She pressed a kiss against the base of his throat. Soft. Not demanding anything. He made a quiet sound, low in his chest, and his arm tightened fractionally.
She had spent her whole life being certain of things. Rankings. Training schedules. The precise order of her priorities. She had been certain about Satori once too, certain in the way that only contempt allows, certain he was beneath her notice.
Then he had looked at her one morning with different eyes and that certainty had been the first thing to go.
She was still angry, sometimes, that it had gone so easily. That he had looked at her and seen the levers and pulled them and that she had, despite knowing it was happening, let him.
Except.
Except she had looked back. And what she had found was someone who was terrifying and wrong and who saw her, the real her, the ambitious calculating merciless version she kept tucked behind perfect posture and academic achievement.
He had seen it and he had smiled like he approved.
