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Mai is nervous. She isn’t really sure how they found her but they did and she found a letter in the mailbox, a thick formal envelope encased in a larger brown one so the postal stamps do not mar the soft, luxurious paper.
The Head of the Clan wishes to see you.
Mai does not wish to see the Head of the Clan, has no desire to ever see the Head of the Clan that deemed her so useless and unneeded that Mai had simply walked from those doors, never looked back, and never had anyone come looking for her. Not that there would have been anyone, not after Maki left.
She straightens her posture as the taxi approaches the corner of the estate in the late afternoon sun, smoothes the invisible creases of her skirt and swallows.
It is time to get this over and done with and then she can finally bid this godforsaken place goodbye.
No one seems to even bat an eye as she steps into the compound. They look up to look at her, sure, but then they go back to whatever it was that they had been doing. Mai does not expect anything else. She shouldn’t, after all. There is nothing to expect.
She would clench her fists but there is no point in showing weakness this early so she keeps her chin stubbornly up and follows the servant through the long halls.
Dread coils in her stomach as she identifies where they are going, realizes that they simply pass the great hall where the Head of the Clan would receive visitors and continue past towards the bedrooms at the back. A shiver runs down her spine now as a servant meets her eyes, holds her gaze for a moment too long, before looking back down to their work.
Mai has known this day would come but she had never thought it actually would, that she would fall back in line so easily, so quickly and it is another shiver that spreads downwards from the nape of her neck, fading into the movements of her limbs as she realizes why she was called back.
She has a life outside the Clan now. It isn’t much, attending university in Tokyo, living in a small apartment, doing shifts at the neighborhood convenience store for a little spending money, but it is a life. A life of her own that she—
They come to a halt outside the doors to an unfamiliar room.
Mai takes in the carvings on the side and thinks that she should have ripped the envelope up, torn it to shreds, set them on fire, and run.
She should have run. To Hokkaido. To Okinawa. To Kyushu. To another country. Taken all her savings, sold all her belongings and left everything behind.
She had gotten out. She thought she had.
But here she stands in the doorway to the Head of the Clan’s bedroom and she knows, she just knows that this is not a room she will be leaving of her own volition. No, not here. Not in the bowels of this Clan that is and has always been governed by the simplest rule—survival of the fittest.
Mai is not the fittest and will never be.
And so she steps into the room, draws the doors shut behind her, and waits.
It is dark by the time the doors to the room slide open and Mai is startled from her phone. She had not sensed any Cursed Energy approach, none of that suffocating, oppressive aura that the Head of the Clan would throw around him, heavy enough to let everyone know he was coming.
No, all she gets warning of is the movement in the corner of her eyes and Mai knows she shouldn’t, that it is too early to give in, that she should fight the way she would have but Mai isn’t her and so she doesn’t fight, simply gathers herself, sits seiza, eyes fixed to the floor.
And she waits.
She waits as footsteps approach, the sound oddly familiar but not familiar enough to shake away the terror at the realization that she realizes that she recognizes neither the weight of this presence nor any shred of Cursed Energy.
God. Her throat trembles. It isn’t him , is it?
Him with the leering eyes and the leering smirk and the comments that made her want to jump out of her skin, whose hands would hover meaningfully but never touch, always, always the promise of more, so much so that she did the one thing she thought she never could and left.
If it is him, and it might be, he would do this. He would tease her and he would toy with her because he knows that he has her in the palm of his hand, that she has not the strength to oppose him or run from him. He would give her false hope and then tear it all away. He would. She knows him well enough for that, knows that if it is him that she has already lost from the moment she stepped through those gates.
The feet come to a halt in front of her. There are no words but a gloved hand extends into her field of vision.
Supple black leather wrapped around slim fingers and for a moment Mai thinks of someone else, thinks of someone she hasn’t heard from in so long that she doesn’t know if they still live. No, she—but—
She swallows. There is no room for unnecessary thoughts. This is a battle, a losing battle but Mai will hold out for as long as she can. She is not stronger than he is, than any of them would be, but perhaps she wants to live more.
The glove reaches beneath her chin, traces it gently and Mai tries to hide the shudder of fear that runs through her. This, this too is uncharacteristic of him, he who had barked loud and long about all the foul, foul ways he would do with her what he wished when it was his turn.
And now it is.
Gloved fingers smooth and cool cup her chin, run a thumb across the plane of her cheek and still Mai refuses to look up, does not respond to the soft, almost tender pressure. He can take what he wants from her, can fool her with this false kindness but she will not let him break her, no, she has struggled for too long to break so quickly, so easily. She will not give him the—
“Mai.”
Her head whips up, her eyes wide in shock.
She would know that voice from anywhere, has heard it over and over and over in her dreams.
Maki stands before her in all the handsome trappings befitting the status of the Head of the Clan, gloved hand on her cheek, Maki who Mai hasn’t seen in years, Maki whose hair is cropped short now, unfamiliar scars winding over her skin but every bit as tall and confident and powerful as Mai has ever loved her to be.
And Mai sits seiza in front of her sister who looks down at her, expression cool and unreadable but for the glint of something fierce in her eyes. Mai breaks the gaze first, her heart beating frantic in her chest as she struggles to put this all together.
Maki is the Head of the Clan.
Maki called her back.
Maki had her taken here.
Maki wants—
Maki’s thumb brushes her cheek again and this time Mai has to hold herself back from leaning into the touch. She swallows as Maki’s thumb lingers on the corner of her mouth, featherlight on her lips before it gently nudges them apart.
Her heart doesn’t know what this means but it races, races as the gloved digit rests between her lips. Mai doesn’t know if she wants her to but Maki doesn’t push into her mouth, doesn’t press down on her tongue or force her jaw any wider, simply holds the hand there and waits.
Mai swallows as she stares at the material, as the scent of leather surrounds her, sending a shiver down her spine. The gloved thumb moves ever so slightly, up, then down, then presses in, slowly, fractionally. Mai’s lips part as it goes. Then it stops and Mai’s teeth brush now against the black leather.
Maki waits, doesn’t say anything.
Mai gives in, has never been able to deny Maki anything, has never truly wanted to.
She takes the seam of the gloved finger in her teeth and tugs. This is what Maki wants, isn’t it? The gloved hand trembles once then relaxes, the loose fist unclenching and she keeps the tension, pulling until the material begins to slowly shift.
And shift it does.
It slips almost all the way after the very first moment of give, the soft supple material bending under the influence of gravity and flopping against her lips. It is still warm, she notes. Warm not quite hot like skin would be but warm enough.
Now bare fingers wrap around her chin, tilting her head upwards and Mai cannot fight the pressure, has neither reason nor desire to.
A fire burns in Maki's eyes as they rove across her, as they linger on her lips and the leather held between her teeth. Then Maki's fingers, familiar and foreign, trail across her cheek. Mai releases the glove and Maki takes it but for a moment before she lets it fall quietly to the floor between them.
The fingers and their gentle caresses return, dragging shivers across her skin with each touch. Then Maki pauses, two fingers resting on her lower lip, waiting, waiting, just waiting.
Mai takes them in her mouth.
There are so many words she has thought up over so many years but none find their way out between her lips and instead she takes Maki into them, lets Maki onto her tongue, swirling around the digits like she can make Maki see what she doesn’t want to say.
She takes Maki's fingers deeper into her mouth now and Maki's breath catches. There is the finest tremor in her fingers, a hesitancy that Mai seeks to soothe away with each brush and each suck.
She swallows and Maki's hand shakes, the almost ticklish brush of her short nails against the back of Mai's throat and she doesn't know why she's doing this or what it is that she's doing but she doesn't want to stop.
Maki doesn't seem to want her to stop either because she makes no move to pull away now, oddly still as Mai works more of Maki between her lips.
Then she looks up.
Looks up and meets dilated pupils, a raging flame hidden behind the still set of an otherwise expressionless face. It takes her a heartbeat to finally realize what this means, so long has it been since she has last seen Maki, since she has last tried to read what those eyes have always told her.
Maki wants her.
The knowledge burns hot in Mai, sets aflame what she’s never let herself have since Maki left, takes her heart in its hands and squeezes it, squeezes it whole.
But then Maki swallows.
Her thumb brushes the corner of Mai’s mouth, lingers for a moment and then she pulls her fingers from Mai’s lips and now Mai doesn’t know what this means but it feels a lot like when Maki left her years and years ago.
Except this time instead of wanting to curl up in a ball and hide from the world, now a dozen sharp words dance on the tip of her tongue, desperate to leave.
But she waits because as she is different now, so is Maki.
Maki, the new Head of the Zenin clan.
They need to talk.
Maki knows this. They need to talk. She’s not sure what about anymore because her thoughts are wiped clean from the hot, wet heat of Mai’s mouth, from the feel of Mai’s tongue on her fingers. But she knows they need to talk.
That’s why she—
A flicker of something flashes across Mai’s face, a twist of an emotion that Maki doesn’t recognize. Mai kneels before her and it sets her heart on fire, burns with a need that she never let herself have. Mai’s lips are slightly parted still and Maki wonders what sounds she can pull from their depths, wonders what Mai will let her have.
No.
They need to talk. They need to talk. About what this is. About what this is going to be. About why Maki called her back. About why Maki called her here. About why—
Mai looks up at her with those eyes and something snaps in her.
“Get up,” she says sharply before she says something else, something a little too revealing, something that neither of them have ever given voice to, something she’s not sure she’s ready to say. “We need to talk.”
“If that is what you wish,” says Mai, flat and terrifyingly familiar.
Maki’s heart grows cold in an instant because Mai has never taken this tone with her. Never, not even when she’d told her she was leaving, no. This is different. This is the tone Mai takes with the Family, the one that coiled deep in her heart and turned itself into determination—the tone Maki never, ever wanted to hear again.
“I—”
Mai waits stock-still and that sends a tremor through Maki, has Maki clenching her fist, her fingers sticky now as they curl in on each other. This isn’t… This isn’t what she wants.
She swallows and exhales, long and slow. Mai’s eyes flick to her, flick up to her. There is a spark now in them, something that Maki thinks she might recognize. Something that gives her hope that not all is lost.
“Mai,” says Maki. “It’s just me.”
Mai’s jaw clenches and Maki knows she hasn't read her wrong, knows that there is something still that lingers between them and she will take that, whatever that might be.
“It’s… still me.”
Mai’s eyes hold hers. Mai holds herself so, so still but her gaze travels across Maki’s face now, so slowly it feels like those eyes sear a path across her skin and take hold of her heart, pumping it alive again with the knowledge that just as she is changed now but still the same, so is Mai.
So is Mai.
Furious though she may be and hurt, but her sister is still here and if Mai will not come to her then she is not beneath going to Mai. She never has been.
So Maki sinks to the floor.
She wants.
Wants to reach out but doesn’t know if it is too soon, doesn’t know if it is too much—it seems so strange that she is so afraid of breaking this, whatever this is that they have now, whatever it is that stretches between them in this room in this house that once rejected both of them but now belongs to her.
“I—”
Mai kisses her, reaches out and pulls her close and kisses her bruisingly hard, teeth nipping, biting as they go and Maki can feel the words on her tongue, can taste the bitterness and the frustration and the anger on her lips, is too stunned for a moment to do anything else but take what it is that Mai wants to give her, give whatever it is that Mai wants to take from her, finds that she doesn't mind because she wants Mai and she has her and that might just be enough.
It doesn't seem to be enough for Mai whose hand finds her hair, fingers winding between the short strands. She pulls hard enough to sting and Maki lets her, would let her do anything.
Then Mai breaks the kiss.
There are angry tears in her eyes and Maki still doesn't know what to say, has never been good with words anyway, so she reaches out and brushes them away before they can fall. Mai's cheek is soft and warm under the brush of her palm and she trembles but does not pull away, holds her gaze, angry and heated and wanting and Maki wants to kiss her again.
So she does.
She swallows the sound of protest that squeaks from Mai's throat, takes her time now to explore as much of Mai as Mai will let her. She pushes for permission. Mai grants it with a growl and there is something there that is so quintessentially Mai.
Maki laughs, laughs against her lips and there is an exasperated spark in Mai's eyes that takes her heart and lifts it buoyant.
She smiles.
Mai scowls.
"What on earth are you—mmph—"
She kisses Mai quiet, delighting in the nip she gets for her troubles. Then Mai's hands wind around her, pulling her closer and closer as she deepens the kiss. Soft hands brush against her chest, working at the buttons of her shirt but that's not what Maki wants from her right now so she reaches down and gently pushes them away.
Mai makes a sound of displeasure that she kisses briefly away before she pulls back.
"Let me take care of you," Maki says.
Mai freezes and it is adorable, the red that spreads across her cheeks and up her ears. Maki holds her gaze and then Mai nods fractionally. Her eyes break away right after, the blush deepens, and Mai has no way of knowing just how that makes her feel.
Not yet she doesn't.
Maki reaches for her blouse, drags her hands down Mai's waist to her skirt, draws a hitched breath for her troubles. She leans closer, then pushes Mai back onto the soft futon laid out on the floor behind them.
Mai's eyes are wide and her lip trembles and for a moment Maki isn't sure this is anticipation, pauses where her hands hover over Mai's waistband.
Then Mai takes Maki's wrist in her hand and Maki watches, transfixed as Mai takes her fingers into her mouth.
This time there is no mistaking what this means, no mistaking the way she swirls her tongue and licks the length of Maki's fingers for anything else, with the way it sends fire shooting through her veins, has her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest.
Mai doesn't have to use her words to tell her what she wants when she can show her instead.
Then she releases Maki's fingers from her wet lips and never let it be said that Maki is a slow learner because fuck the skirt, she flips it up, doesn't even bother with pulling Mai's underwear down, simply pushing the damp cloth aside.
"Fuck," she breathes. "God. I—"
Mai yanks her down for a kiss and Maki knows too what this means.
Mai is wet, so, so hot and Maki dips just barely in, gathers the wetness to spread on her fingers, sticky as she finds Mai's clit.
The first brush of pressure draws a moan and the sound sends a thrill through her—she wants to hear it again, wants to hear more, wants to feel more and as Mai presses their lips together, insistent and demanding, Maki works circles and patterns, searches for the rhythm that has Mai's breaths coming in pants, that has Mai's hands gripping her shoulders, has her trembling.
She finds it.
She finds it and she works Mai up, learns what the pressure on her arms and the tremors under her hands and the gasps on her skin mean, learns Mai anew as she rubs her and—
"Inside," Mai chokes out and Maki's head goes absolutely fucking blank.
"Inside," Mai's voice drops to a whine as Maki struggles to make sense of what Mai is truly asking of her, "Fuck, Maki, just put your fucking—"
She doesn't need to be told twice, sinking her fingers into Mai, groaning as the tightness that surrounds them, at the moan that tears itself from Mai's lips.
"Fuck—"
Whatever other words there were or might have been now fade into a punch of air as Maki thrusts into her.
Mai's arms pull her closer, the kiss sloppy, distracted, punctuated by gasps and whimpers and Maki can feel her, can feel her getting close and she's never wanted anything more, never needed anything else as she fucks Mai on those same fingers, lets Mai cling to her as she pushes her, trembling then taut, up and over.
Mai comes apart in her hands, clenching hard around her fingers and Maki doesn't stop, only slows as she fucks Mai through it, holds her and grounds her and lets Mai fall slowly back to her.
And Mai does. Mai does.