Isuke returned from the store, grumbling about how the kid behind the service counter was always much too friendly. But Boutarou's gaze was somewhere distant, far beyond the window. Part of him was still thinking about killing Katsumi. The other part was plotting an accidental meeting between Mr. Umari and Sayaka... And the third part of him was blushing, fingers mindlessly toying with his bottom lip.
The rest of the hour trip to the "secret hideout" was made in near silence.
When he went around to the other side of the vehicle to open Sayaka's door, he couldn't help but stare up at the towering apartment complex. It must have been at least fifteen stories high. "Hey Isuke." The door handle popped up under his lose grip, latch clicking open.
"What?"
His eyes wandered Sayaka's sleeping body for a moment to assess the best way to lift her out of the car. "You said that sleeping drug would wear off in three hours, right?"
"Mmm... Around there. Might take longer if she hasn't been getting sleep lately. It's already been three and a half."
"Ah." He tucked his hands under her first, leaning forward until she was securely in his arms. "That's why."
Isuke tilted his head to question him, but Boutarou didn't answer. He gingerly lifted her limp body out of the small car door opening.
"You know, you could put her on your back and it would be less work. And then not as many people would stare at you."
Boutarou just walked towards the front entrance as casually as he knew how. "She's injured. Her ribs are cracked. If I put her on my back, it'll probably make it worse."
"Why didn't you just say that?"
"I had the feeling she wouldn't want you to know."
They walked through the halls, taking the elevator up to the seventh floor. A man entered on the second, staring at Sayaka with a glare of disapproval. Boutarou opened his mouth, but Isuke immediately put a hand on his arm and shook his head.
They departed from the man only to walk down a series of hallways until they came to Isuke's door. He entered a passcode into the handle before heaving it open with a metallic creak. And Boutarou's eyes widened.
The dark interior was illuminated by multicolored LEDs that reflected off of the white ceramic plates in the kitchen sink. Boutarou noted the huge TV mounted on the wall and secured by side supports, just in case of an earthquake. A desk with a triple monitor display blinked to life as Isuke knelt over it, moving the mouse. Truly more of a hideout than anything else.
"What are you doing?"
"Dad is forcing me to shut down anything that uses the internet. The only thing I'm permitted to use is the landline we have in case of emergency. I'm not stupid enough to go without a way of contacting the outside world... But I also don't want the outside world finding this place. Under any circumstances. And apparently, if paid enough money, that stupid hacker could find it."
"I see..." A burning sensation was spreading through his arms. He looked around for a place to set Sayaka down, but all he saw was a massive beanbag that looked like it could fit all three of them sitting side by side. For now, it would do. "What is this?"
"It's called a foof." Isuke explained as Boutarou laid her down, carefully arranging her limbs. "Found it online one day and decided to buy it. It's great for gaming in front of the TV."
He hadn't noticed before, but the side supports were actually shelves that contained a few consoles, neatly organized video games cases, some manga, and a couple magazines.
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The Accompanist
रोमांसConstant bickering. Thus was the life of Utsuhima Boutarou and Umari Sayaka. He grew to hate her and her cocky confident personality, her perfectionist attitude, her short stature and oversized instrument. Her rejection of the world outside of music...
