Chapter Text
In all of four long and quiet years, Yae Miko’s house has never been messier and livelier than it has been tonight.
“Will you stop moving already? I am trying to fix you up, here.”
“No, see, I just wanted to explain that…”
“And I am listening! So why in the Archon’s name are you running away?”
Ei holds both hands up, trying to stop Miko from coming any closer with the rolls of bandages in her hands. The house is an absolute mess – it looks like a whirlwind has run through the apartment, and it may as well have been – Raiden Ei, in her clumsy, unfamiliar attempt to evade her determined pursuer in the president’s own house, has stumbled, knocked and tripped over almost every piece of furniture the president owns.
Miko steps over toppled cushions with an amused grin, approaching slowly as if approaching a wild kitten, stretching out the bandages in her hands as she finally corners her after a half-hour pursuit.
“Honestly. I’m glad I took the time to change,” Miko says, dressed comfortably in an oversized shirt and shorts, “If you’d made me chase you in that dress, I’d have been much less kind about all of… this.”
Ei backs up slowly, desperately racking her brain for an excuse she can give the president regarding her injury. “About this… it’s nothing, really, you see, President, it’s because, well, um…— oof!”
She backs up this time into the corner of the low-lying tea table in the living room, losing her balance as she falls back — first stumbling into the curtains, and back onto the stack of blankets Ei tried throwing in Miko’s way some fifteen minutes earlier.
Miko’s concern quickly turns into unrestrained laughter as she watches the Shogun wrestle with the sheets, promptly making things worse — and then resigning to her fate once she realizes wrestling with the sheets isn’t getting her anywhere — much less out of her awkward position with one foot of hers caught in the curtains and the other wrapped up tight in the blankets.
“What are you doing, you silly bot?” Miko laughs, her amethyst eyes twinkling merrily as she looks down at the disheveled Ei, “Are you trying to get yourself under permanent maintenance back at RR?”
“I… I’m not usually this clumsy, I swear…”
Miko laughs again, and Ei wonders why the sound of the president’s laughter is so pleasing to the ears. “No matter. This works for me just fine.”
Miko hauls the largest first-aid box Ei has ever seen over and casually takes a seat on the marbled floor next to Ei while she’s still trapped in two different fabrics.
“...You’re not going to help me out of this?” Ei asks.
“Pffft. And why would I do that, lest you run again?” Miko gives the Shogun a wink, and Ei hangs her head in defeat as she lies back down against the soft blankets. “Now, let’s see what we’re dealing with…”
Ei tries to resist at first, but she gives in eventually when Miko fixes her with a glare. She allows the president to help her out of her suit, and gingerly, Miko takes Ei’s left arm in hers and lifts it up.
Carefully, she folds back Ei’s sleeve to reveal some pretty bad swelling and purple bruising on Ei’s wrist, and Ei swallows nervously when the President’s expression morphs into a frown.
“So, um, you see, it looks bad, but really, it’s just… a minor system overload resulting in a temporary malfunction in my primary articulation unit... the heat dissipation error in my system caused excessive thermal stress in my wrist components, necessitating a cooldown period… just a small recalibration of the motor function driver in my wrist actuator—”
“Oh the archons,” Miko groans with a shake of her head, reaching over for the bandages she retrieved earlier, “More robot spiel… Please, save it for when I’m much more drunk or much less awake.”
“...Pres—” Ei begins, but she doesn’t get to finish her sentence when Miko pushes her face away.
“Your face is in the way,” She states bluntly, tearing the packaging off a fresh batch of bandages with her teeth, “Now, be quiet and look away or you’ll stress me out. I’m busy here.”
Raiden Ei presses her lips together and keeps her mouth shut after realizing how the president has her fingers all over her swollen wrist. With just a single squeeze, Yae Miko could so easily give Ei an early glimpse of Celestia itself.
Not that she thought the president would do that, but after a long night, Ei didn’t exactly feel like taking her chances.
So she looks away, choosing to stare at the mess she’s made of the house and how oddly nonchalant Miko was about it all; her gaze panning across the apartment until a shade of pink enters the corner of her vision.
She turns her head just slightly to the left to look at it — the soft, pretty pink hair that made the President stand out wherever she goes — and Ei notices the gentle curve of Miko’s hair around her ears, looking something akin to a fox’s ears.
Ei resists the sudden urge to reach out and rub those ‘ears’ between her fingers like she used to do with her sister’s pet rabbit.
It’s rare to have pink hair in this country, rarer still to have such beautiful features to complement them with; and Ei is too preoccupied with staring that she barely even feels the tickle of the bandages as Miko wraps layers around her wrist.
Her eyes move further along and her gaze falls onto Miko. She can’t help but notice how the president rarely bats those long lashes of hers when she’s focused, how those clear, amethyst eyes narrow with a little furrow in her brow, or the way Miko takes a small bite of her lip when she’s concentrating…
…thump. thump. thump.
“...How pretty.”
Amethyst eyes flit up to meet hers.
“Hm?” Miko asks, “Did you say something?”
“Huh?” Ei blinks, jerking her head away as if she hadn’t been staring at her the entire time.
“I, uh, no…?”
“Is that so?” Miko says, leaning back as she dusts her hands off, puffing out her chest with pride. “Well, anyway, we’re all done. Quite the handiwork, if I dare say so myself.”
Ei glances down at her hand and then back up at the president, before doing a double take at Miko’s… ‘handiwork’.
“Miss Yae,” Ei begins, “....You don't have the slightest clue as to what you're doing, do you?”
Instead of a properly wrapped wrist, Raiden Ei can see almost no skin at all, seeing as how her entire left arm is now wrapped up in layers and layers of white dressing. Instead of a limb, she's now got a stump of bandages for a hand, and she hears a quiet wheeze coming from the President as Miko tries her best to suppress her laughter.
“What could you possibly mean? I am so clearly skilled in the art of first-aid.”
Ei tries to bend her arm, but it is completely stuck in the white cast she’s been given, unable to even feel her elbow.
“…Indeed, clear as day,” Ei says, completely deadpan. “On a completely unrelated note, who taught you first-aid? Just so I know who to avoid, in the future.”
Miko laughs airily. “Good luck with that, since you’re looking right at her.”
“Well, that about explains things…”
“Pffft. Ass. That’s what I get for being nice?”
Miko chuckles, grabbing yet another spool of bandages from the first-aid box. “If you’re so unsatisfied, I can re-do the dressing, you know. As they say, practice makes perfect, yes?”
Ei grimaces, hugging her cast to her chest. “…I’ll be getting a full body cast at this rate, so please stop practicing.”
Miko chuckles again. “Your loss, then. I know so many who’d jump at the opportunity to be patched up by yours truly, you know.”
She is all smiles when she gets up, clearly amused as she hauls the first-aid kit back across the living room. “Anyway, I’ve dropped Ms. Kujou a text. She’ll be down here in the morning to check on your status and if, well… any limbs need to be replaced. Don’t worry. You’ll be as good as new.”
“…I see. Thanks.”
It’s a minor sprain, Ei thinks, nothing major enough to warrant calling Kujou down here to check; and more importantly, Ei worries how the news would escalate when it inevitably reached her sister’s ears. She just knows that Makoto would worry herself sick over something so minor.
Damn it.
After everything she’s done to keep Makoto from worrying in the last few years, going so far as to lie to her about her living situation… Ei can’t believe this is the one that’s going to reach her sister’s ears.
What if Makoto pulls her out because of this?
Huh?
Ei catches herself.
Isn’t that something she should want?
“…I was worried, you know,” Miko starts, and Ei turns to meet the president’s sidelong gaze. “Even though in the back of my mind I knew you were fine because of, well, the whole robot thing... it's just - Pfft. They did too good of a job with your emotions, I think."
Miko turns away with a wry smile, shaking her head.
Ei suddenly thinks of amethyst eyes, and the worry reflected in them when they saw her up on that stage, and the hardened resolve that set in as they turned to face Koji.
“...I’m sorry,” Ei blurts out, and the president looks at her curiously after stowing the first-aid kit away in the storeroom. “I was... trying not to hinder you and stay out of your way tonight, but… I think I might have ruined your important night, after all.”
Miko pauses for a second. “...How so?”
“Because of me, you had to leave your own event early, and…” Guilt hammers in Ei’s chest as she speaks, “...I know how important your father’s deal was to you. If I had just… played a little longer on the violin… maybe you wouldn’t have had to sour your relationship with Koji, after all.”
Ei looks down at her makeshift cast, unwilling to make eye contact with Miko. But she hears the soft steps of the president’s as she crosses the room back to her, and then a soft chuckle as Miko’s nimble fingers work on getting her legs free.
“You really are silly. So that’s what you’ve been worrying about?”
It’s not quite what Ei expects to hear, and when she looks up at her, the president meets her gaze with a gentle expression.
“You’ve had that frown on your face all night, and I’m sure it’s not because of your wrist,” Miko reaches over with a smile, pushing out the crease between Ei’s brows with two fingers.
“And if it would put you at ease… my father would have sooner rolled over in his grave than watch me take shit from that man just to save his deal. Besides, I don’t think the deal’s quite over yet, considering the leverage I now have over him.”
The confident smile on Miko’s face floods Ei’s chest with relief. She takes in a long breath, and the tension melts from her shoulders. “...That’s a relief. It’s good to know.”
“And if you must make me repeat myself…” Miko pretends to grumble as she frees Ei’s other leg, “You made the night much better. You saved me, took care of me, protected my father’s deal and helped me keep my cool for as long as I did… it means a lot to me. Thank you, Shogun.”
It’s not how she expected this conversation to go, so the fake robot doesn’t quite know what to say. “...It’s nothing to thank me for.”
“It’s not nothing,” Miko insists gently, looking towards the grand piano nestled in the corner of her penthouse. “If it weren’t for you being here… I wouldn’t have known I could still play, too.”
There’s that look on her face again, and Ei has to suppress the thoughtless urge to ask the president about it. But Miko notices the curiosity on her face and gives her an encouraging nudge.
“It’s okay. You can ask me about it, if you want. Anything you’d like. Just for tonight, I’ll answer them honestly.”
Tentative, Ei glances at the piano behind Miko. “...Why did you stop playing?”
The question doesn’t surprise the president, but Miko still looks away for a little while, hesitating to answer. Ei is patient as she waits for the answer, and when Miko finally speaks, her voice is quiet and pensive.
“...You might already know this when Koji mentioned it earlier, but… my parents were indeed quite the pair of musicians. Or at least, my mother was a world-renowned pianist. My father just loved to tag along,” Miko says, chuckling at the memory.
“Decades ago, he watched her perform for the first time at the City Arts Center, and he fell in love at first sight. He swore to her that night that he’d never love another soul — and as far as I know, they’ve been together ever since.”
Ei smiles. “That’s… actually really sweet.”
“Pfft. It is. They were soulmates in every essence of the word,” The corners of Miko’s lips turn up in a wistful smile as she turns to face Ei. “They used to sit right there, on that little bench, and play together all the time. It didn’t matter if my father was any good or if my mother had an upcoming performance to prepare for, if there was an opportunity, they’d carve out what little time they had to play together.
“Then, when I was old enough to press the keys, they’d squeeze me right between them, and that’s when they taught me how to play. I can still remember their hands over mine, guiding my fingers across the ivory keys… Sometimes we would just fool around, creating clumsy duets that somehow managed to sound halfway decent; other times we’d sit together around the piano and I’d listen to them talk about their favorite musicians or their favorite piece of music history. It was fascinating somedays and terribly boring on the others — but we spent so much time together like that as a family, and…”
Ei watches as Miko pauses, the corners of her eyes turning red, and she swallows the tears that threaten to rise to the surface. She takes a long breath as she looks away, and then another.
“Four years ago, after I lost them to that freak accident, I…” Miko says, her voice barely above a whisper, “I just couldn’t find it in me to play again.”
The grief in Miko’s shaky voice is heartbreaking.
Ei doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t ask about the accident, but the president doesn’t meet her gaze anyway; instead, she’s looking down at her hands that are clasped together tightly in her lap.
She doesn’t know if it's the right thing to do, but fear is the last thing on her mind when she reaches out, placing a hand on Miko’s.
“I’m sorry,” Ei whispers, and when Miko’s hands slowly loosen their grip under hers, she slides her fingers underneath Miko’s and brushes a comforting thumb across her knuckles. “...I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you.”
Miko is silent for a long time.
Ei watches as the president wrestles with the enormity of her emotions, with the enormity of her grief; and while her lips do not speak a word, her expression says it all, and all Raiden Ei wants to do is to pull this stranger close and envelop her into a hug.
Then she feels a weak squeeze of her hand where the president’s fingers were wrapped around her own, and Miko looks back up at Ei again, warmth radiating through her gaze. Despite the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes, a soft laugh escapes from Miko’s lips when their eyes meet.
“...Pfft. I’m okay now,” Miko insists softly, gazing endearingly at her robot as she brushes her fingers across the Shogun’s cheek, reaching across to cup her face, “...so you don’t have to look so sad. I’m doing so much better these days. I’m sure, given a few more tries… I’ll be able to pick up the piano again, too.”
Ei doesn’t understand how the president could still hold such hopeful optimism in her gaze.
She was far too young back then to properly feel the loss of her parents, but if she were to lose Makoto right now, Ei isn’t sure she’d be able to keep functioning at all — much less to smile at someone else, like the president is doing right now.
Just the thought itself is mortifying, paralyzing, even; and Ei is sure she would lock herself away for good in mourning, and grieve the memory of her sister for as long as she kept breathing.
And if the world kept turning after that, Ei isn't sure she could forgive the world for moving on.
“...How do you deal with the grief so well?”
Ei asks, and Miko just smiles, giving her a small shrug.
“Who says I do?” She replies, and for a second unobstructed, Ei sees the deep sorrow hidden behind those amethyst eyes.
“You know… The morning after I lost them, I was mad, too. I was angry that it seemed like everyone just went on about with their lives, as if mine hadn’t just stopped in time. The sun kept rising. The birds continued to sing. The buses kept on running, and the telephones continued ringing. Nothing stopped. The world kept on spinning, despite my unforgivings, despite all my efforts to keep time still.”
Slender fingers gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind Ei’s ear, and Ei cannot tear her gaze away from the president’s even if she tried.
“But even if I stood still, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to stop the world from turning, and it wasn’t going to bring them back,” Miko says, a resigned smile on her lips.
“And that’s just it. Life goes on, no matter what you do. So you wake up and focus on getting through just one day. You make coffee enough for just one. You learn to make yourself their favorite dishes. You cry while doing the dishes. You go to sleep, and you focus on getting through the next one. You tell yourself you’re not going to forget the sound of their laughter, but you avoid looking at the grand piano in the corner. You wake up and do the same thing. You do whatever it takes to keep their memory alive, and you take up the reins of a company you’re unprepared for, and hope to the archons you wouldn’t lose everything they worked for.”
Miko holds Ei’s gaze.
“You asked me how I deal with this grief… and the truth is, I don’t — because this grief is all I have left of them, and I’m going to cherish it in all of its entirety,” Miko says with a raspy whisper, “…After all, what is grief, if not love persevering?”
The president’s eyes are puffy and her nose is tinged red. Her lips quiver when she speaks, but despite it all, Miko has never looked more beautiful in Ei’s eyes.
She is in marvel with the way Miko sees the world, the way she processes her grief, and the depth of her feelings. She had seen it the first time they met – all in the president’s captivating amethyst eyes – and for these fleeting moments, when Miko has let her in, it feels like Ei’s own heart has begun beating the same rhythm in which Miko speaks.
In all of thirty years, this is the first time Ei has felt this way about someone else.
“...It’s funny,” Miko starts, studying Ei curiously, and it is only then when Ei realizes she’s forgotten to speak. “You know, the way you look at me like that.”
“...Like what?”
Miko’s gaze softens.
“Like you’re falling in love with me.”
Ei startles, her hand flying up to cover her own expression when Miko lets out a lighthearted laugh, and it isn’t until seconds later when Ei realizes Miko is just teasing.
“Come on,” Miko says as she rises to her feet, offering a hand to the Shogun who is still on the floor. “I’ve said all too much already. Let’s get you some rest, hm?”
There is more Ei wants to say, more she feels like she could have said; but Ei holds her tongue when she remembers who she is and who she’s supposed to be.
“...Okay,” Ei says, and the president smiles at her. It seems like a genuine smile, so Ei takes her hand, getting up after Miko. “But where are you taking me?”
“To my room, so I can keep an eye on you,” Miko says, and when Ei halts in her footsteps, the president smiles like she’s expected it and keeps tugging her along.
“Well, the guest room’s certainly open, but someone refuses to step inside… and honestly, I can’t say I blame her. I mean, what a novel concept, isn’t it? A room where guests stay! I mean, my gosh, what would we even do with the couches in our living rooms after—?”
“Alright, I get it, jeez…” Miko’s sarcastic drawl certainly isn’t lost on Ei, and the robot pretends to grumble under her breath, hiding the upturned corners of her lips.
The President leads her across the living room and into the second door on the right. The lights are off when they enter, leaving the moonlight to be the only source of illumination for the room, but Miko navigates the room with familiar ease.
She leads them past closets and bookshelves and straight to the king-sized bed, where she guides Ei to sit down before giving her a quick pat on the head.
“Now, be obedient and rest up here. I still have some work to do...”
“Wait,” Ei gets up after her and grabs her hand. “You’re still going to work? At this hour?”
“Unfortunately…” Miko glances at something behind Ei— a clock, she presumes, “Yes. There’s no such thing as rest when you have thousands counting on you for their livelihoods…”
She gently slips her hand out of Ei’s, but not before giving it a small squeeze. “I’ll be outside if you need anything — though, well, I’m no technician, so I’m not quite sure how much help I’d be…”
Ei watches as Miko takes her leave, murmuring under her breath to remind herself to learn some things about robot maintenance when she suddenly stumbles, and Ei, alert still, quickly catches her by the waist with her good arm.
“...Oh,” Miko says, and Ei notes the way her response seems a little slower, like she hadn’t quite come around yet. “...Dear me. Thank you, Shogun.”
The President tries to leave again, but Ei frowns, holding her still. “You’ve had a long day. Please rest in your bed, Miss Yae.”
“...I’m fine, Shogun. You worry too much.”
“I worry just enough. Don’t you think you’re overworking yourself?”
A small, resigned chuckle escapes Miko’s lips.
“Even if that were the case…” She says quietly, holding the arm encircled around her waist with both hands, “It’s all I have left of them, you know? This company of theirs… it means everything to me. It’s only been four years since I took over — I’ve still got much to learn and so much to do before I can even begin to take a step back.”
Ei can’t argue with that.
“...I understand, but you don’t look well. You can always resume work tomorrow.”
“But that would put tomorrow’s work on a backlog,” Miko gently pries Ei’s arm away as she moves towards the door. “Trust me, no one hates being a workaholic more than I do…”
The words are leaving Miko’s lips, but Ei is hardly listening. She’s been observing the President, noticing how Miko seems much more fatigued now than the first day they met.
Her speech is slightly slowed and she is blinking more than usual. Her eyes are puffy from the tears and dark with exhaustion, and it surely isn’t just from their talk earlier…
Ei knows one thing is certain.
The President needs rest — now — and Ei panics a little when she sees Miko near the door, trying to leave…
In her hurried attempt to stop her, Ei circles her good arm around Miko’s waist, and lifts her off the ground.
A very awkward silence ensues when the president falls silent, looking at the arm around her waist, and then at her feet that are dangling off the ground.
Ei, too, somehow is at a loss for words while holding the president. She only thought of stopping the president before she left the room, not what she would do after she stopped her.
“Listen. I know you’ve got that robotic strength and all, but…” Miko starts, “It’s almost insulting, the way you picked me off the ground like… a sack of potatoes. And with a single arm, too.”
Ei is sheepish when she responds. “...Sorry. I would have used two hands, but I couldn’t exactly bend my other elbow, so…”
“So you’re saying this humiliation is of my own doing, then?”
“Well… I’m not not saying that—”
Miko flails wildly in Ei’s hold, but Ei is as steady as a rock, barely affected as she looks on in bewilderment at the sudden movement.
Miko gives up as quickly as she started.
“Okay. Forget you saw that. Are you gonna let me down?” Miko asks, the reddening of her ears giving away her embarrassment.
Ei chuckles. “Are you gonna keep struggling?”
Miko goes limp in her arm. “Are you satisfied now?”
Ei covers her mouth with the other bandaged arm, suppressing a laugh. “Pretty satisfied, yeah.”
Ei looks around the room. There’s nothing quite here to convince the president to take a rest, except for the huge bed glaring at her in the face. But there’s also nothing to keep the president in it, unless…
With large strides, she carries the president over to the bed. She rests her left shoulder against the mattress, still holding onto Miko when she rolls into the mattress on her side, such that her back is now flush against the bed.
The President’s landing is soft as well, her head now resting against Ei’s shoulder as her hands naturally come to a rest on Ei as if they’ve been cuddling for ages now.
“Pffft. So this is your big plan? To sleep together?”
Ei raises her free shoulder in an embarrassed half-shrug. “You didn’t exactly give me time to think, you know.”
She holds her breath when she feels Miko’s frame begin to relax into hers, and instinctively, Ei wraps her closer still, resting her chin against the president’s forehead. She can smell the cloying scent of Miko’s hair mixed with the faint scent of the champagne she’s had earlier.
Ei wonders when was the last time she held someone close like this.
“You have no intentions of letting me go tonight, do you?” Miko shifts a little as she laughs, and her hair brushes against the side of Ei’s jaw, tickling her.
Ei tries not to think about the warmth flooding her chest.
“Not at all.”
“And what if I told you it was a command from your owner?”
“Then I’d have to respectfully refuse. It goes against internal protocols to let go of you in this situation.”
Intrigued, Miko tilts her head upwards, resting her chin against Ei’s shoulder. “And what protocol is that?”
The President’s curious gaze causes blood to rush to Ei’s face, and she has trouble even looking down to meet Miko’s gaze. “...When she doesn’t take care of her own well-being.”
Ei swears she’ll throw herself off a bridge if the president ever brings up the loud, audible pounding of her heart.
But Miko doesn’t bring it up, doesn’t quite say a word after hearing Ei’s candid answer. The robot quickly notices her silence and takes a small peek at the woman in her arms. Pink curls obscure most of Miko’s expression, but Ei can tell that she’s in silent contemplation, and she wonders if she should ask what’s on her mind.
But then the president shifts again, nestling further into Ei’s embrace, and soon, Miko’s head is resting snugly in the crook of her shoulder, her breaths warm and rhythmic against Ei’s skin.
Save for the incessant thumping in her ears, the world is quiet now, serene; tranquil.
Everything is calm and everything is okay.
The tension in Ei’s body begins to melt away with Miko’s every quiet breath.
The president is small against her own frame, but she is immensely warm; much like the rays of a morning sun breaking through a frost-covered window. Quietly, chasing the warmth, Ei closes her eyes, memorizing the warmth where their skin meets, bringing her cheek to a rest against the crown of Miko’s head.
It’s a while longer before Miko breaks the companionable silence with a question.
“Can I ask you something?”
“...Of course. What is it?”
“Earlier… back at the gala… you played the violin beautifully. I didn’t know you— no, I didn’t know RR’s robots were capable of something like that, too.”
Ei pauses, considering her words. “It… is a skill that is still in development. Depending on the training data available and its future usage and or possible applications, this may be removed in future updates.”
“Hmm. Does this mean you are able to play the piano, too?”
“...No. The data I was trained with included many renowned musicians across decades, but mostly that of violinists, which is why I am only able to play the violin.”
“Oh… I see,” Miko lets out a quiet hum of acknowledgement, and Ei can't help herself but ask.
“...Why? Do you need me to?”
Miko shakes her head.
“No. I was just… wondering, that’s all. That song I played earlier… It’s not a widely known piece. Truthfully, I wasn’t aware that there were others who knew it too, so I was a little surprised when you started playing with me.”
Ei has heard it a few times when she was younger, but she can’t exactly recall those times with perfect memory.
“That song… was it important to you?”
There’s a pause, and Ei’s eyes flit down to look at Miko’s face.
Miko’s bangs do little to hide the melancholic expression on her face; one that Ei has only seen once earlier, and one she can only see now through dim lighting and slightly fluttering lashes as Miko looks to the distance, sifting through fond, old memories…
“...Yes, it is,” Miko finally says when she finds her way back from her bittersweet memories, pensive amethyst eyes shimmering as they catch the soft glow of the moonlight, “It’s a song my mother made with her best friend back when she was still in college. …It was always her favourite.”
That look on Miko’s face is all that’s enough to bring that dull ache back to Ei’s chest.
Raiden Ei will blame it on the time.
It is late at night, or so she argues, so late she can’t think straight; or she’ll blame the circumstances and her surroundings — she’s been up all day, running around and tiring herself out; or archons, something, anything about the dim lighting that made it so hard to see so Ei did what she’ll do next.
Either way, Ei will blame it on everything but the feelings arising in her chest when tears well up in those amethyst eyes again, and she’ll blame it for being the reason why Ei forgets herself when she dips her head and kisses the president’s tears away.
Her kiss is chaste; devout almost as Ei presses her lips to Miko's eyelids — and Ei isn’t the only one taken aback at what she’s done when she eventually pulls away.
The president’s surprise is clear as day, evident on her face; her eyes wide and lips parted as she blinks slowly with surprise.
“I…”
Ei snaps back to her senses under the president’s gaze, and the alarm and dread that follows the realization of what she’s done hits her like a truck. “I’m so sorry, I…”
But Miko doesn't share the same guilt Ei feels, reaching up instead to cup Ei’s face with warm hands before she can retreat any further.
Ei tries to pull away still, flustered and wholly embarrassed until she feels the president’s fingers tugging gently at her ears, pulling her closer…
…and her eyes flutter shut when the president cranes her neck upwards, pressing her own lips against them as she returns the gesture.
Seconds feel like hours when Miko’s lips are on her skin; and the long, heartfelt kiss she leaves on Ei’s eyelids is enough for Ei to reconsider everything she has ever known about intimacy.
“You… are so… infuriating,” comes the sweet, husky whisper against Ei’s skin, and though Miko has broken the kiss, her lips linger still; and they are close enough that Ei can feel the president’s nose graze against the swell of her cheek as Miko slowly turns to meet her gaze.
“It’s infuriating— the way you don’t even realize how you make me feel so…”
…frustrated? irked?
In the faint glow of the moonlit room, Ei searches amethyst eyes for the answer that doesn't come. But where she expects to find anger or annoyance Ei is only met with an ardent, unspoken tenderness in Miko’s gaze—
And Raiden Ei decides then, that it will be okay if she never hears the continuation of that sentence.
“...Forgive me,” Ei whispers, with thinly veiled desperation in her voice; hoping her apology is all that is enough to excuse her transgression as she leans forward, closing her eyes before sealing the president’s lips with a kiss.
`
It is not the first time Ei’s kissed the president, though it is entirely as nerve-wracking as the first — and part of Ei is still holding her breath, waiting for the inevitable consequences of her rashness — wondering if and when the president would shove her away or give her that well-deserved slap.
But Miko does nothing of the sort. It takes Ei by surprise when she feels the president smile against her lips. She is kissing Miko’s smile now; but the reality of the situation doesn’t sink in until she feels the President’s gentle hands reach up to cradle both sides of her face, drawing Ei ever closer…
And then Miko is kissing her back.
Oh great heavens, the first woman who’s ever made Ei act without thinking is kissing her back.
It feels so much more than a simple kiss — warm and sweet and yet with such ardor and sensuality that it sets Ei’s skin ablaze and her mind racing. Lips that give in to the slightest pressure, molding to her mouth as if they were lips meant to kiss her and only her —
And it is so easy to get carried away, so easy to get lost in the president’s kisses that it feels even more jarring when Miko eventually breaks their kiss, looking up at her with luminous eyes that crinkle at the corners.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” She whispers against Ei’s mouth; and those soft, rosy lips of hers is all Ei can think about even as Miko continues speaking, “Although, pfft— though I suppose, if I really had to pick a bone with you, it’s that you waited far too long to kiss me, don’t you think?”
She’s right.
Ei can’t even remember why she had been holding herself back before.
“Then, I won’t make that mistake twice,” is all Ei manages to say before her lips are on Miko’s again, capturing her mouth with a kiss much more passionate and urgent than before.
Miko responds in turn, wrapping her arms around Ei’s neck as she deepens their kiss. Despite not having any alcohol at the gala, the president’s kisses are all Ei needs to feel intoxicated — dizzy and unable to think straight as she falls further and further into the snare that is Yae Miko.
Her skin is on fire where they meet; with tangled limbs and wandering hands and yet Ei still cannot quite get enough of kissing the woman who tastes of sakura blooms and sweet, sweet champagne. Her hand finds the back of Miko’s head, tilting her head backward as Ei’s kisses grow bolder, each kiss deeper and more thorough than the last…
She is completely ensnared, and god forbid, Ei would have given anything to stay under the president’s spell.
Miko’s lips part slightly and Ei slips her tongue in, running her fingers along the back of Miko’s spine. She can feel the president tremble under her touch, and it emboldens her further, slipping her hand underneath Miko’s shirt and reaching up to unbuckle the clasp of her bra with a single familiar stroke.
There is a gasp against her lips; quiet yet encouraging as Miko breaks their kiss, locking eyes with Ei. In the soft, muted glow of the room, Miko looks at Ei with a gaze so titillating it sparks a raw hunger in Ei’s tightening chest — and she kisses her again, not out of want but out of a burning need.
It feels as if the world would cave in if Raiden Ei doesn’t have this woman right now.
Her hand explores Miko’s back. Ei wonders if she imagines the electricity sparking against her fingertips as they glide along Miko’s hips, reaching up to cup the supple flesh of her breasts, fingers brushing over stiffening peaks…
Miko hitches a breath. Ei kneads Miko’s breast gently, the flesh spilling over her fingers as she kisses up along Miko’s jaw, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of her throat. The president has her eyes closed now, breathing through her mouth as she gets more aroused, tilting her head to give Ei better access.
“...Mm, Shogun…” Soft noises akin to pleasure slip from Miko’s lips and Ei groans in need, parting Miko’s legs with her own thigh. She presses up against her, against the apex of Miko’s thighs; and Ei can hear another gasp as the president's hands fall to her shoulders.
She can feel the president's arousal, the heat radiating from her core as the fingers around her shoulders tighten. “...Fuck,” Ei breathes out, unable to contain herself as she kisses Miko again.
Miko’s fingers tug at the base of her jaw as she pulls her in closer, and they shift their weights, with the president pulling Ei on top of her, keeping Ei’s knee between her thighs…
Then, just as Ei gets on top, a sharp pain shoots through her left wrist and she hisses in pain.
Miko jerks her head away, looking over at what caused this sudden reaction — and Ei realizes she’s forgotten about her sprained wrist, and trying to rest her weight on it had caused the pain.
“Shit,” Miko quickly pushes Ei back down on her back against the bed, her brows furrowed in concern as her fingers hover uselessly over Ei’s arm. “Are you okay? Does it hurt alot?”
Ei shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I… forgot about the wrist for a moment. I’ll just not use it—”
“No, no, we shouldn’t risk it.”
Miko buries her face in her hands, taking a few seconds to calm herself down. When she looks at Ei again, the heated gaze from before is gone, replaced by a more collected, calm expression. “We’re not doing anything until Kujou or someone else from RR takes a good look at that arm.”
Ei tries to hide it, but wonders if the disappointment is audible in her voice. “But…”
“No buts,” Miko insists, and to placate her robot, she presses a kiss into her forehead instead. “We can continue this another time. For now, you should get some rest, Shogun.”
Ei flushes at the unexpected kiss.
She looks at Miko. The look in the president’s eyes is adamant — and Ei has no choice but to relent, deflating against the bed. Getting the president to rest was supposed to be the main point, right?
“...Alright. I’ll rest, but what about you?”
Miko looks as though she’s about to argue again, but then Ei puts on her most resolute expression, and the president lets out a resigned chuckle, knowing she won’t win this one.
“I think I’ve had enough humiliation for one night,” Miko says with a playful smile, unravelling a little of the bandages around Ei’s bicep so Ei can now bend her arm more easily, “If you grab me again like that to stop me, I’m afraid my pride would never recover. Remind me to disable that protocol of yours, hmm?”
“Duly noted, Ms. Yae. Reminders are now disabled,” Ei quips, and Miko gives her good arm a light punch.
“Watch out before I have you permanently decommissioned at RR, Shogun.”
Ei grins, matching the amusement on Miko’s face. The president reaches over to fluff the pillows for the robot to lie back onto, and when Ei is comfortable, Miko settles herself into the Shogun’s arms.
At first, Miko seems comfortable enough, snuggling into the Shogun just like they did earlier; but after a few moments the president becomes restless, shifting and adjusting her position every few seconds. Eventually, she clears her throat and shakes her head, turning around such that Ei is now spooning her instead.
“There,” Miko says, “This way, you won’t be able to seduce me again.”
“Seduce??” The noise Ei lets out is incredulous. “Me?”
“Yes, seduce,” Miko hums, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk. “I’m aware of how crafty you are now — You kissed me so I’d stay in bed, didn’t you?”
“I…” Ei starts, but then she bites down on her lip, figuring it’d be less embarrassing this way. “Yeah. You could… say that.”
“Pfft. Knew it,” Miko turns back, pressing her back to Ei as she lies back down against Ei’s arm. “In fact, I think I’ll have to ban you from kissing me now, Shogun. You’re far too dangerous.”
Ei scoffs. “Hah. That’s rich, coming from you. You’re practically the living embodiment of seduction herself.”
“Now, now. Saying nice things won’t stop you from getting decommissioned, you know.”
They share a laugh, and Ei wraps her good arm around Miko, pulling her closer in to cuddle. “Threat detected. Executing survival protocol: hugging nearest human.”
“Pfft,” She can hear the smile in Miko’s voice as the president hugs Ei’s arm against her bosom. “I’ll allow it. But if you squeeze too tight, I’m calling tech support.”
“Isn’t Kujou already on her way?”
“...You’re right,” Miko chuckles, shaking her head gently as she allows her eyes to flutter shut. “Squeeze to your heart’s content, then…”
Ei rests her cheek against the back of Miko’s head, relishing in the warmth she holds in her arms…
But this warmth is fleeting, a foreign kind of warmth Ei is unfamiliar with; and despite the lulls of sleep, it keeps her up awake and keeps her mind racing. She detaches herself slightly, keeping still and quiet as she watches the president fall into a gentle slumber.
And Ei waits.
Twenty, thirty minutes pass — Ei’s not quite sure anymore — she waits until she’s certain the president has fallen completely asleep before she makes her move, detaching herself slowly from the president’s grasp and slipping out of the bed quietly so she doesn’t disturb her well-deserved slumber.
Gingerly, she takes a step away from the bed, freezing in place to make sure she’s not making any loud movements — and when she hears the continued soft, rhythmic cadence of Miko’s breaths, Ei lets out a long, quiet breath of relief.
The stress of possibly waking the president up makes her oddly crave a cigarette.
But she moves along in quiet resignation, knowing that a cig would give her away in a second if the president ever got close enough. She can’t have that — not until Makoto’s finished with the actual Shogun prototype, anyway.
She reaches the door, but Ei’s hand hovers over the doorknob.
For some reason unknown, Ei doesn’t turn it. Instead, she takes a few steps back and looks around the room instead. The light from the lamp on the nightstand is dim, but it is enough for Ei’s wandering gaze.
It’s the second time she’s been in this room now, although she hadn’t quite taken the time to take in her surroundings then. This time, she allows her eyes to roam around, and takes in the polite neatness of the president’s room.
It’s everything she expected from a rich person’s room — massive, neat, tidy; with a shelf full of fiction and non-fiction books alike and a walk-in closet. Her desk has a few stacks of paperwork, but they are tucked and tidied neatly, and her laptop is in the middle of the desk. A pen and a leather-bound notebook. A single painting of a piano hung on the wall, perfectly aligned with the edge of the desk.
Then there’s the king-sized bed where Miko sleeps, and a simple yet stylish armchair by the window, accompanied by a small round side table topped with a vase of fake flowers. There is a discreet door leading to an en-suite bathroom, and Ei takes a tiny peek inside to gleam the marble countertops and the walk-in shower with plush towels folded neatly on a rack.
It’s nice and comfortably luxurious, but Ei can’t seem to help but feel something strange about the room’s immaculateness.
“...Hmm.” Ei murmurs, deep in thought. Now that she thinks about it, she doesn’t remember seeing any personal effects or photos outside in the living room, either.
Her eyes rove around Miko’s desk and land on a something sticking out from underneath the stack of neat papers. She probably shouldn’t, but her legs move on their own accord, and hesitantly, Ei pulls the object out.
It’s a photo frame.
In it, a picture of Yae Miko smiling broadly in her graduation gown, posing at her graduation ceremony with two older adults — an older man with muted red hair and an older woman with familiar, amethyst eyes — her parents, Ei realizes.
In the photo, Miko is beaming happily, happier than Ei’s ever seen her…
…and a dull throb settles beneath her ribs again.
For a brief, wistful moment, Ei wonders if she’ll ever get the chance to see a smile like that on Miko’s face.
A noise causes Ei to snap out of it momentarily when she hears a noise, and she realizes it’s just Miko stirring in her sleep. Ei places the frame back where she found it, face-down underneath the stack of papers, before her gaze drifts to Miko’s sleeping visage.
Wordlessly, she walks over, pulling the covers over the president, this time really thinking to leave when she notices the empty nightstand, save for the singular lamp.
Ei contemplates for a few seconds before she leaves the room, but returns once again with a glass of water, and sets it down quietly on the nightstand for the president.
She turns to leave, this time for real, and almost makes it out of the door when she hears,
“...The couch, again?”
It is a question that startles and stumps her all at once.
Ei turns to see the president sitting up now, Miko’s gaze lingering on the cup of water on the nightstand before meeting Ei’s own.
It seems like this time around, the president isn’t asking her purely out of concern.
Unsaid words linger in the air uncomfortably between them, and when Ei doesn’t manage to get the words dislodged in her throat, Miko continues after a derisive scoff.
“...I suppose the guest room never really was the problem.”
She can see the visible hurt on Miko’s face, and Ei shakes her head.
“...It’s not like that–”
“It’s fine. Forget I said anything.” Miko interrupts, not letting her finish. She tucks herself back into bed, turning away from her robot as she draws the blankets up to her shoulders. “If you change your mind, the guest room is just down the hall, to the left. Do take care of that wrist before they have it replaced tomorrow.
“Goodnight, Shogun.” She says, and with a swift movement, the president switches off the lights.
“I…” Ei opens her mouth, wanting to clear the misunderstanding between them, but she hesitates.
Raiden Ei was never supposed to be someone who stayed.
If she was going to continue lying to her anyway, why bother explaining herself now?
So she could trick herself into thinking this was anything more than a farce? So the president would trust her enough for Ei to do what, irreparable damage if—or when—Miko finds out about her heinous lie?
“Please, I am begging you, Ei…” Makoto is shaking her head, clutching at Ei’s clothes desperately as her tears roll down stained cheeks, “Please don’t do this.”
But the sharp, metallic tang of blood in the air clings to the back of Ei’s throat like rust on steel. The air is thick and it is hard to breathe, and in between pants Ei can still feel the crimson liquid dripping off her knuckles and splattering across the cold, tiled floors.
Her hands do not stop shaking.
Ei lets out a jagged, shaky breath.
She never should have come here; never should have forgotten who she was.
Clearing the air could never be the right choice for someone as wretched as she.
So Ei bites down on her lip, hard. She says nothing more as she takes her leave, closing the door behind her for good, and leaves Miko behind in her room.
Maybe, just maybe, the distance the president placed between them was for the best.
“...Goodnight, Miss Yae.”