Fate Falling Fast, Faceted Familiarizations

[Tsuchimikado Shizue]

In the heart of Kumogakure's Susukino District, where neon lights painted the night in dazzling hues and the air pulsed with energy, Tsuchimikado Shizue stood before her mirror, meticulously preparing for an evening at The Lux. She had spent the night in one of the hotels just down the street from where the prestigious establishment crouched. Her deep purple mini dress, chosen for its sleek elegance, clung gracefully to her lithe frame, accentuating the toned musculature she had honed over years of relentless training, not that it did any good, as a Genin only in title. She made more money doing business deals for her father in a week than her entire Genin career combined.

The fabric of her dress shimmered subtly under the glow of her vanity lights, catching and reflecting just enough light to command attention without seeming ostentatious. With deliberate movements, she fastened gold earrings that dangled just past her jawline, their glint catching the mirrored glow of the cityscape beyond her window. They complemented her iridescent eyes—those ever-shifting pools of color that revealed the shifting tides of her emotions and the ambiance of her surroundings.

The necklace that she chose was a small diamond, only three karats, hanging delicately on her sternum, glinting and casting the fire of the stone as it caught the lights of the vanity mirror. Shadows flickered and hid from her ensemble as she looked at herself in the mirror, losing herself in the minutiae of trying to become perfect, blending her makeup and fixing the lines of her penciled lips and eyeliner one more time.
She reached for the gold sequined clutch resting on the vanity, the textured surface cool beneath her fingers. Within its confines, she had neatly arranged the essentials: a compact mirror, a crimson lipstick that would withstand the night’s revelry, a discreet kunai hidden in a silk-lined compartment, and a folded note containing directions should she find herself needing an escape route. Shizue was always prepared, a habit ingrained in her since childhood. It was second nature to anticipate the unknown, to leave nothing to chance. Even a night of leisure could shift unexpectedly. She was a rich girl, and having a backup plan was always something that she needed, even if it wasn’t used.

Her gaze flitted to the red strappy heels waiting beside her. They were higher than her usual preference, but tonight, she welcomed the challenge. There was a power in height, in the click of heels against polished floors, in the way they changed one’s posture and presence. She slid them on with practiced ease, fastening each buckle with precision before rising to her full height. She studied her reflection, ensuring every detail was immaculate—the sweep of her eyeliner, the gloss of her lips, the effortless cascade of her ruddy hair styled in loose, intentional waves. She looked at the lines that her body made, supple, tight, the epitome of youth and sensual grace. Satisfied, she turned away, stepping into the electric night.

The Lux was a beacon in the Susukino District, a place where the elite gathered, where deals were whispered over crystal tumblers, and where ambition wove itself into the fabric of the club’s very existence. Inspired by the famed Kumogakure nightclub owned by Kitsune, the Raikage, this establishment had quickly cemented itself as a centerpiece of the district. Its exclusivity was its greatest allure; to be seen at The Lux was to be relevant, to be counted among those who mattered.

Shizue approached the entrance, her confidence unwavering as she bypassed the queue that stretched along the velvet ropes. The doorman, clad in a sharply tailored suit, inclined his head in recognition. She met his gaze with an easy, knowing smile—familiarity bred from prior visits from her family. He stepped aside, allowing her entry without a word.

More than a couple of people standing in line muttered darkly at her bypassing the line. Her iridescent rainbow eyes dripped privilege as she swept them over in a half-second as she entered the club, her eyelids half-closed in the look that her father taught her. She knew that she came from money, and might as well enjoy the privileges that came from such money once in a while. It had been a half year since she treated herself like this.

Beyond the threshold, the atmosphere embraced her in a symphony of sound and sensation. The pulse of the music was tangible, a deep, resonant beat that vibrated through the air, threading itself into the very marrow of those within. It thrummed in her blood, her heart speeding up to a double-tempo of the thumping bass that cascaded into her, and hummed in the taut fabric of the hem of her mini-dress. Overhead, lights cascaded in shifting patterns, a kaleidoscope of color that bathed the dance floor in ever-changing hues.

As she stepped inside, the scent of perfume, expensive cologne, and expensive alcohol permeated the air, mingling with the warmth of bodies pressed close in intimate conversation. The bar stretched along the far wall, illuminated by a golden backlight that made the rows of high-end liquor shimmer like liquid jewels. Bartenders moved with deft precision, pouring, shaking, and stirring, crafting elixirs for the city’s most influential. Beyond the bar, secluded alcoves and private booths housed the power players of Kumogakure—business moguls, brokers, and high-ranking shinobi engaged in hushed discussions that could change the course of fortunes with a single deal.

Shizue navigated the space with effortless grace, her movements fluid as she wove through the throng of patrons. The club was alive with murmured conversations and bursts of laughter, with the clink of glasses and the occasional exclamation of recognition as socialites greeted one another. Yet, for all the energy, there was an undercurrent of something deeper—an unspoken competition, a hunger for power that lurked beneath the veneer of celebration. The Lux was more than a club; it was an arena, and every player present knew their role.

Reaching the dance floor, she allowed herself a moment to absorb the rhythm before surrendering to it entirely. The music pulsed through her veins, syncing with the beat of her heart as she moved with effortless precision. Every step, every sway of her hips, every turn was deliberate yet unrestrained, a paradox of control and abandon. The heat of the crowd surrounded her, bodies moving in tandem, each lost in their own world of sensation. Shizue relished the moment, the fleeting liberation of dance, the way it momentarily stripped away the weight of expectations. Bodies brushed against her lightly, a hand here, a thigh there, a hip thrown into the mix that brushed against her own. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the salty scent of bodies in motion, of fabric damp from exertion.

As she lost herself in the rhythm, she became aware of the way others watched her. Some admired, others calculated. A few men nearby exchanged whispers, their eyes lingering longer than polite interest dictated. A woman dressed in a sleek black gown, adorned with diamond cuffs, raised a glass in silent acknowledgment from a nearby balcony, raising an eyebrow in predatory interest. Shizue recognized her—an influential broker known for making connections that could either elevate or destroy reputations. The silent exchange was brief but laden with meaning, an unspoken acknowledgment that she was being observed, assessed.
Time became an abstract concept, measured only by the shifting tempo of the songs, as she moved like liquid sensuality on the dance floor. She melted into the dances, the songs, the thrum and hum of the music. It wasn’t until a subtle misstep—a rare falter in her usually impeccable balance—that she was abruptly pulled from her trance. A shift in the crowd, an unexpected push by a rough pair of hands, and suddenly she was off-kilter. The momentum sent her off course, propelling her towards the edge of the dance floor. Before she could fully right herself, she stumbled into the shadowed recess of a private booth, the plush seating cushioning her unceremonious landing.

She blinked at the sudden dark, a stark contrast to the electric lights and harsh lasers of the club before. She turned to apologize to the people in the booth, because obviously at this time of night, on a night like this, it had to be occupied right? "I am sorry, I just fell into your booth. I didn't mean to, I suppose I am not used to dancing so long in these heels."

 

[Shinrya Kitsune]

Kitsune was bored. That was just how things were currently. She never did enjoy going clubbing, yet she owned an upscale nightclub. Currently she was just lounging in a booth, lying across the semi-circular couch with an assortment of bottles in varying states of depletion on the table in front of her.

In her hand was a glass, just over half filled with a deliciously fruity cocktail of some kind. She'd been idly sipping on it for the past 10 minutes, enjoying the tropical taste of the fruits used, even if the alcohol itself didn't affect her anymore. After her last wild adventure, where she fell into a pool of blood, and subsequently had all the blood in her body replaced with dragon blood, causing a lot of changes. Like her pointy ears. Her more pointed canines, or as she liked to call them: Her fangs. Oh, and her ability to manifest draconic traits like wings, claws, and even a full transformation. Though that was still a secret within Cloud itself. Only Rei, who was present for it, knew that Kitsune had swapped her powerset for a new one.

Today however, or tonight rather, Kitsune found herself alone in the club she won in a game of chance, bored out of her skull, trying to chase away that lingering feeling of melancholy by drinking, and watching people dance their worries away. Only, even that wasn't to last, as someone stumbled into the booth. Kitsune looked up at the scantily dressed young woman as she apologized and explained the reason for her sudden entrance into the booth.

"Oh don't worry about that. I was just thinking that it was about time for something interesting to happen," Kitsune said, stretching on the plush couch before sitting up, adjusting her suit a little so it sat better on her body, "Luckily for you, my booth has plenty room for falling into. I'm Kitsune, I own the place. Nice to meet you, Miss...?" she inquired, fishing for a name to put to the face.

[MFT; WC: 342]

 

[Tsuchimikado Shizue]

Shizue took a measured breath, the residual heat of the dance floor still clinging to her skin as she straightened in the booth. The shift from the electric hum of the club to the hushed intimacy of the private seating was jarring, but she recovered quickly. Her iridescent eyes flicked over the woman before her—lounging with an effortless sort of authority, suit sharp, demeanor sharper. The name Kitsune wasn’t unfamiliar, but it wasn’t one she’d expected to hear tonight.
Shizue offered a small, knowing smile, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face as she adjusted the thin strap of her dress back into place. “Tsuchimikado. Tsuchimikado, Shizue,” she answered smoothly, the syllables rolling off her tongue with practiced ease. “It’s a pleasure, Kitsune.” She had experience with regaining composure after losing it in business meetings. After all, her father wouldn’t tolerate mediocrity in that sort of situation.
She let the name linger between them for a moment, testing its weight. Owner of the club, dressed like she belonged to something bigger than just nightlife. There was an edge to her presence, something coiled beneath the surface, something not quite human—though Shizue had no intention of prying. Not yet. She was also in the presence of the Raikage of Kumogakure, a presence that frightened even the most powerful members of the world. Surely there was some mistake and she had fallen into a dream before coming here.
Kitsune was a striking figure, not just because of the way the tailored suit accentuated the sleek lines of her form, but because of the energy she exuded—a controlled intensity, the kind that could turn a room silent without so much as a word. Her presence demanded attention, not in the way of someone shouting for it, but in the way the ocean demanded respect from those who dared to wade too deep. Shizue had expected someone different. A brute, perhaps. That was what her father had called her—an enforcer, someone who clawed their way up through force and fear. But that assumption felt laughably naive now.
No, Kitsune was something else entirely. A predator in silk and steel, a woman who thrived in the intersection of power and pleasure. The club was merely a stage, and she its reigning queen.
“Glad to know I made your night a little less dull.” Shizue chuckled, glancing at the half-finished drink in Kitsune’s hand before gesturing subtly towards the bottles on the table. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything too important?”
Her voice was light, playful even, but there was an undercurrent of awareness behind it. She was toeing the line between confidence and caution, testing to see how far she could push before she hit something unmovable. Kitsune was watching her, that much she could tell, but whether with amusement, curiosity, or something more elusive, Shizue couldn’t quite say. The weight of that gaze made her acutely aware of her own posture, the way her dress clung to her frame, the pulse beating just a little faster at the base of her throat.
She was expecting Kitsune to be some muscle-bound diplomat, covered in scars and grisly, barking orders from the top. Instead, she was met with something far more dangerous—a woman who wielded power with the precision of a blade, sharp enough to cut but elegant enough to make you forget you were bleeding.
The Kitsune in front of her seemed like anything ‘but’ a brute. She seemed like a woman at the height of her prime, powerful, sensual, and cunning all wrapped up and stuffed into a suit that Shizue’s salary couldn’t afford, at least not for a couple of months anyhow. An owner of a nightclub as well, Kitsune stood at the forefront of technology, power, wealth.
Shizue felt very small suddenly, her body language betraying her feelings, her arms hugged her sides, accentuating her bosom held by the tight fabric of her mini-dress. Her rainbow iridescent eyes tilting toward their blue spectrum as she dare not meet the gaze of the figure in front of her. One could only stare at the sun for so long, especially unannounced, uninvited, and Shizue assumed, unwanted.
And yet, Kitsune had not dismissed her. That, more than anything, sent a quiet thrill through her veins.
She was also cognizant of not having been told to leave either, so she waited for Kitsune to either give permission to stay or a command to leave.

 

[Shinrya Kitsune]

Kitsune thought for a bit, as the name sounded familiar. Just not in a shinobi context, but in a financial one... Ah well. She gave a mental shrug as she couldn't put her finger on it. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine." she said with a cheeky grin. She let her gaze wander across Shizue's form, taking in the sight of her rather skimpy dress, and the way it clung to her form. It was flattering for sure, and Kitsune chuckled a bit internally at the mental image of herself wearing something similar. Ah, what a scandal that'd cause. 'The ruler of Lightning Country seen wearing almost nothing in nightclub' would probably be the headline for the following days newspapers. Fortunately, she made an imposing figure in a sharply cut suit, and that suited her just fine. Pun not intended.

"I can't say that you did, Shizue-chan. On the contrary, actually. The only thing you interrupted was boredom." Kitsune said with a chuckle, "Can I get you anything to drink? A cocktail perhaps?" she offered, waving over one of her employees to take whatever order Shizue had for drinks, and snacks. It was pretty clear that Shizue was free to stay if she liked; it was in fact encouraged that she stayed.

Despite being nobility, a head of state, and leader of a super powered military, Kitsune still took the time to go out in public and meet others. It helped humanize her, and helped build bridges between classes rather than cause further divides like some past nobles had. That was also why she spent so much time inventing things that could be used by civilians as well, the biggest one being the invention of the automobile. It was a game changer for sure, and she was proud of it. And, well, of course she'd made a custom vehicle for her own usage. Sure, it also made her one of the richest, if not the richest, people in the country. Probably multiple countries to be honest.

"So tell me Shizue-chan, do you have plans for the future?" Kitsune asked, curious to learn what her plans were. Showing an interest in ones underlings was always good. And who knows, maybe Kitsune had some valuable input for the younger girl.

 

[Tsuchimikado Shizue]

Shizue lifted a brow at the -chan but let it slide, her smirk a flicker of amusement that never quite reached her lips. She settled in, legs crossing as she tilted her head in Kitsune’s direction, still gauging the woman’s energy. There was confidence, the kind that came from power—not just wealth, but influence. And she knows exactly how to use it. The offer of a drink was a clear invitation to stay, but more than that, it felt like a test.

“I’ll take a lychee martini,” she said smoothly, nodding to the waiting server. Sweet, floral, elegant—strong enough to be taken seriously, but not the kind of drink that got a person sloppy. She had no intention of losing her edge, especially not in present company.

Her iridescent eyes flicked to Kitsune’s, studying her, piecing together the details—the way she carried herself, the way she spoke with practiced ease. It was rare to meet someone so high up who didn’t immediately carry the weight of their status like a burden, or swing it around in a club-like manner. Kitsune seemed to revel in it.

The club thrummed around them, the bass reverberating through the floor and into the plush seating. The lights pulsed in slow, hypnotic waves, bathing the space in shifting hues of violet and sapphire. Servers weaved between the booths, dressed sleekly, their movements efficient and practiced. The scent of expensive perfume and top-shelf liquor hung in the air, mingling with something faintly metallic—a reminder that places like these thrived on more than just indulgence. Deals were made here. Alliances formed and broken under the cover of music and dim lighting. The metal became alloy with the underlying knowledge that some of the deals involved blood, and blood-money.

Shizue let her gaze drift briefly, noting the guarded expressions on some of the other patrons, the way their conversations dipped into hushed tones. This wasn’t just a place to drink—it was a hunting ground. Shizue wondered absently whether she was prey or predator in this steel and glass jungle.

Then came the question.

Do you have plans for the future?

Shizue let the silence stretch, a slow inhale before she answered. How much did she want to say? How much was worth revealing?

“I do,” she admitted, swirling a nonexistent drink in her hand as if she were contemplating the taste of her own words. “I want to master medical ninjutsu, more than just battlefield healing. I want to reach the kind of skill that turns death into an option rather than a certainty.” Her voice was steady, but there was a fire beneath it, controlled but undeniable. “Eventually I want it to be a gentle suggestion, rather than just an option.” She couldn’t say where the want came from. Perhaps there was something that buzzed in the back rooms of her subconscious that her mother once said to her. The flashing lights and sounds of the bass carrying through the cushions and into her thighs was too distracting to fish that thought out of the deep of her subconscious right now.

She leaned back slightly, letting her fingers trace the seam of the booth’s cushion. “That’s the goal, at least.” A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “For now, I suppose I just need to get stronger.” There was a trace of doubt in her words though. How many years had she been a genin with nothing to show for it? She was making progress, now, but was it the same prodigal leaps and bounds that her peers had made nigh on a decade ago? Was she just destined for mediocrity?

It was a simple truth, but one that tasted bitter every time she said it. The admission stung because it was raw—because it meant acknowledging where she stood now, and how far she still had to go. Shizue didn’t have any delusions about the gap that separated the woman that sat across from her and her current status. She was a genin, Kitsune was a Kage. Shizue’s money came from her family, Kitsune’s from her empire. Kitsune was -- in a sense -- a better version of Shizue in every regard. She even looked a bit younger than Shizue.

Kitsune studied her, and Shizue resisted the urge to shift under that gaze. There was something about the way the woman watched her, as though she were already weighing her worth, measuring the distance between ambition and reality. This could have been the inner workings of Shizue’s own mind, but in the shifting light and shadows, it was hard to really tell.
The drinks arrived, a delicate glass set before her, the pale liquid catching the neon glow. Shizue lifted it, taking a measured sip. Sweet, floral, with just the right bite of alcohol. She exhaled slowly, savoring the burn in her throat and the warmth that it put back into her blood, slightly chilled by the weighty iceberg of reality.

It wasn’t just about what she wanted. It was about proving she had what it took to claim it. Shizue gave a practiced easy smile to Kitsune, “What about your plans for the future. Is there anything--” She looked at the vacancy of the spot next to Kitsune, “Or anyone you have your eyes set on?” A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she took another sip of her drink to punctuate the question and allow Kitsune time to answer.

 

[Shinrya Kitsune]

She smiled at Shizue's choice of drink, and took another sip of her own. It was a tasty concoction involving coconut and pineapple. "Good choice." she said, simply, adding a light wink. Kitsune placed her drink on a coaster on the table, then stretched a little, losening up her back muscles, getting a bit more limber. And when Shizue answered the question of her plans for the future, Kitsune grinned. What serendipitous fortune for her to have fallen into Kitsunes booth of all the booths in the nightclub. "Heh. That's quite the coincidence, actually. I'm the first Raikage to come from the medical branch, and I happen to be the person that founded the field of Kumogakurean Prosthetics Engineering. Plus I used to be Medical Sennin, and the head of the surgical department." she explained with a smile.

Kitsune leaned against the backrest after having grabbed her drink again, and took another sip. "Well seeing as you're looking to get better in the medical ninjutsu area, I'm sure we could figure a mentorship situation out. Though that'd have to be tomorrow. My secretary would figuratively kill me if I dumped another bunch of paperwork on her again." she said with a chuckle, then took another sip of her drink. "But I'm sure we could figure something out, Shizue-chan" she finished, smiling softly.

Then when Shizue asked what Kitsunes plans were for the future, and if there ware anything - or anyone - she had her eyes on, that caught her off guard. She couldn't even blame it on drinking, because Shizue had only just gotten her drink, but if Kitsune didn't know any better, it sure looked like Shizue was flirting with her. Not that Kitsune was opposed to that, mind you, but it was a bit unexpected. "Well, I'm not really looking for anything in particular. I'm just trying to keep the country running smoothly, and keep my people safe. I'm not really looking for a relationship, but I'm also not opposed to the idea either." she said with a smile, then took another sip of her drink while thinking to herself *Also not opposed to a casual fling either.*. "What about you, Shizue-chan? Got your eyes on anyone?" she asked, with a playful grin.

 

[Tsuchimikado Shizue]

Shizue took a slow sip of her drink, letting the tart citrus bite and mellow honey of the lychee drink smooth out her thoughts. The warmth from earlier, that initial panic of stumbling into something way beyond her depth, had dulled into a pleasant buzz—not just from the alcohol but from the sheer absurdity of her situation. The Raikage herself, a legendary medical ninja, a literal pioneer in prosthetics, just casually offering to mentor her? If she were anyone else, she might have thought this was fate.

But no, Shizue didn’t believe in fate. Just improbable, ridiculous happenstance. Her father had taught her better than that. People made things happen for a reason. There were those rough hands before--

She set her glass down with a soft clink, tilting her head slightly, a coy smile playing at her lips. “Oh? You’re offering to take me under your wing, just like that?” Her iridescent eyes gleamed with something unreadable—part amusement, part curiosity, part challenge. “You must be a very generous woman, Kitsune-sama~”

She stretched out the honorific just enough to make it teasing, mirroring the playful energy in the Raikage’s tone. If Kitsune was the type to wink and throw around casual grins, then Shizue wasn’t above pushing the boundary a little further—so long as it kept things interesting. She moved closer to the Raikage, wondering how close she could get without being tossed bodily out of the booth. She didn’t know whether she was playing with fire or whether the fire that she saw behind Kitsune’s eyes was playing with her, but it was getting warmer in the booth all the same.

And then Kitsune turned the question back on her, with that same grin, that same air of someone entirely unbothered by where the conversation was going. Was this a test? A harmless game? Shizue didn’t mind playing along.

She leaned in slightly, resting her chin against the back of her hand, fingers idly tracing the condensation on her glass. “Oh, I could name a few people who’ve caught my eye,” she mused, letting the words linger just long enough to mean everything and nothing at once. “But let’s just say… my priorities are elsewhere at the moment.” Her gaze trailed down Kitsune’s features, to her neck, to her shoulders then back to her eyes. It was like flirting with a goddess, powerful, beautiful, able to kill her without a second thought. This woman could snap her like a twig if she wanted to, and she was above the law herself, so who would miss someone like Shizue.

The thrill ran through her, starting between Shizue’s shoulder blades and settled in the small of her back, the warmth of it making everything seem more alive, her touch more tangible than when she had began this conversation.

Her smile widened, lazy and self-assured, after a moment Shizue spoke again. “After all, I seem to have found myself in the best company already, haven’t I?” Not flattery, a statement of fact. Shizue couldn’t have stumbled upon better company if she had tried.

She lifted her drink in a small toast before taking another sip, watching Kitsune’s reaction over the rim of her glass. Whether the Raikage took it as playful banter or something more, Shizue was content to let her wonder. She set it down again, licking her lips. Whether it was out of nervousness, savoring the taste of the drink, or because she was imagining Kitsune’s lips on her own, imagining Kitsune’s hands on her body, Kitsune’s eyes staring into hers with more than just curiosity, she didn’t know.

She decided to try a bit of a bolder approach, moving her leg nonchalantly under the table, brushing against Kitsune’s leg. She could always say that she thought it was the table, that she didn’t know it was Kitsune’s leg. Perhaps the dance would end here, or perhaps these were the very first steps in a breathless, hot tango.

 

[Shinrya Kitsune]

Kitsune chuckled at being called a generous woman "I suppose I am. In many ways, even, considering I lowered my own salary as Raikage to a symbolic single yen per year." she said with a light smirk. Sure, Kitsune made her money from investments, and her various businesses. It also amused her that Shizue seemed to match her teasing energy, and frankly? That was refreshing. Whereever she went, people were always bowing and scraping, treating her like royalty, instead of a human being. She liked it.

As Shizue answered the question Kitsune had posed, she took another swig from her deliciously fruity drink. A few people eh? Well Kitsune'd just have to rock Shizue's world to change that, now wouldn't she? Oh, but what's this? Her priorities are elsewhere? Ohoo... Kitsunes lips curled upwards in a practically catlike smirk. And when Shizue then said she already was in the best company, Kitsune had to stifle a laugh. Ah, such a flatterer. But it was true though. For a driven kunoichi like Shizue, the best person she could've bumped into was indeed Kitsune.

When Shizue let her leg brush against Kitsunes, well, Kitsune decided to say "Ah, fuck it" and she leaned over to Shizue before putting an arm around the womans waist, and pulling her closer. With one swift movement, Shizue'd find herself straddling Kitsunes lap, facing the Raikage, who'd then placed her hands on Shizue's rear end because, well, gotta put them somewhere, right? Giving the plump peach a light squeeze, Kitsune then let go, only to trail her nails across Shizue's bare back, leaving short trails on the supple skin.

"Well, I can't deny that you found yourself the best company, my dear Shizue-chan." Kitsune said, chuckling lightly, still idly tracing patterns on Shizue's back with a sharp nail, "I suppose now the question is... What'll you do next, hm?" she asked, her golden gaze shifting upwards to look into Shizue's iridescent eyes, hoping to hear an answer that'd keep this fun dance going.

 

[Tsuchimikado Shizue]

Shizue barely had time to breathe before she was moved—no, seized—into Kitsune’s lap, the shift happening so smoothly, so decisively, that she felt more like a piece being placed on a game board than a woman being flirted with. Yet, there was nothing impersonal about it. The strength in Kitsune’s hands, the deliberate way she had pulled Shizue against her, the teasing squeeze followed by the soft scrape of nails against bare skin—it all sent little sparks up her spine.

Her heart thrummed wildly, not from fear, but from something sharper, something intoxicating. She had always thought herself too cautious, too measured, but this? This was reckless in a way that thrilled her, like standing on the edge of a cliff just to see how far she could lean before gravity took over. Kitsune was dangerous, and Shizue had spent her whole life avoiding danger—but right now, she wanted to see just how close she could get before she burned.

Shizue also knew that she wasn’t in any real danger, but the power that lurked beneath the surface of the Raikage ignited her blood, making her heart set to skipping, keeping up with the quick beat of the music out on the dance floor.

A slow breath escaped her lips, steadying herself against Kitsune’s shoulders. Beneath her fingers, the fine fabric of the Raikage’s outfit was cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the heat of the woman herself. Her fingers traced the collar, a light, exploratory motion, as though the texture of silk and the tension in the air were equally worth measuring. A pointless distraction, really. She wasn’t thinking about fabric. She was thinking about how Kitsune’s body fit so perfectly beneath hers, about the raw confidence in the way she took what she wanted, how she was looking at Shizue now—like a hunter savoring the moment before the pounce.

“What will I do next?” Shizue echoed, her voice smooth, practiced—but there was a heat beneath it that hadn’t been there before. Her enunciation was sharper, her fricatives popping and her nasal consonants drawn out in almost-moans. She let the question hang, tilting her head slightly as though considering her options. But she already knew. She had known the moment Kitsune pulled her in. The real question was how far she wanted to take it.

Slowly, deliberately, she shifted in Kitsune’s lap, a subtle movement that spoke volumes. She felt fabric against fabric, Kitsune’s belt trailed just under her own belly-button. Her iridescent eyes flickered with amusement, catching the golden gleam in Kitsune’s gaze—sharp, interested, hungry. Oh, this woman wasn’t playing fair at all. But then, neither was she.
She could be coy. She could feign shyness, let Kitsune do all the work. But where was the fun in that? A deer that bolted at first sight wasn’t any fun at all.
Leaning in, she let their lips almost touch, close enough that she could feel the ghost of Kitsune’s breath against her own, the warmth of it sending another thrill down her spine. Her eyes, in a half lidded stare looked into Kitsune from the haze that Kitsune’s touch had elicited in their ever-changing iridescence. Shizue wasn’t kissing her. Not yet. But she was close enough to make the anticipation unbearable.

“That depends,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper, a mutter in the relatively quiet booth. A murmur meant only for Kitsune in that moment. “Are you the kind of woman who likes to be chased…” Shizue’s lips hovered above Kitsune’s, giving them butterfly kisses, whispering against her lips in what could be called the foreplay to a kiss. Her fingers, light and teasing, trailed from the collar of Kitsune’s fitted shirt down to her throat, resting there just long enough to feel the steady pulse beneath her fingertips. A calculated risk. A silent dare.
“…or the kind who prefers to do the chasing?”

Shizue’s hand on Kitsune’s shoulder trailed down, hooking under Kitsune’s armpit to rest between her shoulderblades while her other hand trailed down to Kitsune’s sternum, steadying Shizue as she leaned back a bit, pulling back to get a better look at the Raikage on whose lap she was sitting. She raised an eyebrow, the beginnings of a smirk hiding in the corners of her mouth. She could feel Kitsune’s muscles beneath the shirt, hard as thrice forged iron.

Shizue’s mind went to a hundred different places, unbidden, filling in the gaps and running wild with the imagined feel of sheets, and the all too real scent of Kitsune sitting underneath her. Shizue rolled her hips once more, slowly, deliberately. It could have been to readjust, or a silent invitation to touch Shizue as she was touching Kitsune.

The silence stretched between them, thick with tension, charged with unspoken promises. Shizue wasn’t sure who would break first, but gods, did she love the tension.

 

[Shinrya Kitsune]

Kitsune grinned, like a shark that'd just spotted an exposed rear, and let the hand that was trailing patterns on Shizue's back slide up to the nape of her neck, and gently caress her there. When Shizue repeated what Kitsune said back to her, Kitsune chuckled and gently ran a hand through Shizue's hair. When she finally answered with a question of her own, and those tantalizingly teasing lips being so close to Kitsunes own, Kitsune couldn't keep herself from answering the question with a kiss. "Chased you, didn't I?" she asked in a low tone after shifting so her mouth was next to Shizue's right ear, and then to surprise her, Kitsune gave a light nibble on Shizue's earlobe.

She let her golden gaze glide across the woman currently straddling her lap, and grinned lightly. Oh this was going to be a fun evening. Night. Unspecified duration of time captured in the throes of passion. Probably. The things Kitsune would do to Shizue, if she were willing. Ah, but she was getting ahead of herself now, first she had to seal the figurative deal. It was funny though. Ever since the accident that replaced all the blood in Kitsunes body with dragon blood, she'd felt more... Restless, if she didn't get certain... Energy. Out of her body. Tonight was no exception.

A lot of thoughts ran through Kitsunes head and when Shizue rolled her hips, likely to be a tease, Kitsune stood up and scooped Shizue into a princess carry in one smooth motion. "You're coming with me, Shizue-chan." she stated, as if it were an immutable fact that couldn't be changed, before carrying her from the booth, across the dance floor, over to a set of locked elevators, one of which opened at Kitsunes approach. Once inside the elevator, Kitsune hit the button for the penthouse, and after a short ride, she could stride right out of the elevator, Shizue still in her arms.

In the lavishly decorated Art Deco style penthouse apartment, Kitsune strode confidently towards the bedroom, placing Shizue on the bed gently. Then, she began undoing buttons. The suit jacket. The vest. The shirt. The pants. Having tossed it all aside, Kitsune climbed into the bed...

[FTB]
[MFT; WC: 374]

 

[Tsuchimikado Shizue]

[AFTER THE FTB]

As Shizue lay nestled in the quiet aftermath, the warmth of the moment lingered around her. The night had been a whirlwind—a game of pursuit and surrender—but now, in the stillness, it felt different. Softer. More tangible. Her breathing had slowed, but beneath the calm, a quiet energy still hummed within her, like the lingering embers of a fire refusing to burn out.

She let out a quiet sigh, fingers tracing idle patterns against the sheets between her and Kitsune, her recently pronounced girlfriend. The sensation of fabric beneath her fingertips was grounding, an anchor to reality after the dizzying rush of the evening. Her thoughts were tangled, a mixture of satisfaction, curiosity, and something unspoken that she wasn’t quite ready to name.

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you?” she murmured to herself, the whisper of her own voice barely disturbing the air. A half-smirk tugged at her lips, though she wasn’t sure if it was amusement or something closer to disbelief. She didn't know whether she was asking Kitsune or herself, but something was very apparent, what had happened wasn't a half measure, or even a half of that.

She turned onto her side, staring at the space beside her. Empty now. It was strange, this feeling. Shizue was used to fleeting encounters, to moments that burned hot and fast before fading into the past. Yet something about this lingered in a way she hadn’t expected. A part of her wanted to slip away unnoticed, to move on as she always did—but another part of her hesitated, reluctant to break the fragile thread that still connected her to this moment.

Her fingers brushed absently against her collarbone, then her neck as her thoughts drifted to the promise Kitsune had made—the collar. The idea of wearing something so personal, so symbolic, should have felt foreign, even foolish. And yet, she didn’t recoil from it. She imagined the press of it against her skin, the way it would serve as an unspoken claim, a reminder that she was now... someone’s. Kitsune’s. The thought sent an unexpected warmth through her, settling deep in her chest. Was she really someone’s girlfriend now? The notion was strange, yet not unwelcome.

The faint hum of the city outside pressed against the silence, a reminder that life continued beyond these walls. Eventually, she sat up, stretching her limbs before slipping out of bed. The cool air against her skin was a stark contrast to the lingering warmth, a reminder that the night was shifting toward something new. She stood there, waiting for Kitsune to awaken from her sleep, stepping into her clothes and trying to get ready as quietly as possible.

She lingered for a moment, gaze drifting toward the door, should she let Kitsune sleep and pop down to get them both some- she looked outside at the sun- either breakfast or dinner, she couldn't tell? The realization settled over her like a quiet tide—whatever happened next, she wasn’t the only one making decisions anymore. And that, more than anything, intrigued her. She felt a small, private smile brimming at the edges of her mouth, which spread to her eyes, giving them a golden-red hue.

 

[Shinrya Kitsune]

Kitsune had barely awoken when she heard a whisper of a question: "You don't do anything halfway, do you?". She opened her eyes and looked at Shizue, her girlfriend, and smiled, feeling all giddy inside. "No. I don't." she replied softly, reaching over to caress Shizue's side before pulling her close for a kiss. "Mm.. What time is it?" she asked, looking out the windows and seeing it being full daylight. So that at least ruled out morning and evening. And night. The big question was whether or not they had time to go visit Kitsunes workshop, so the promised collar could be made.

After getting an answer to the question, Kitsune chuckled "Well, we did take our sweet time before going to sleep." she said, sitting up and stretching, which made her spine pop in a few places. "I kind of want to get cracking on making the collar for you, so do you want to come with me to my workshop? It's in the basement of the central tower of the Torre Empirea. I have the perfect material to make your collar from." she asked, looking at Shizue with a smile. "And I promise I won't take all day to make it." she added, knowing that she could get lost in her work if she wasn't careful. It wouldn't be the first time, to be honest.

If Shizue agreed to go with her, Kitsune would get up and get dressed in her usual attire, which was a pair of black pants, a black shirt, and a golden vest with a hexagonal pattern, alongside her red tie and heavy black coat that was usually just slung over her shoulders. "I'll have food delivered to us there, so we don't have to worry about that part." she said, grabbing her phone from her suit jackets inner pocket and sending a message to the kitchen staff to prepare a breakfasty meal for two and deliver it to her workshop. As for the travel there, she'd take Shizue by the hand, once she was dressed and decent of course, and lead her to the garage where her car was parked.

Once the pair arrived at the Torre Empirea, Kitsune drove right to the central tower, and down a ramp to get into the parking area for her specifically. Then a few steps away, there was a biometrics secured elevator that'd take them to the workshop which was a few floors further down. When the elevator chimed to let them know they'd arrived, Kitsune led Shizue out and to the door of the workshop, which she opened with a chakra infused palm print. Inside, the workshop was a mess of tools, materials, and half-finished projects. But there was a clear path to a workbench where a pile of dragon scales were sitting. "I'll go grab a few more things." Kitsune said, leaving Shizue alone for a moment, giving her time to look at the scales, to go to a cabinet and pull out a few tools and a few more materials. She then returned to the workbench and started to work on the collar, which was a simple enough task for her, despite the main material being actual scales from a dragon. Or. From Kitsunes dragon form, to be more precise.

[MFT; WC: 548]