Sayuri paused in her fawning when Sasha put his hand on her face. She put her own hand over his, her hands stained pink with some of Sasha’s blood.
“How can you ask me that when you’re drenched in your own blood?” Sayuri asked, her tone somewhat disapproving. But it was just a symptom of her worry. “That plan sucked, you got hurt, I’m sorry.” She said sympathetically, with furrowed brows and her tone shifting with guilt.
Sasha shook his head, adjusting his hand on Sayuri’s face just so he could run his thumb over her knuckles.
“It was better than no plan. We would have eventually gotten cornered and who knows what would have happened. At least this way, we were able to fight back.” He assured her before trying for a lighthearted smile. “Besides, I’ve been hurt way worse, believe it or not. More than that, I’ve been hurt over way less. I’d take another beating right now as long as you made it out unhurt.” _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Sayuri felt her heart thrum excitedly in her chest when Sasha spoke. They had sort of danced around the feelings of tenderness they had for each other. This was fairly straightforward, the hand on her face, the way he held her in his gaze. His blue eyes often felt exotic and intense, but in this moment they were so soft. For most of Sayuri’s life, she had been the scapegoat; Joe’s whipping boy. Sayuri endured pain and hardship with and unbreakable spirit and good humor. But for the first time she was feeling seen, someone you cherish, someone who was loved? She felt her cheeks heat up, an unfamiliar blush bloomed on her cheeks. She wanted to kiss him, among other things.
“Well, let’s try our best to avoid anymore trouble.” Sayuri said finally, after swallowing hard. She let go of his hand then, to bend down and check the wound on his side. Remarkably, it was healed. The skin was fresh and smooth, no scaring. Sayuri swiped the wet paper towel several times, wiping away only old blood. Sayuri exclaimed something in Japanese before standing back up, eyes wide with disbelief. “I can’t believe it! The cut is really gone!”
Sasha was well aware that his body was a miracle with heightened senses and its quick healing abilities, but it wasn't lost on him that it was quite a novelty to Sayuri who was unlike him in at least this way. He laughed at Sayuri's explanation, which was accompanied with a little hiss of pain as Sayuri wiped him clean.
"It's still a little tender, it's still tender." He said to her, looking down at the top of her head as she observed his wound site still. He so badly wanted to touch reach out and touch her again. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Sayuri’s girlish embarrassment was washed away by the remarkable pink skin; she couldn’t believe it. She wondered if her mom could do this too, or her grandma. She wasn’t really disappointed in missing this incredible gene, but more elated that she could witness it. Of course she could shift into a four legged animal, but this felt like real magic. She stood up straight again and wiped at his face again to see if it was the same, if the places where knuckles connected with bone and broke skin, were now closed up and reformed.
“We need to find you a new shirt.” She said then as she worked to clean his face. Every now and again she would peek under the stained towelette in effort to catch the transition.
“It’s not great,” Sayuri let an airy chuckle escape her. She put her hands on her hips and let out a thoughtful hum, trying to think about what to do next. Stealing at the bathhouse was easy enough, she was in an empty locker room. But now there were in a busy train station, lots of commuters and lots of building security. She also wondered how long it would be before the yakuza called for a search in this area. The goons on the train could get off the next stop and get a car, try to catch them on the road. She didn’t really want to separate in any capacity, they were stronger together than on their own, or at least Sayuri was.
“I think I have to leave you here for a bit, you need a new shirt and I don’t think we can get away with you walking around like this. Even though you’re not bleeding anymore.” Sayuri proposed. [/img]
Sasha opened his mouth to protest, but he knew that Sayuri had a point. He pressed his lips into a dissatisfied line and furrowed his brow before speaking.
"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?" He asked. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
“I’m more worried about leaving you here.” Sayuri admitted with an uneasy smile. “I’ll try to hurry though, don’t open the door for anyone but me. The password is Нас Не Догонят.” Sayuri said with a more playful smile then, proud of her choice in password.
With that, she turned on her heel and exited the private bathroom.
The train station was still busy, throngs of people bustling this way and that, waiting anxiously at the platform for their stop. Sayuri looked around cautiously, looking for anyone who might be looking for her. Although it just seemed like uninterested locals, waiting for the next train to arrive. She kept her head down and walked briskly past people, jogging up the stairs that led her above ground and back onto the street. Sayuri wasn’t familiar with the area, but she circled the block to familiarize herself with what was nearby. She had to go a block further to find a “retro women’s clothing store.” The outside was unremarkable, the sign was in English, in bold white letters, When Sayuri let herself in, the inside felt equally unremarkable. It was small, it appeared they only had one fitting room in the back, concealed by a large fabric curtain made from a tweed fabric that made it hard to move. There weren’t any mannequins, no outfits on display. Just a couple racks of clothes and two uninterested looking store employees. They were probably university age, one had little square glasses; these were chic in comparison to the teen girl at the bathhouse. She had rhinestone makeup and metallic star barrettes in her hair, that she fashioned into two low space buns. The other girl was click clacking away with long acrylic nails, on a hot pink flip phone. They both had in large indigo colored contacts, with bright white highlighter between their eyes on the bridge of their nose, and the middle of their forehead.
Sayuri smiled, gyarus, they shouldn’t give her too much trouble. They didn’t greet her when she came in, and Sayuri didn’t acknowledge them to draw attention to herself. Other customers did come in and try to get help from the two girls at the check out, but alas, they would only embarrass themselves when the girls continued to roll their eyes and ignore them. Sayuri filed through the hangers, a lot of the tops were women’s blouses that were made with a Japanese girls measurements, and not the measurements of the six foot something Russian man. But Sayuri did manage to snag a shirt for herself and for Sasha, and when she snagged a couple pairs of glasses on her way out, no one stopped her.
As promised, Sayuri hurried back to the train station, to the private bathroom she left Sasha in. She tapped on the outside of the door, “ Нас Не Догонят!” She said from outside the door.
"Alright, be careful." Sasha said, giving a small smile and a gentle wave as Sayuri bounced out of the bathroom.
And just like that he was alone.
Sasha stepped over to the door and waited a moment to make sure Sayuri wasn't going to need to be let back in immediately, as if she had anything she could have forgotten like a bag or wallet, before turning the lock over and stepping back and away from the door. It felt a little strange to be on his own after having spent the last day and a half in Sayuri's company, like the air around him had taken on a strange and stagnant silence, but he reminded himself that she'd be back soon and he could and would be just fine until then.
He sighed and turned to make his way over to the bathroom sink where he took in his visage for the first time since their run in with the yakuza. Besides the stab wound, the brunt of damage he'd taken on was on his face and his head, but looking at himself now, there was hardly any evidence of that besides the bit of blood smeared here and there from Sayuri's cleaning. All of his wounds had closed up and the goose egg he'd gotten on his head from being slammed into the train bathroom door was just barely a bump at his temple now. He looked away from the mirror and down at his midsection where he pulled up the bloody mess of fabric that was his shirt to look at his stab wound. As expected, it was fully closed up, the only indication anything had even happened was the flushed pink of his flesh that was fresh skin. Soon that would go away too, along with any of the residual ache. He let out a little sigh of relief, glad there would be nothing for Sayuri to fuss over by the time she returned, and proceeded to peel off his shirt.
Sasha wet the unscathed sections of his shirt in the basin of the sink and used the fabric to better wipe himself down. While he got more of the grime off of himself than Sayuri had managed, he admittedly liked it better when it was her hands working over him. Once he was cleaned up sufficiently, he wadded the shirt up and shoved it deep into the nearest trash can. He leaned against the wall and allowed himself to sink to the floor beside the door where he waited for Sayuri's return.
Just as Sasha began to feel antsy about the time Sayuri was taking, there was an abrupt knock on the door just beside his perch. He looked up and instantly felt himself get ten shades brighter when he heard Sayuri's voice. He reached up to turn over the lock.
"Небо уронит, Ночь на ладони." He finished the lyrics in response. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
After Sasha finished the lyrics and unlocked the door, Sayuri pushed it open to let herself in. She shut the door behind her hastily and locked it again before turning to face Sasha finally. When she did her breath did catch in her throat, taken aback to find him waiting there for her; shirtless. Of course it made perfect sense that he would clean himself up more, and throw away what remained of his shirt. But she hadn’t been expecting it, Sayuri had just been in a hurry to get back to him, she didn’t really think about much else. She saw him shirtless in the bathhouse, but he was mostly submerged in the water, and his visage obscured in its reflection. Now she was confronted again, by muscled arms and inky black tattoos. He was mostly clean now and appeared to be healed, she wouldn’t get away with touching him now if that was her reasoning. She felt her face get hot and her heart picking up, so she held up her haul between them.
“I was able to get us some stuff!” She blurt.
She had two shirts draped over her forearm, and the sunglasses folded in her palm. Sayuri didn’t really need the sunglasses, but she just liked them and wanted to match Sasha; who very much needed to conceal his exotic blue eyes. One of the shirts, was an off white crewneck sweatshirt that read, “Choosy people choose Jesus,” across the front in a jiffy peanut butter font. The other was a jersey style shirt that read, “Big Mean Jo Gene,” across the back with a jersey number of 75.
“You can pick which shirt you want, but I do feel most like big mean Jo gene.” Sayuri said.
Sasha stood from his spot on the floor and reached over to turn over the shirts in Sayuri's grasp, smiling and letting out a little chuckle as he read the text. He raised his eyebrows and nodded.
"I think you do give off Jo Gene vibes." He teased as he reached for the other sweatshirt. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Sayuri relinquished the sweatshirt to Sasha, holding up the remaining for examination.
“Don’t sell yourself short, you could be big Jo Gene if you wanted to.” Sayuri began with a laugh as she turned around so not to face Sasha. Sayuri wasn’t injured or bloodied like Sasha, there was more blood on her hands from trying to clean him up than there were on her clothes. But, she’d been seen and she knew that the yakuza grunts would’ve surely made note of what they were wearing. This meant she had to finally shed the suit jacket of Sasha’s that she had been wearing. This saddened her but she had no intentions of leaving it behind. With her back still turned to Sasha, she shrugged off Sasha’s suit jacket and folded it up into a modest square that she held between her knees while she changed. She pulled off her other stolen shirt and tossed it behind her in the proximity of the trash can, though she didn’t wait to see if it landed in said trash can. She then pulled the jersey over her head and smoothed it out over her. Both shirts were considered bigger and baggier by Japanese standards, but she was sure either would still be somewhat snug on Sasha. She would have to keep an eye out for a Japanese big n’ tall.
“Aren’t American’s a fan of Jesus anyways? You’ve got all those churches tattooed on you.” Sayuri asked over her shoulder, not knowing the difference between churches and cathedrals, nor the symbolism behind them when it comes to Russian mob affiliate tattoos.
"Ah, I couldn't take that away from you." Sasha teased, watching as Sayuri turned her back to him to change.
It wasn't the first time he had seen her bare skin, but for some reason having her back exposed so carelessly to him sent a thrill up Sasha's spine. Facing away from him felt like an unspoken invitation to admire the narrow canyon of her spine and the curve of her hips. He'd seen bits of it in the onsen and then bits of peeking out behind clothes, but this was the first time he'd really seen the entirety of Sayuri's back tattoo and that, in and of itself, was also something to behold. There was something about it, perhaps the way the koi fish seemed to move with her body, that was sensual in nature. It made his mouth water, but just as soon as quickly as he began his lustful admiration, he was quick to reel it back in.
He had to remind himself, it would be unfair to lust after her the same way that Yakuza dog did, though it was certainly a Herculean task for him to not covet someone so beautiful.
Just as she tugged the shirt over herself, Sasha looked away, only glancing back up at her as she turned and addressed his tattoos and his assumed love for American Jesus. He looked down at his exposed chest, still holding onto the shirt she'd handed him, and then gestured to his black ink.
"I didn't get these because I'm religious. My family really only goes to church for weddings and high holidays to serve face, though, maybe my дедушка might feel otherwise. He was brought up Orthodox and never held my бабушка to his family's traditions, at least not seriously." Sasha explained before shaking his head, realizing how silly it felt to explain something that an outsider to the family might find uninteresting or unimportant. "Anyways, I didn't get these because I love the church. It's my фрак с орденами, my "tailcoat of decorations". It's my criminal record so others know what I've done and where I stand in the hierarchy, which," he leaned in with a conspiratorial smile, "I am very high on, just so you know." _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Sayuri smiled listening to Sasha, under her breath she repeated the words he spoke in Russian. That’s how she picked up languages quickly, she heard the words and repeated them in fragmented pieces with a focus on tonal inflections. She could attach the meaning later once she rehearsed the sounds for herself. Sayuri was a lonely person, language was how she found connection; she wanted to connect with Sasha. While she didn’t know that Sasha was worried his explanations were unimportant or uninteresting, for Sayuri it was the opposite. She wanted to know more and anticipated inquiring further when they had the time to speak on it. She turned then, smiling at Sasha; amused. She gave him a good once over, observing how the shirt fit; it was a little snug, she knew it would be, not that she minded it. Somewhat boldly, she reached out again to smooth out the front of his shirt, unable to ignore the hardness of his abdomen under her fingertips. If she was blushing, she chose to play it off and ignore it.
She already knew he was someone important, that had been impressed upon her before his meeting with the yakuza. But she found it endearing that he wanted her to know, like he was trying to be playful or impress her.
“Well,” Sayuri began after clearing her throat. “You will have to tell me later how you became so important, how you earned these.” Sayuri said, a finger lingering where one of the cathedral’s turrets were concealed under the shirt. She took her hand back then, only to offer him a pair of women’s gucci sunglasses, knock offs of course, with a couple rhinestone’s missing from the G.
“Anyways, let’s take a look at where we landed and figure out or next moves.” Sayuri decided, poking her head out of the bathroom before leaving ahead of him.
Sayuri had looked around a bit whenever she left the first time to acquire their disguises. They were in Osaka, in the Mishima district; this was mostly a commuter hub for travelers. Here, the jobs were in pharmaceuticals and financial institutions. There was also a chemical plant, and a plastic manufacturer, offering entry level plant jobs for those who couldn’t get into finance or pharmaceuticals. When they exited the station, Sayuri looked around and she was not coming up with anything yet. There weren’t obvious tourist traps for Sayuri to take advantage of, or well meaning locals to swindle. But if Sasha observed Sayuri, he would be able to tell she was thinking, her dark eyes fluttering across street signs and intersections. Osaka was about six hours from Tokyo, it didn’t feel like they were any closer to their destination. Her stomach growled and she placed a hand over her middle. Sayuri sighed with some regret spending all their money on train tickets, only to be blown off course without a penny between them. She wondered if there was a 711 she could try and steal a couple of sandwiches, a thought that was depressing and nostalgic, she hadn’t had to steal food in a really long time. For all their faults and mistreatment, the yakuza kept the girls fed at least, she ate better and more regularly at the bar than she did at home growing up.
“Gosh, is it your turn to do a crime for us?” Sayuri asked with a somewhat pathetic sigh that trailed into a chuckle.
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