Work Text:
Polished shoes clicked mutedly against marble flooring, scuff-free, avoiding stray specks of dirt or water with practised ease. Engravings sat proudly within the leather at the back of the heel, displaying a family crest that screamed wealth beyond belief. Premium maroon linen grazed the ankles just above the crest, framing long, sturdy legs that hinted at toned muscle and trained athleticism. A thick, gold studded leather belt wrapped around the waist of its owner, the buckle too bearing a crest, working to secure the black dress shirt tucked beneath it. The figure shifted, tossing a matching maroon blazer to hang across their shoulders, accenting the multiple open buttons of the shirt that revealed the flawless skin of their chest; the glint of golden chains.
Their slow gait came to a stop before the bodyguard of the venue - an Omnic that stood at almost twice their height, easily a few tonnes of pure metal and intimidating strength (and a rather charming moustache). Yet, the smaller form before him only glanced up with indifference, cockiness unable to be hidden, even by the mask that obscured their features.
A black fox mask, gold plates highlighting sections of the animal’s features; a statement of power in the gentle light of the foyer’s chandeliers. The mask covered the upper half of their face, resting across the bridge of their nose, and the lower half was still exposed.
But their eyes softened upon recognising the bodyguard, posture relaxing slightly.
The Omnic held out an open palm, and the shorter sighed, digging out a pristine black card from their pocket. They placed it in the Omnic’s hand, who inspected it, referring to a list of names before nodding. He handed the card back and briefly regarded the person before him.
Undeniably, it was Kiriko Kamori.
Simply called Kamori, or Miss Kamori by most, she was the heir to her family’s fortune. They dominated business society, leaving them with incomprehensible wealth and influence, and Kiriko was their sole child. She took her position in stride, yet continued to remain her genuine self, even with such powerful status. Only her family and closest confidants knew her forename.
He stepped aside, a metallic sound coming from the Omnic like a huff of laughter. He held an arm out, gesturing for the woman to pass, and received a playful pat on the arm as she passed by. Her eyes squinted with amusement, the soft brown irises twinkling like the crystal chandeliers above. The exchange was entirely silent, but it conveyed a sense of familiarity. The two saw each other often at these types of events, after all.
This event, however, was not solely for business. A masquerade ball - allowing the rich and famous to celebrate life and bask in the presence of others without their identities being the most important part of an interaction. They could be their true selves without worrying about impressions, reputations, or appearances.
Kiriko made her way into the ballroom, where the event was taking place. It was already in full swing; at least a hundred people either sitting near the bar, mingling in groups or slow dancing to the gentle tune that the live musicians were playing. All wearing unique masks and outfits that completely obscured their identities. Each outfit was clearly worth unimaginable amounts of money, adorned with precious metals, crystals, and other expensive accessories. Some came with partners, or friends, but much like Kiriko, plenty came alone.
And of course, Kiriko had shown up fashionably late (as per usual), attracting some glances from those nearest to the entrance. She tilted her head in greeting, a slight smile invisible beneath the mask that would curl into a smirk upon noticing how those glances lingered. Standing up a little straighter, confidence radiated from her being as she made her way through the ballroom.
Chandeliers adorned with intricate crystals and glass were hung periodically across the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft, pink light. The atmosphere was rather calm, as always. These events were never energetic, or “rowdy”, as the gentry would say. Circular tables filled roughly half of the venue, gently lit by candles, and waiters bustled between them carrying seemingly infinite trays of champagne and other drinks with names Kiriko couldn’t pronounce. Stretching across the entire opposite wall was the bar, hundreds of different bottles neatly organised along neon-lit shelves behind bartenders that weaved between one another as they put on performances of drink mixing for their customers. The staff too wore unique masks, immersing themselves in both business and the flirtatious atmosphere that surrounded them.
Brief greetings and halfhearted conversations ensued with strangers, sly eyes scanning her form in attempts to figure out who she was, asking questions that dipped just past the line between casual and personal. Kiriko shifted on her feet, not at all focused on the fourth - fifth, now? She’d already lost count - man that approached her. Instead, her eyes surveyed the crowd as if searching for a specific figure, yet her eyes were unfocused. The constant noise from all directions, and the pressure of the imposing figures around her that swam like bloodthirsty sharks were starting to become overwhelming. Confidence came naturally to Kiriko, but it was difficult to keep up at all times. Especially in crowded rooms of strangers.
Well, mostly strangers. One heart among this crowd was familiar.
With a small nod and a mumbled word of parting, Kiriko pushed past the man that was mid-ramble about his business empire. He stuttered, blanching and watching her walk away with confusion, grumbling something about the youth.
No matter how much she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t looking for someone, she was. Kiriko had caught wind of a certain woman that would be attending the event - against the rules, she knows - and she just had to go. She wasn’t even invited herself, but a little under-the-table cash to the organiser, Ashe, didn’t hurt anyone. And so, Kiriko’s name had suddenly found its way onto the list of guests, and her parents were none the wiser.
Good. If they found out, she’d metaphorically (and probably literally) be slaughtered.
This was an event held for her family’s rivals.
Kiriko sighed, running a hand through her hair. Even with the mask, she stressed that someone would recognise her - that someone she didn’t want to recognise her, would. She smoothed out the creases in her shirt and glanced towards the bar, eyes landing on a bartender that was leaning against the counter, expression bored.
A perfect distraction for her nerves. The bar had a view of the entire room, a little elevated upon a platform, making it easier for Kiriko to continue her search. A drink or two wouldn’t hurt either, and it would make her less jittery.
The bartender’s gaze rose from the glass in their hands to Kiriko as she took the stool in front of them. Kiriko nodded in greeting, unbuttoning the cuffs of her shirt and rolling them up to her elbows. The bartender followed the action, eyebrows raising slightly upon seeing the intricate teal patterns tattooed into the heir’s skin- one of the most recognisable markings in society. A dangerous play from someone who was not supposed to be here. But they stayed silent, pushing themselves off of the counter and turning to face the new patron fully, slipping the glass back onto a shelf beneath the counter. Kiriko studied them, taking note of the sun-shaped mask that gleamed in the pink lighting, and the black formal uniform that complimented their complexion. Thin black lines that suggested augmentations ran seamlessly across their skin. The lines seemed to glow faintly, but Kiriko simply thought it a trick of the light.
“What can I get for you?” The bartender had a quiet, but strong voice, inflected by a Peruvian accent. It was smooth; satisfying to listen to. The dark eyes that observed Kiriko seemed indifferent, but there was a slight glimmer of righteousness within them. Curiosity, too.
Kiriko hummed, squinting at the vast array of bottles and brands that lined the wall, names she’d never heard and could never even fathom to pronounce. A man sat on the stool beside her slumped on the counter, a half empty glass tipping dangerously in one hand. The liquid was a light pink, with small petals floating on the surface. Whatever it was, it was clearly doing the job.
She gestured towards him, an easy smile on her lips. “Whatever he’s having.”
The bartender’s lips twitched, an almost unnoticeable upwards tilt at the corners that was quickly schooled back into a blank expression. They immediately got to work, grabbing several bottles and a mixer. Their movements were fluid, evidently practised and honed to perfection. “A Cosmopolitan, with cherry blossom petals. Orange?”
“Please.”
Kiriko folded her arms on the counter, fiddling with an old leather bracelet on her left wrist. Despite the grandeur of the place, the nicks and stains on the bar’s counter were impossible to remove, and the heir traced them, absentmindedly wondering if they had any interesting stories behind them. Even the most high-end of places had its dirty secrets. Hell, so did every single person present at the ball; secrets pushed under the rug of flirtatious lighting, alcohol and overly-friendly façades.
A glass slid into Kiriko’s line of sight, clinking against the polished wooden surface of the bar counter and breaking her out of her trance. She looked up, muttering a thanks before curling a hand around the smooth, cold glass. She raised the glass, tilting it minutely in their direction, taking a sip. They nodded, turning to continue cleaning glasses, pausing only to reach over and take the glass from the drunken man’s hand before it was spilt.
Swirling the glass in her hand, Kiriko watched the petals float around in the liquid for a moment, before looking out at the rest of the ballroom. Pairs danced with grace across the marble floor, a sea of masks and twirling bodies. The live band continued to play soft jazz tunes, pace slow enough to remain intimate but just upbeat to allow some thrill. Despite no mask being the same, none were distinctive to Kiriko’s biassed eyes, shapes, dark colours and gold threading blurring together.
The fox continued to search for its prey; the rabbit’s scent that had been teasing it for years. Rendezvous in the shadows, fleeting glances and touches just outside the glare of the spotlight. Forbidden communication, years worth of tension and a permanent feeling that everything was just out of reach. The fox can only chase its prey for so long before it becomes restless, desperate. The hunt must conclude tonight.
Turning back to the bar, Kiriko observed the bartender once again. They were young, likely somewhere around her own age, give or take a few years. They stood strong, posture solid and sure, but they still somehow managed to hide away from the command of the room. Leaning on a palm, she continued to swirl her drink. “What’s your name?”
They looked up, pausing mid-shake of a mixer and turning their head to face Kiriko again. A slurred complaint left the patron they were serving, but they paid it no mind. Despite the fact that Kiriko couldn’t see their full expression, she mused at the thought of a sarcastic raised eyebrow behind the sun mask. “Isn’t that against, like.. the whole point of this party?”
Kiriko grinned, shrugging. “It’s not a party. It’s a ball.”
The bartender rolled their eyes, voice flat. “Oh, yeah. Some rich guys passed out at a bar. How grand.”
They finished mixing the drink and poured it into a tall glass, sliding it across the bar to the patron. “And anyway. This whole thing’s about being anonymous. Which,” They gave Kiriko a pointed look, “You suck at.”
Kiriko frowned. “Huh?” She looked down at herself, eyebrows furrowed. She thought she was pulling off the hot, mysterious look pretty well.
The other just stared at her, unimpressed. They seemed uncomfortable, talking so much with a stranger, but the annoyance of the woman’s incompetency was far stronger. “You have the most recognisable tattoos ever. Especially here. I don’t keep up with business politics, but are you seriously flaunting those here of all places?”
The heir gaped, quickly rolling her sleeves back down, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Shit, you’re right.” She groaned, slipping her hands under the mask to rub her eyes. “I’m just.. trying to look for someone. I never planned for this undercover crap.”
If the bartender could have looked any more disappointed, Kiriko would have exploded under the pressure.
“So, you thought.. rather than contact this person normally.. you’d sneak into a masquerade ball? And try to find someone? Wearing a mask?”
“It’s complicated, okay?”
They scoffed, turning away to hide their amused expression. “Right.”
Kiriko sighed, tilting her head back and downing the rest of her drink. The bartender smirked, already starting to make another. She watched the dancers through the mirrored wall that lined the back of the bar, resting her cheek on her palm. She hummed noncommittally when the second glass was placed in front of her, staring distractedly at the wall. After a few minutes, her eyes slowly shifted back to the bartender.
“Hey..” Kiriko looked back at the mirror, watching the crowd again. “I never got your-”
She froze.
The bartender made a noise of confusion, looking at Kiriko expectantly, and seeing how her eyes widened to form an expression of shock. They glanced over their shoulder, confusion only growing. “What-”
“Put it on my tab.” These were the only words they received before Kiriko shot up from her seat, heading straight for the crowd of twisting bodies.
The bartender just sighed, tossing the cleaning rag over their shoulder and walking straight into the makeshift break room in the storage area behind the bar.
Meanwhile, Kiriko’s heart was pounding. In the mirror, she’d caught the slightest glimpse of a white rabbit mask before it disappeared in the crowd. Her heart felt as though it was being gripped by a vice, steadily tightening. This was what she had been waiting for all night. For months. The hunt was about to reach its climax.
Kiriko shouldered her way through the crowd, not caring about who she was shoving out of the way - her vision had tunnelled. She didn’t listen when someone tried to grab her arm, or when someone spat an aggressive comment towards her after she’d knocked their drink over. She didn’t care that she wasn’t being discreet. She had to find her. She needed to find her.
It had been too long. Too many restless nights where the heir would toss and turn, throwing her sheets to the side and shifting uncomfortably in her clothes; staring at the ceiling in frustration. Too many days spent staring at a phone, knowing she would receive no messages, but hoping nonetheless. Years spent listening to her parents casually talk about her with venom on their tongues, while she sat in the other room, the glare of the sun burning her eyes. Yes, the sun. That was it. Foxes never cried.
Kiriko shook her head, blinking rapidly to bring herself back to the present moment. She lowered her head, still pushing past people, and carefully reached under her mask with one hand to wipe any wetness away from her eyes. Kiriko Kamori was the heir to the Kamori empire. Even if her identity was hidden behind the mask of the beast that had represented her for so long, she could not show weakness. She would not allow herself to crumble until her rabbit was by her side; until the eternal hunt had ended.
Securing her mask back into place, she made her way to the edge of the ballroom. The white rabbit mask was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she imagined her - was she getting that desperate? No, surely not, Kiriko knew for a fact that the rabbit would be here. But where? She couldn’t have just disappeared out of-
The heir’s mental ramblings screeched to a halt. A glint of light in the corner of the eye caused her to pause and squint at the offending object. A bracelet.
She crouched, carefully picking the piece of jewellery up. It wasn’t a solid gold chain or a dainty bangle with embedded diamonds like she would have expected. No, this was handmade. It seemed almost childish, definitely out of place in a venue like this. But this bracelet was oh so painfully familiar.
Two thin brown leather cords tied into a small loop, secured by a gold clasp, and a small hand-carved charm. Kiriko ran a thumb over the charm, some corners smoothed down through wear and tear, slight discoloration in areas. But, undeniably, it was a fox.
A sharp huff of disbelieving laughter forced its way past Kiriko’s lips. The universe really did have some humour, it seemed, leaving some kind of twisted egg-hunt for her to follow before she could find her lover.
_______________
Many years prior, one could find two young girls, roughly ten years of age, giggling and running through overgrown grass in a park. It was the peak of summer, but the heat didn’t bother them; small hands grasping half-melted ice pops, knees grazed from tumbles; hair messy from their intense game of tag. One of the girls was slightly taller, only by an inch or two, and she was the one chasing the other. Grins spread across both their faces, threatening to split them in two at how wide they were. The shorter girl squealed and shrieked in playful terror as she continued to evade her friend.
She giggled, hiding behind a bench, using it as an obstacle to make space between her and the taller girl. But, to her surprise, the taller grinned sharply and climbed over the bench, wrapping her arms around her victim before she could make a run for it. “Gotcha!”
The other writhed in her grasp, trying to break free despite the huge smile on her face. “Kiriko, get off’a me!”
Kiriko only laughed, tightening her embrace. “Nah. You’re stuck with me forever, Hana.”
Their joy was short lived as an older woman approached, taking Hana by the arm and berating her on something along the lines of ‘associating with that riff-raff’, leaving Kiriko smiling sadly at the grass beneath her feet. She didn’t understand - she only got to see Hana once every few weeks, maybe even less, and she’d always tell Kiriko that she’d had to sneak away from her parents. Why?
_______________
At sixteen, the two girls were closer than ever before.
They were beginning to understand why it was so difficult to spend time together - their families were long term rivals. The Kamoris and the Songs; the two largest business empires in the continent. Their families hated one another, to the point where Kiriko had to sneak out of her house, get a train across the city and climb into Hana’s bedroom just so they could spend time together.
Kiriko gripped the window ledge, gritting her teeth and hauling herself up and over it. Hana had left the window open for her, as usual. Landing silently on the carpet, Kiriko dusted off her clothes before turning to face her.. friend. Hana was laid back on her bed, pillows propping her up in a comfortable reading position. A random book from the stack beside her bed rested in her palms, fingers absentmindedly curling and folding the corners of the pages.
When Kiriko turned, she found Hana already looking at her, a soft half-smile on her lips. Her hair was down that night, effortlessly framing her face. Comfortable clothing; grey sweatpants and a knitted, oversized jumper that Kiriko vaguely remembered being stolen from her own closet. If you’d asked Kiriko then, she’d have told you that the movement in Hana’s eyes was simply from the sunlight reflecting off of them. Yet if you asked her now, Hana Song had totally looked her up and down. Her gaze was teasing, eyes slightly lidded, but sixteen-year-old Kamori was oblivious to Hana’s hints.
Hana slipped a bookmark into her page and set the book aside. “What took you so long?”
Kiriko rubbed the back of her neck. “Your mother almost saw me on the way in. I sat in that bush by the gate for about fifteen minutes.”
The shorter rolled her eyes playfully, a quiet huff of laughter escaping her lips. She sat up, crossing her legs, and motioned for Kiriko to sit on the bed. The taller smiled bashfully, stepping into the light and towards her friend. Hana was watching her, and her expression changed upon seeing Kiriko’s hair - along with a blush that still, to this day, Kiriko was not aware of.
Once she’d made herself comfortable on the bed, Hana crawled over to her, eyes locked on Kiriko’s face. A hand reached out, gently taking a few strands of her hair between her fingers and inspecting it. “You dyed it.”
It took Kiriko a solid few seconds to respond, brain struggling to catch up from the moment it processed Hana’s proximity. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, causing Hana to giggle. She looked like a fish.
“Oh, yeah!” She laughed nervously, inwardly proud that she didn’t stutter through two words. Hana hummed, smiling to herself, hand now tangled in the hair at the base of Kiriko’s neck.
“It suits you.”
The taller’s face burned bright red, and Hana burst out into laughter, wrapping her arms around Kiriko’s body and pressing her face into her shoulder. It took a while for Hana’s laughter to die down, shoulders still shaking minutely when she finally looked back up at Kiriko.
Hana’s breath caught in her throat, completely and utterly taken aback by the love-drunk look on her friend’s face. Her eyes were lidded, watching Hana with the utmost adoration, a tiny smile on her lips. Hana’s laughter was one of Kiriko’s favourite sounds. At some point in her fit of laughter, Kiriko’s arms had wrapped around Hana’s waist, but she barely noticed this as all attention was stolen by the intensity of the woman before her.
They’d subconsciously moved closer, now entirely in one another’s personal space. Hana’s lips parted, tightening her grip on the other ever so slightly. They were close, so close, enough so that they could feel each other’s shallow breath on their skin.
A sharp knock on Hana’s bedroom door caused her to flinch, creating space between the pair. They stared at one another with wide eyes - hearts clenched from the realisation of what almost happened, and the danger of their current situation.
Hana tugged on Kiriko’s sleeve, urging her towards the floor. “Under the bed. Now!” She whispered, chewing on her lower lip as she glanced back to the door.
“Hana? Who are you talking to?” The sound of her mother’s muffled voice entered through the crack under the door, the handle creaking as her mother turned it.
Kiriko slid herself under the bed, folding her arms across her chest and huffing out a silent sigh. She rolled her eyes in amusement at her friend’s excuse.
“I’m on a call with Dae-hyun!”
“On those games again?”
“You know it!”
Hana’s mother sighed, releasing the door handle. The shadow of her feet slowly receded from the door, and so did her voice as she called out on her way down the stairs. “Tell him to come to dinner at some point! It’s been weeks.”
A few beats of silence passed, before Hana gently nudged Kiriko’s shoulder. She glanced over, chuckling at her friend’s upside down face as she hung over the edge of the bed.
“Close one.”
It would be another few hours until they finally shared their first kiss, in the gentle glow of the fairy lights strung across Hana’s walls, Kiriko carefully tugging the duvet over Hana’s shoulders as they parted, both grinning from ear to ear.
Kiriko would leave her bracelet on the bedside table that night.
_______________
But, they’d never properly talk about what they were.
_______________
As the next few years passed, Hana and Kiriko grew more.. distant. Unintentionally, as they were gradually fully ensnared by the iron vice otherwise known as their families' empires. Hana became Song, and Kiriko became Kamori. They had to keep up a public image of distaste for one another.
Hana hated the story of Romeo and Juliet, but sometimes their situation felt a little too similar.
Their visits became far and few between, having to go to even further lengths just to be able to see each other for a few hours at a time. The more involved with business they became, the more difficult it was to get away with impromptu meetups; unlike when they were younger and their faces were unknown to the media.
_______________
When was the last time they saw each other as their true, genuine selves?
_______________
When, how, did it get to the point where their love became a hunt?
_______________
Kiriko squeezed the bracelet in a clenched fist. So, after all this time, she kept it? A mixture of warmth and simultaneous grief filled her chest. She often found herself wondering how peaceful their life could have been if they weren’t heirs to empires. They never were girlfriends, and that fact plagued Kiriko’s mind day in, day out.
She frowned, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes once again. That would simply not do. Making her way towards the bathroom, she shouldered past more people, eyes fixed straight ahead, bracelet digging into her palm.
Once inside, Kiriko leaned back against the door, letting her head tilt back until it collided with the wood with a quiet thud. She shut her eyes, focusing on steadying her breathing, twisting the old leather cords of the bracelet between her fingers in an attempt to ground herself. The stress of being in such a difficult romantic situation tended to catch up with her often, at the most inconvenient of times. At the same time, the knowledge that the woman she’d been in love with for years was in her vicinity was thrilling. Extremely nerve-wracking, too.
When her heart rate had steadied, Kiriko stepped away from the door and towards the sinks. She lifted her mask to rest on her forehead, leaned down and splashed ice-cold water on her face. She sighed in relief, pressing her knuckles into her closed eyes and leaning all of her weight on the sink counter.
She stood there, leaning on the counter with her eyes closed for a decent amount of time, trying to collect her thoughts and plan how she would even find Hana, let alone speak to her.
Luckily enough for Kiriko, it’s a common occurrence that prey will walk right into the hunter’s line of sight.
A clang of metal caused Kiriko to quickly pull her mask down and look up, watching a cubicle door open through the mirror.
Oh, universe, aren’t you funny?
Even with the mask, Kiriko recognised her instantly. She’d know those eyes anywhere. Pure white rabbit mask, intricate silver detailing, hiding features that Kiriko had been yearning to see for aeons. She wore a black pantsuit, decorated with similarly silver jewellery - the most noticeable being a brooch of her family’s crest on the right side of her chest. Her hair was tied up in what looked like a professionally done bun, but a few strands were sticking out, that somehow made the look even more alluring. Kiriko stared, mouth agape, unable to move. She was beautiful. It was her, without a doubt - Kiriko had the small scar just below Hana’s lip, and the one curling over her shoulder, ingrained into her memory.
Hana made eye contact with her through the mirror, but the lack of recognition was still evident. She shifted on her feet awkwardly, a friendly smile on her lips.
Oh, right. Kiriko was hogging the only sink.
She turned without a word, stepping aside to make room for Hana, but she didn’t leave the room. She couldn’t take her eyes off of her. After all this time, being in the same room as the woman she’d never stopped loving was just short of overwhelming. It didn’t help that on every rare occasion they’d get to meet, Hana got more and more gorgeous each time.
Kiriko could barely raise her voice above a whisper.
“Hana?”
The woman in question froze, and Kiriko could see in the reflection how her eyes widened in panic for a split second, then even further in shock. She whipped around, staring at Kiriko as if she was properly seeing her for the first time, jaw slack in astonishment.
It was dead silent for a few moments, but the atmosphere in the small room became charged with an intensity so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
Hana took a cautious step closer, eyes flicking across Kiriko’s face (what was visible of it) and her body, trying to decipher if what she was seeing was real; if the woman before her was truly, finally, there.
“Kamo-”
Kiriko laughed, a twinge of pain in its breathlessness. “Don’t. Not here, not now.” She put a hand to her chest, feeling her racing heart. She exhaled. “It’s Kiriko.”
Hana’s eyebrows furrowed, the muscles twitching slightly as a hint of tears gathered in her eyes. Nevertheless, her frown quickly reversed into a small, disbelieving smile.
“Kiriko.”
The hunt was over.
Kiriko stepped towards her, hands held out in an unsure manner, almost gingerly, like Hana might disappear at any moment. Hana mirrored her, reaching out to take Kiriko’s hands into her own, ever so gently.
No words were exchanged for a while, the two were too caught up in simple drinking in the presence of one another. Hana glanced down, feeling the charm of the bracelet still in Kiriko’s hand press into her own palm. She gently turned Kiriko’s hand over, thumb brushing back and forth over the taller’s palm. Her eyebrows rose slightly in silent surprise, glancing at her own wrist to confirm that she had in fact dropped the bracelet.
“You dropped something.”
Hana rolled her eyes, and Kiriko’s heart almost burst at how familiar the expression was; the love she had for this woman was overflowing.
“You’re such a dork.” She took the bracelet and slipped it back onto her wrist. “Where have you been?”
“Where have I been? I’ve been trying to find yo-”
Hana quickly silenced her, fingers slipping through Kiriko’s belt loops and pulling her closer, softly pressing her lips against the taller’s.
It took Kiriko’s brain a few seconds to process what was happening, but once it did, she kissed back, pouring all the love she could into it to make up for lost time. Her hands slipped around Hana’s waist, pressing their bodies together. The feeling was indescribable; it had been bordering almost a full year since the two had been able to see one another, let alone have any physical contact.
Their lips parted after a short while, and Hana sighed happily, resting her forehead against Kiriko’s. It was a little awkward, with the masks still on, but they made it work. Kiriko lifted a hand to cup Hana’s jaw, who leaned into the touch, not breaking eye contact.
“We can’t keep doing this.” Kiriko’s voice was barely audible.
Hana’s smile faltered, a crease forming between her brows.
“I know,” She looked away. “But, please.. let’s not think about that right now.”
Kiriko pressed her lips together. “Promise we’ll talk after this? Actually talk this time?”
The shorter nodded, pushing herself onto her tiptoes and tugging Kiriko down to meet her halfway, reinitiating the kiss. Kiriko indulged her for a few moments, eyes fluttering shut, but pulled away once more as she felt Hana attempting to deepen it.
“Hey, I said promise me.”
Hana huffed, frustration starting to seep ever so slightly into her tone, but it still remained playful for the majority. “I promise. Now shut it.”
Kiriko had always thought that it was ironic, and honestly quite irritating, how, despite the pair supposedly being ‘rivals’, they fit together so well. Their bodies pressed together, their locked lips, everything fit so perfectly. Hana hummed into the kiss, tilting her head as to avoid bumping their masks together, and also to deepen it. The hand on Hana’s jaw slid down to cup the back of her neck, fingers just barely dipping into Hana’s hair.
Kiriko lightly nipped at Hana’s bottom lip, smirking as the older girl gasped softly, lips parting. Kiriko took this opportunity in stride, pulling Hana impossibly closer. Kiriko registered a gentle pressure against her chest as Hana’s hand, carefully taking a few steps back as the pressure increased slightly with the shorter woman’s insistence. When her back hit the counter, she laughed quietly, but was once again hushed as Hana wrapped her arms around Kiriko’s neck.
After feeling the hard edges of Hana’s mask bump her nose one too many times, Kiriko grumbled, tearing her own mask off with her free hand, and tilting Hana’s head further back with the other to whisper into her mouth.
“Take it off.”
The shorter woman shuddered, failing to suppress the shiver that shot down her spine as their lips parted. She reached up, undoing the clasp at the back of her head and pulling the mask away, carelessly letting it drop onto the counter behind them.
Hana didn’t wait for a response, instead once again pressing herself close to the taller woman, hands finding purchase on Kiriko’s waist. She pressed her lips to the column of Kiriko’s throat in hot, open mouthed kisses; trailing upwards to the underside of her jaw, making sure that her lipstick left clear stamps on her lover’s skin. She felt Kiriko shift against her, exhaling a shaky breath as her hand now tangled fully into Hana’s hair, encouraging her, guiding her to the most sensitive areas of her throat.
Every few moments, Kiriko would mutter a few words that sent fire through Hana’s veins, urging her on. Her hands trembled as they fumbled with the buttons of Kiriko’s dress shirt, hastily pulling the offending article of clothing aside until it hung loosely on the taller woman’s shoulders.
Her lips trailed fire across Kiriko’s collarbone and even lower still, the woman at her mercy cursing quietly under her breath. Hana would pull back every now and then to admire her work, as if she was using Kiriko as her canvas, humming contentedly at what she saw before diving back in to further stain her partner’s skin.
Both of the women were worked up in every sense of the phrase. Kiriko was getting impatient, fingers dancing up and down Hana’s exposed arms or across her back and shifting her weight more often. Yet, unbeknownst to Hana, Kiriko’s eyes never left the woman in front of her; eyes lidded and lips curled in a lopsided smile, deep blush dusting her cheeks, unable to even think of anything else. Hana giggled against Kiriko’s heated skin, now instead pressing chaste, affectionate pecks to her chin, cheeks, forehead and nose.
The pair barely noticed when the bathroom door handle jiggled in warning before it opened - Hana clocked it a second too late, looking over her shoulder with wide eyes. Kiriko, however, was completely and utterly love-drunk, wholly satisfied from the attention her other half was relinquishing to her after months apart, to the point where nothing else at the time was anywhere near as important to her.
The intruder stared at them, their only visible features being blood-red eyes and stark white hair. Their voice and personality revealed their identity as quick as anything, however. A hearty laugh, preceded by a snort of pure amusement. This, of course, did not help to settle Hana’s nerves. Kiriko was still in a world of her own.
“Oh, Christ.” The newcomer giggled. “Kamori, I knew you were here for Miss Song, but in my bathroom? Come on now.”
Ah. Ashe.
Hana’s nerves eased slightly, knowing that they were in no imminent danger. Ashe didn’t get involved in their families’ dramas, instead scraping money from them with events exactly like this ball. She didn’t care that the two women were in a weird little forbidden romance situation. Hell, she was rooting for them.
The Song heir didn’t move, not wanting to expose the full situation to Ashe’s eyes. Ashe couldn’t see much of Kiriko from this angle - though, it was undoubtedly her - and Hana preferred it that way. She would rather not deal with teasing glances and playful jokes that the older woman would inevitably shoot at her at any given chance in the future.
Ashe simply grinned, shaking her head and turning away from the pair. She spoke over her shoulder, smile audible in her voice.
“I’m glad you’re together. But just get outta here, yeah? If someone else walked in, it’d be over for y’all.”
Hana nodded, muttering a small thanks. Ashe closed the door as she left, snorting another small laugh as she made her way back to the bar.
The shorter woman slowly turned back to her partner, slightly stunned. Once she did so, she found that Kiriko’s expression had changed; back to being focused, less giddy but still satisfied. And smug. Song groaned, lightly whacking the back of her hand against Kiriko’s chest. “She’s not going to let me live this down, you know.”
“Oh, I know.”
Hana raised an eyebrow, taking a step back and clicking her tongue against her teeth. All the while, the playful twinkle in her eyes remained. “Don’t get smart with me. Have fun cleaning up on your own.”
“Cleaning up on my…?” The taller woman turned to face the mirror, jaw dropping the moment her eyes met her reflection. The skin of her neck, chest and face was littered with lipstick marks, and while, yes, it was attractive, she could not go outside like this. Her smug expression had been wiped from her face, now instead being worn by Hana, who stood behind her, arms folded across her chest proudly as she admired her work in the mirror, her own lips smudged with the remnants of the makeup.
“Oh, fuck.”