nods and “mhm” as she scanned for a place that she wouldn’t have to walk far to get to. Some of the places seemed appealing at best, boasting mini-bars and dance floors, and she pushed the directory aside as she decided that finding someplace quiet was out of the question.

“I have to go,” she said, and she wasn’t entirely sure if the words were actually loud enough for her boss to hear. “One hell of a day, you know? I’ll check in after the meeting tomorrow, but for now, I just need a good drink of whatever the hell they serve over here.”
Her boss sighed, and she merely shut her eyes and rested her head against her hand, massaging her temple.

“So expect a call from me at about midnight your time, okay?”

“All right, fine. I’ll talk to you then.”

She half-grunted as the line went dead, and after pressing the ‘end call’ button, she set the phone on the night stand and swept up her room key. “Tokyo, you are one hell of a town.” Her voice was half a sigh, and as she rose from the bed and walked to the mirror, she realized that a business suit and a bun was the last thing anyone in a Japanese bar would want to see her in. The thought made her frown for a moment, and then she considered the idea that maybe, just maybe, she’d remembered to pack something other than business attire, and she found herself digging through her suitcase to search.

And, beyond the layers of grey and beige, she discovered a few pairs of jeans and a couple of simple tops, and she smiled- perhaps she wasn’t the stick-up-the-ass businesswoman ex-boyfriends had told her she was after all. She decided on the clothes that looked the most casual, and then she disappeared into the bathroom, applying just a bit more makeup and then emerging, resembling what society recognized as a “normal” woman.

The outfit seemed appropriate enough for a bar- or, at least, what the directory advertised as a bar- and even though she wasn’t incredibly knowledgeable on attire in Japanese bars, she figured a black top and jeans would do the trick. She grabbed her coat, stashed her key card in her back pocket, and hoped for the best. Years of studying Japanese flickered through her mind, and she did her best to remember what she’d learned. She knew greetings, and she’d be able to hold conversation, and she knew too many random things that her instructors had practically insisted she should learn- she figured she was safe.

“Want a cab, miss?”

She turned her head, searching for the person addressing her, and her eyebrow rose ever so slightly as her gaze fell upon a kindly old woman that seemed to only know broken English. “Iie,” she said, and she smiled, shaking her head. The old woman smiled back and nodded, and Natasha continued on her way. And of course, since it was mid-October, cold air hit her full force, and she tugged her coat tighter, almost annoyed with the glamour that was Japan’s proudest city. The shops she passed as she walked were lit brightly with neon, and there were late-night vendors, and she was always shoulder-to-shoulder with someone at every crosswalk.

She knew she was being unappreciative of an opportunity that many of her co-workers would have gladly murdered for, but there was only so much crowding and neon that one person could take, and Natasha had reached her limit. But, as she reached her destination- a hole in the wall club that had signs with Kanji in neon colors and music thrumming inside- she thought that she might as well enjoy herself, and she loosened the ties of her jacket and slipped inside.

The air around her was hazy with smoke from cigarettes and flashing lights, and the music pounded restlessly while bodies swayed to the beat. Not too different from the States. The people were pressed close to each other while others were dancing together in small circles, and she waded through it all on her way to the bar. There were only a few people sitting at the counter when she approached it, and she settled gratefully onto one of the stools, giving the bartender a smile as he made his way over.

“Go chumon-wa?”

“Vodka tonic,” she said. “Please.”

He raised an eyebrow at her obvious American accent, but smiled nonetheless and nodded, setting a glass in front of her and pouring her drink. She picked it up gratefully after placing payment in the nearby tray, and she closed her eyes and enjoyed the bliss as the drink slid down her throat. She heard the bartender chuckling, and she decided that she didn’t care.
“You know Japanese, hm?”

That voice was, most definitely, not the bartender’s, and Natasha had to set her drink down and turn her head to see its owner. And the man that her eyes fell upon was no eyesore. He had black hair that grazed his shoulders, smoldering brown eyes, a deep voice like chocolate, and- cliché as it was- the figure of a Greek god. He was gorgeous, and the fact that he knew English was a definite plus. She raised an eyebrow, still taking him in.

And he chuckled, taking a casual sip of his drink, flashed a stunning smile, and addressed her once more. “Most gaikoku-jin haven’t got a clue what they’re saying. You seem to. So, are you in business?”

She smiled wryly as she realized that he thought she’d been forced to learn his native tongue. And then she nodded, picking up her drink for another taste of it. “I’m over here doing a bit of reporting. Taking a few photos, gathering sources…corporate crap.” She gave another wry smile, and the man chuckled softly, his lips remaining curved in that million-dollar grin.

“I see we’ve made quite the impression on you.” There was amusement in his voice, and she scoffed, finishing off her shot and turning toward him. “Tokyo’s not all corporate, ne? There are still some of us that know how to have fun.”

Her eyebrow raised once more, and she couldn’t help but release a short laugh. “Hm, really. I hadn’t noticed.” She hoped that he would note the sarcasm, as he seemed to be fully aware that the nightclub district of Tokyo that she’d had to walk through was having more than just a little bit of fun.

“I’m Yuu,” he said, and he extended his hand. “Shiroyama Yuu.”

Natasha smiled, and she extended her hand as well, letting it fold into his. His nonchalance surprised her, and her raised eyebrow lifted further as he tugged gently at her arm, urging her forward just slightly, and pressing a kiss to her skin. “You’re awfully friendly, Mr. Shiroyama,” she said, and she couldn’t help but blush some and bite her lip as he kissed her hand again. “And incredibly trusting, considering you don’t even know my name.”

He smiled. “Tell me your name, then,” he said, and that incredible smile of his remained intact. “That way, I won’t feel like an idiot when I ask you to dance.”

“Friendly and incredibly forward, I see,” she said, and she couldn’t help but laugh- the first time she’d genuinely laughed since her plane had landed. “How do I know you won’t take advantage of me?”

Yuu chuckled, offering another warm smile and resting his hands in his lap. “I sell guitars,” he said. “Not sex. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of an over-stressed woman.” He held out his hand once more, palm-up, his demeanor that of pure patience, and Natasha studied him for a moment, making sure he wasn’t lying through his teeth, and then she sighed.

“All right,” she said. “I believe you; you win.”

Her hand folded into his again, and she nearly grinned as he squeezed gently and stood, pulling her up with him. It had been months since a man had been this at ease with her, and it most certainly wasn’t terrible as he led her to a somewhat secluded spot and slid an arm around her waist. She bit her lip, semi-awkwardly shifting closer to him, and let her hand rest on his arm. She felt hard muscles beneath her touch, and she felt them flex and tighten as he brought her closer, his hand pressing gently against the small of her back.

She tipped her back just slightly to look up at him, and she felt a chill pass through her as his dark gaze met hers and his mouth spread into a smile. His hand shifted around hers, their fingers twining together, and she smiled back at him before deciding to trust him fully and let her head rest on his chest. Her eyes drifted closed, and she let him begin to move the two of them in small circles in the beginning of a slow dance.

Shiroyama Yuu had one hell of a relaxing aura, and Natasha was beginning to wonder if this was a regular thing for him. She wondered if he sat and drank at the bar and offered his attention to young, stressed out women so that they could go home more at ease by the end of the night. She also wondered how many relationships he’d had, how many times he’d had to learn from mistakes before learning how to be smooth and successful on dates. She could hear him humming along with the music, occasionally murmuring the words in such a way that he might have not been singing along at all. And she could hear his heartbeat- a steady pulse beneath her ear, something that told her that he was perfectly at ease, that he had no ulterior motives, and that he wasn’t going to pull away just yet.

And she noticed that, since she’d begun talking with him, the headache from earlier had, in fact, finally faded away.