Need and Purpose

Ryouma explained the cameras and the files on the computer that he’d found. From the very beginning, Akira had never approached her with good intentions. Midoriko felt sick to her stomach.

Maybe I should have accepted the beer, she thought. The alcohol might have softened the blow of that revelation.

“So, I can’t hide from my father since he already knows where I work and go to school,” Midoriko said bitterly. They were actively looking for her now that she slipped away.

“You can hide here. They don’t know how to get to this place.” Ryouma cocked his head to the side and lightly traced her jawline with his finger. In the dim light, his smile looked slightly sinister. “Do you understand now why I need you to stay here?”

“No,” she said bluntly, pulling his hand away from her face. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m just slightly better for you than opium. You need me around to help you, just like I’m doing right now.”

Ryouma scoffed. He flopped over and rested his head in her lap.

“Oww! Ohh! Midoriko, please! I’m in so much pain!” he whined in a playful tone. He placed her hand on his chest.

“Tch. Honestly, you…” She grumbled, but didn’t pull her hand away.

“We got the location of Itoko off the sorcerer that popped me in the jaw before he fled. Xiǎomíng and I will go get her back.”

“But what if they move her?! If the guy who told you where she was got away, don’t you think they’ll just change locations?” she urged.

“She has her necklace. I was able to talk to her a little.” Ryouma pulled out the jade magatama from under his shirt and removed it, setting it to the side. “She’s safe for now, but knows to talk to me if anything happens.”

Though it didn’t completely eliminate the anxiety that was currently twisting up her insides, it was a relief knowing they hadn’t harmed her precious Itoko. Still, she had this nagging feeling…

“What if they set up a trap for you?” Midoriko asked quietly. She gripped the fabric on his shirt as she unconsciously clenched her fists. “Please, just let me go with you.”

“Midoriko,” he said sternly. Ryouma reached a hand up and cupped her cheek. “There are so many pests trying to take you away from me. I don’t want to risk it happening again.”

She looked into his eyes that were full of longing. Midoriko held his hand against her face and swallowed dryly.

“Ryouma… What am I to you?”

“What do you want to be?” he asked, sitting up. Ryouma brought her hand to his lips and kissed each of her fingers individually.

“I want to be more than a painkiller. More than a trophy in your collection…”

Ryouma chuckled, then pulled her by the waist a little closer to him. “Then how about ‘wife’?”

“Th-that’s a little…” Midoriko’s face instantly flushed.

“Hm? Why not? You don’t like me?” He placed her hand over his shoulder.

“I…I just– Shouldn’t we take things a little slower?” she tried to avoid his intense gaze.

“Slow? I think it’s a little late for that.” Ryouma chuckled, rubbing her lower lip with his thumb. The fingers on his other hand lightly brushed against her back as he snuck them under her tank top.

“Hngh!” Midoriko arched her back at the ticklish sensation.

“Did you know that when you’re trying to hide something, you avoid eye contact?” he whispered into her ear.

“W-what…?”

“What did you leave out of your story earlier? I’m dying to know…”

Ryouma started to nibble and lick her earlobe before moving onto her neck. Alongside the sudden interrogation, Midoriko couldn’t tell if it was foreplay or a new form of torture.

“It was…ngh…the stuff too embarrassing to say!” she panted.

“Oh? Is it related to why it took you so long to reject that stalker piece of shit?” He was speaking so softly and sweetly, contrary to the venom in his words.

“Hngh! Yes!” She didn’t mean to moan her answer, but it just came out that way when he traced the outline of her clavicle with his tongue. They hadn’t been sleeping together for long, but he learned very quickly where all of her sweet spots were.

Ryouma suddenly pulled back. The way he looked at her was full of desire but tinged with annoyance.

“I was just really confused. I thought maybe if I went out with him, it might help me understand my feelings for you.” Midoriko clenched his shirt with her hands as she explained herself. It was scary for her to put herself out there like that, but he was at least owed her honesty.

“And did it?”

“Before I even saw him at the train station, I realized that I couldn’t let it keep going on. There is just so much I like about you,” she said, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Ryouma…I really like…your cooking…!”

Ryouma laughed heartily, and Midoriko felt some of the tension leave his body as he held her close.

“For someone who always asks me to be direct, you certainly have a hard time being direct yourself,” he teased. Ryouma laid Midoriko on her back and leaned over her, smiling. “But it’s okay. For you, I’m willing to wait until I’m on my deathbed to hear the words you’re having such a hard time saying.”

He kissed her passionately. The yeasty flavor of the lager beer lingered on his tongue. When he pulled away, Ryouma impatiently shed the shirt he was wearing.

Midoriko placed a hand on his chest, running the tips of her fingers over the border of his curse. She looked at it with knitted brows. It had grown slightly since the last time she’d seen him undressed—likely just in this night alone.

Ryouma hated that look, but he loved what it meant. He pulled her hand away and pinned it down next to her head. He was nearly at his limit.

“For someone who thinks I only keep you around to treat my curse, you sure do worry yourself about it a lot,” he chided.

“I just…worry about you. A lot,” she said, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

That pushed him over the edge. Maybe the reason was that before he’d met her, no one had ever expressed that level of selfless compassion toward him. This was a deep emotional bond he’d never shared with anyone other than his parents, but more importantly, he felt the same about her.

He needed her now, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Oh Midoriko, you have no idea how much the things you say drive me crazy,” Ryouma murmured, pushing her tank top up to reveal her flushed skin. He trailed kisses down her chest and stomach. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Midoriko’s breath caught in her throat. He’d made his feelings towards her clear plenty of times, but it was the first time he’d said that specific phrase. Suddenly, even his light touch felt ten times more intense.

“I’ll tell you a thousand times if that’s what it takes for you to understand my feelings.” In one swift motion, he removed the rest of Midoriko’s clothes, leaving her body completely exposed to him. His eyes were full of intense desire. “Just promise me, you’ll stay with me.”

“I promise…” she whispered before their lips crashed together once more.

As they made love, Ryouma repeated those three words, ‘I love you,’ over and over again. A certain gentleness was mixed in with the usual fervor he exhibited in bed, as if he were trying to savor the moment.

***

Ryouma sat there, watching Midoriko sleep after he’d thoroughly exhausted her. He wanted to sleep too, but couldn’t delay the rescue operation any longer. The carnal act was impulsive—born out of his own frustrations and desires—but he hoped that it helped ease her anxiety at least.

He looked down at his cursed hand, opening and closing it. Ryouma was glad for the recharge, knowing he was likely about to worsen the condition all over again. He thought about her anxious words once more and smiled bitterly. Two things can be true at once.

She was with him because of her ability. But she was also someone he cherished and loved deeply.

Ryouma brushed a stray hair out of her face when he heard the quiet footsteps of Xiaoming approach and stop right outside the door.

“What is it?” Ryouma asked quietly, so as not to wake Midoriko.

“I’ve finished my preparations,” Xiaoming responded in a low voice.

“And?”

“The outlook of the I-ching…was not good.”

Ryouma listened to Xiaoming as he dressed. Before every heist or job, the young Daoshi would consult with the I-ching to determine the outcome. The reading would always influence whether Ryouma should proceed or yield.

“There was a low probability for success,” continued Xiaoming. Ryouma picked up the magatama off the floor next to the futon and put it around his neck. “I tried posing several different questions. They all showed a low probability except one, which had the results with the highest probability.”

Ryouma quietly slid open the door to the hallway and closed it behind himself as he left Midoriko’s room. “What was the question you asked to get that outcome?”

“I asked if someone was going to die,” Xiaoming said with a downcast expression.

Ryouma muttered a curse under his breath and glanced toward the room he just left. He motioned for Xiaoming to follow him as he proceeded down the hallway away from the room.

“Itoko. Do you hear me?” He held the jade magatama up to his mouth as he spoke. After a moment of silence, he repeated himself.

No response.

“...You don’t think she…?” Xiaoming asked, clutching Ryouma’s sleeve.

“No… No, she might just be asleep,” Ryouma said, trying to reassure himself as well. He placed a hand on Xiaoming’s shoulder. “I want you to do another reading. Only this time, factor Midoriko into your questions.”

“But I thought you–”

“I just want to know if she affects the outcome. That’s all,” he insisted.

Xiaoming nodded. Whether it was out of compliance or understanding, Ryouma couldn’t tell, nor did it matter. They walked in silence to the room where Xiaoming had set up the tools for the reading before. The yarrow stalks and coins were still laid out.

Ryouma watched as the young Daoshi meticulously worked through each question and probability with bated breath. Every affirmation of success with Midoriko’s involvement was like a knife twisting in his belly.

Part of him hoped that the outcomes would be the same, if not worse, with her factored in just so he’d continue having an excuse to keep her out of it. But they’d done this enough times that he trusted the process and trusted the results.

As he interpreted the results of the final reading, Xiaoming rubbed his chin and furrowed his brows.

“The probability of death remains the same,” he announced.

“What is it exactly?” Ryouma asked, rubbing his right arm.

“It’s about fifty-fifty.”

“For who?”

Xiaoming closed his eyes and exhaled. He sat for a moment, fidgeting with one of the yarrow sticks before opening his mouth once more.

“For you, Master Ryouma.”