Less than ten minutes later, Mika appeared. She walked with a swift stride that cut through the twilight.
Mafuyu looked at Makoto, her face pale but determined. "You should handle this with Mika-chan. I'll go back to the ryokan. I'll tell Yuna-chan and Ayane-chan that you two went for a walk to look at the night view."
Mika gave Mafuyu a sharp, grateful nod. "Thanks, Mafuyu-nee. We will handle this. Help me keep the others busy." There was an unspoken understanding between them.
Mafuyu squeezed Makoto's hand one last time and hurried away, disappearing into the night.
Mika turned to Makoto, her pink eyes burning with a dangerous light. "Lead the way, darling. Let's see if that was my mother, and what she is up to."
"I mean… I saw her gaze back at the shrine, but I'm not sure if she's your mother or not, Mika. Could be someone who looks alike, too," Makoto said in a soft voice as they slowly trailed the couple into a classical jazz cafe.
Mika shook her head, her eyes never leaving the couple as they entered the cafe. "No," she said, her voice a low, dangerous hum. "That's her. The posture and the way she holds her chin… that's the woman who taught me how to walk. The man in the mask is the new part. I have never seen him before."
She pulled Makoto towards the cafe's entrance. "We're going in to confirm."
The inside was dark and hushed, filled with the smell of leather, old wood, and expensive perfume. A melancholic saxophone played softly from hidden speakers. The host gave them a curious look, but Mika's icy glare was enough to make him find them a secluded booth in the back, tucked away behind a large potted fern.
From there, they had an obscured view of the couple, who were sitting at a small, intimate table in the corner. The woman had her back to them. The man was facing their direction, but his face was completely hidden by the mask and sunglasses.
Mika slid into the booth, her movements fluid and silent. "Just listen," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music.
Makoto slid in beside her and strained to hear. The jazz music, the clinking of ice in glasses, it all threatened to drown them out. But then, he caught fragments of their conversation. The woman's voice was low, commanding, and sharp.
"…can't keep taking these risks," she was saying. "If your wife ever found out…"
"My wife doesn't need to know," the man's voice replied, muffled by the mask but deep and confident. "This is what keeps me sane. You're so much better than…"
"Hush," the woman cut him off. "Don't be foolish, darling. We enjoy this, and that's all. The arrangement is perfect. Don't ruin it by getting sentimental."
"It's just… being with you, in secret… it's such a thrill. Better than my boring life at home."
"That's the point, dear. Now, drink your scotch. We have an hour before we need to be responsible again."
Makoto felt a chill run down his back. It was exactly what it sounded like: An affair between Mika's mother and some masked man.
Mika leaned in closer to him, her lips brushing his ear. "You see?" Her voice was trembling with rage. Years of repressed resentment bled through every word. "For years, she's lectured me about propriety, about not bringing shame to the family name. All while she's been doing this?"
Mika's knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the table. She took out her phone and hit the record button, the tiny red light blinking in the dim light. She held the phone under the table. "I will record every single word they say. This is my ticket to freedom. This is the leverage I need to get her off my back, off our backs."
Makoto was bewildered to see another side of Mika that he had never known existed. "Fine, but first, take a deep breath, you're going to rip off the table." He let out a sigh, grasping her hand. "And I will be with you through all this."
His hand closing over hers seemed to douse some of the fire. Mika didn't flinch, but her white-knuckled grip on the table edge relaxed slightly. She turned her head slowly to look at him, her brown-pink eyes still burning, but now with something else underneath the fury.
She squeezed Makoto's hand back, hard. "I know," she whispered, her voice cracking before she regained control. "Of course you are with me. You're in this too, darling, whether you like it or not."
Her gaze softened, her mask of cold calculation slipping for a fleeting moment, revealing the terrified girl beneath. "She's made my life a living hell for years, trying to control every single aspect of who I am. Every time I did something she didn't approve of, she'd bring up shame and reputation."
She looked back at the couple, her eyes narrowing. "My entire life, she's been my judge," she murmured, her voice low and filled with a pain he'd never heard before. "Every grade, every lesson, every step… it was never good enough."
"She demanded perfection: The Saionji name cannot be tarnished. A Saionji daughter must be flawless. That was her mantra." Mika's eyes hardened again, and she turned her focus back to the couple in the corner. The red light on her phone continued to blink
"And now… I have her." A dangerous smile spread across Mika's lips. "I finally have the one thing that can make her let me go." She leaned her head against Makoto's shoulder for a brief moment. "Just hold me and don't let go, please," she whispered, her voice so soft he could barely hear it over the saxophone.
Ten minutes later, the couple stood up and left the cafe, walking briskly down the street. Mika waited a beat, then grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the booth. "We're going to follow them. I want to see where this secret arrangement takes place. I want to see their nest."
She looked at him, her eyes burning with a new, terrifying purpose. "And then I'm going to burn it to the ground." She let go of his hand only to pay the bill with a few crisp bills, her movements quick and efficient. "Let's go, darling. The real show is about to begin."
Makoto stayed silent on the way as they followed them, not daring to say anything as he noticed the cold fire in Mika's eyes.
They didn't need to speak. The tension between them was heavy and charged. He walked a few paces behind her, her hand gripping his hard enough to hurt, her stride long and purposeful. The Mika he knew, the cool girl who planned dates and managed their chaotic family, was gone. In her place was someone he barely recognized.
The couple didn't look back. They moved with the confidence of people who believed they were untraceable. They led Mika and Makoto away from the tourist-friendly main street and into a quieter, more shadowy district. The bright lights of souvenir shops gave way to the neon glow of bars and the discreet, anonymous entrances of love hotels.
They stopped in front of a particularly sleek, modern establishment called Hotel Paradiso. The couple entered and disappeared behind automatic glass doors.
Mika stopped, pulling Makoto into the shadows of an alley across the street. For a moment, she just stared at the building, her chest rising and falling with each controlled breath. A muscle in her jaw ticked. "A love hotel," she said, her voice flat and devoid of all emotion. "Of course. So cliché, so shameful."
She looked at him, and the cold fire in her eyes was so intense it almost burned. "I'm going in." She pulled out her phone, her thumb flying across the screen. "We're getting the room right next to theirs." She grabbed Makoto's hand and marched him across the street, her fear replaced by a terrifying certainty.
Inside, the lobby was clean, anonymous, and bathed in a soft pink glow. A touch-screen panel displayed available rooms. The couple was already gone, of course.
Mika scrolled through the options, her eyes scanning the layout. Her finger stabbed the screen. "Room 506 is taken," she muttered. "It must be their room. We'll take 508." She paid with a tap of her phone, the machine dispensing two key cards. She didn't say a word as she led Makoto to the elevator, up to the fifth floor, and down a quiet, carpeted hallway.
Mika stopped in front of room 508 and swiped the key, the light turning green with a soft beep. She pushed the door open and pulled him inside, closing it silently behind them.
The room was surprisingly clean and spacious, with a large, round bed and a big window overlooking the city. But Makoto didn't notice the decor. All his attention was on the wall they shared with room 506.
Mika put her finger to her lips, her eyes wide and listening. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, they heard it. The soft click of a belt unbuckling, followed by a woman's low, throaty laugh. And then, the wet, rhythmic sounds of flesh hitting flesh, and a man's muffled groan.
"Harder, Mistress," the man's voice pleaded through the wall, thick with a desire that made Makoto's skin crawl. "Please… punish me…"
Mika's face went blank with shock, her mouth slightly agape. The cold fury in her eyes was quickly replaced by something dark and disturbingly familiar. It was the same possessive, predatory look she got when she was watching Makoto with the other girls, amplified to a degree he'd never seen before.
She looked at Makoto, her pupils blown wide with disgust and a thrilling arousal she couldn't quite separate from the anger. "Listen to her," Mika whispered, her voice a ragged, trembling breath.
She took a step closer to Makoto, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt. "Listen to what a hypocrite my mother is, darling."