Chapter Three: Gomen Nasai

Sierra stroked her fingers over the smooth porcelain of the unicorn statuette on her bedside table. She stared at the bamboo scroll hanging from the wall, but for once the cranes painted on it couldn't make her smile. One crane was stretched upward, while the other dipped low, as though bowing to his dancing partner. Isamu had told her about the cranes that dance, which was why she'd chosen this scroll. But despite his promise, Sierra hadn't heard from Isamu in a week.

"Look at it this way," Tiffany said cheerfully, from where she was rearranging her closet. "He would have gotten bored with you eventually. Better sooner than later, right?"

"Shut up," Sierra growled, clutching the unicorn tightly. It had been a gift from her grandmother, before she'd passed away.

"Well, it's true," Tiffany went on, her tone smug. "You're not pretty enough for a celebrity to date, Sierra."

Maybe she's right, Sierra thought. I mean, I'm sure he's busy, but I would have thought I would have heard from him by now. After they'd slept together like that...her cheeks burned, just thinking about it. She shouldn't have given in to lust like that; it was just so stupid. Worse, she was really hoping Isamu would call or come by, despite the fact that she was angry with him for this. And if she was stuck with Tiffany too much longer, Sierra just might kill her.

A knock on the apartment door startled her out of her thoughts. Sierra sat up, but Tiffany was already going for the door. What if it's him? she wondered, her heart leaping into her throat. I don't want Tiffany saying anything to him. She set the unicorn back down and leapt off the bed, but Tiffany had gotten there first. Sierra saw that there was a delivery man at the door, and he was holding out a long, slender box. The blonde took it and handed it to her, looking disgusted.
"Thank you," Sierra said to the delivery man, feeling a little surprised.

She set the box down on her bed as Tiffany closed the door in the delivery man's face. Damnit, she thought, sighing. Should have done that myself, I guess. She opened the box and found that there were roses inside, red and long-stemmed. With trembling fingers Sierra reached for the card. She opened it, studying the neat handwriting and wishing, for once, that she could read kanji. Still, it was enough to tell her that the roses were from Isamu.

"Who the hell sends only seven roses?" Tiffany asked, her voice derisive.

Sierra didn't answer her. Trust her to be so shallow, she thought, rolling her eyes. She knew exactly why Isamu had sent only seven roses; one for each day of the week since she'd last seen him. On a whim, she turned and looked out the window. There was a limo sitting in the parking lot. Grinning, Sierra grabbed the box of roses and raced out of the apartment. She forgot that she was wearing only her "scrubbed out" gear; old men's army pants with the knees torn out and a black, thermal shirt with patched elbows. Isamu was waiting for her, and that was much more important than clothes.

*****

Isamu laughed softly as the door of the limo was jerked open. He watched as Sierra carefully set the box on the seat opposite him. Amazing, he thought, smiling to himself. Did she realize she was leaving the house looking like she'd just rolled out of bed? It was actually really cute. Isamu reached out to take her hand, and was startled when she pounced on him. He laughed again, closing his arms around her, delighting in her enthusiasm.

"You jerk!" Sierra said, sitting up. "I thought I wasn't going to see you again!"

"I'm sorry, Sierra," Isamu told her, touching her cheek gently. "I've been so busy, whenever I've got a free moment, I've been sleeping or relaxing. That wasn't fair of me."

"It's your life," Sierra said quietly, sinking against him. "You didn't have to come see me again..."

She was so warm. And she smelled nice, too. Isamu slid his fingers through her hair, smiling to himself. He liked her enthusiasm; she gave him the impression that she really enjoyed his company, even though she didn't know him well. And not because he was a celebrity--however minor in the states--but because he was himself. Isamu held onto Sierra, relaxing against the seat. It was the first time in a long time that he'd wanted to simply go with his instincts and take this impulsive relationship further.

"So, why roses?" Sierra asked, relaxing more comfortably against him.

"Because they're the color of your fiery hair," Isamu answered, grinning.

She looked up, wrinkling her freckled nose at him. "They are not! And that is so lame, if it's true."

Isamu laughed softly. "No, no," he said, shaking his head. "Perhaps they're cliché, but I've always really liked roses. They're my favorite...I love the color red. I guess...you remind me of those things that make me smile..."

It still sounded lame, but she was smiling this time. Sierra brushed her lips lightly against his, a soft kiss that was intended to be chaste. Isamu held still at first, allowing her to tease him with small, light kisses. After a moment or two he lay back, stretching out on the seat, and startling her. He cradled the back of her head, holding her against him. Finally, Isamu thought, stretching out beneath her, time to relax and have some fun. He hadn't managed to feel quite so relaxed all week, despite trying.

"So, what do you want to do?" Isamu asked. He felt Sierra shrug.

"Anything that doesn't involve being around too many people," Sierra answered. "Um...hey, I know of this little bakery, it's really good..."

Isamu chuckled. "Hungry?"

"Maybe a little," Sierra said, wrinkling her nose at him. She broke out in a grin. "I've heard all about you, you know. Tiffany hasn't stopped all week. Did you know that you absolutely love junk food, especially pastry?"

Isamu laughed. Poor thing, he thought, shifting so he could look at her face. It was true, actually. He imagined Sierra knew a lot more about him now than she had a week ago, although he hoped that at least now she wanted to know. She told him where this bakery was and he told his driver. Isamu was also perversely pleased that she didn't want to be around other people. Usually the girls he dated wanted nothing more than to show him off to the rest of the world. It was worse in Japan; in truth, he hadn't dated in America really, aside from a one night stand or two.

They were quiet during the ride. It was nice to be around someone who let him be silent, who didn't want to hear constantly about every moment of his day. Guess I've been going about this all wrong the whole time, Isamu thought, grinning. This has worked out much better than trying to get to know her first. It was like Sierra sensed what he was thinking, because she sat up and scowled down at him, folding her arms across her chest.

"I don't like that look on your face," she said. "You have that 'I'm a smug male and I'm thinking smug male thoughts' look on your face."

Isamu couldn't help it; he laughed, hard. She glowered at him and he just laughed harder. The limo pulled to a halt, but he didn't make a move to get up. He didn't try to stop Sierra as she pummeled her fists against his chest, which didn't really hurt. At last, though, he reached up, winding fingers in her hair and pulling her down against him. She shivered a little as his lips brushed her ear.

"You're so cute, Sierra," Isamu murmured. "Let's go get that pastry, hmm?"

He noticed that her cheeks were bright red. Isamu slipped out of the limo first, then reached back and helped her out. They were in a much crowded part of town, full of shops, restaurants, and a bakery just in front of them. A crowd of people had gathered around the limo, but most of them dispersed, uninterested, when they saw that it wasn't Johnny Depp or Mel Gibson. Hmmph, Isamu thought, frowning. I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted.

He put an arm around Sierra's waist and decided to be relieved. They walked into the bakery, unmolested. It was a small place, but the glass display cases were full of pastries of all different sorts; elephant ears, apple turnovers, miniature chocolate cream pies in flaky crusts, cornets overstuffed with thick whipped cream. There were the typical bakery cookies, which for some reason never seemed to look very appetizing, and a dozen different types of brownies. Isamu felt like he could put on ten pounds just by looking.

"I have an idea," Isamu said, speaking in a soft voice so that only Sierra could hear. "Why don't we take something back to my apartment?"

Sierra grinned sweetly. "Or we could sit outside in the sun and eat."

"Ah, shot down," Isamu said, feigning lament. Her soft laughter made him smile. "Fair enough, Lady Fire Hair, we'll eat outside."

She pinched his arm and rolled her eyes. They spent some time looking over the contents of the glass cases. Sierra got a chocolate ring; a ring of pastry and chocolate, covered in powdered sugar. Isamu picked out a few different things, and bought a box of brownies for his mother. His mother loved brownies, but rarely made them for herself. Wait until she find a recipe she likes, he thought, and she'll be making them from scratched.

The two of them ended up going into the coffee shop next door and sitting at a table in front of one of the wide front windows. Isamu usually preferred tea to coffee; he thought coffee tasted like chalk. Sierra filled hers with so much sugar and cream that, when he sipped it, it didn't taste a thing like any coffee he'd ever had.

"Get your own," Sierra said, slapping at his hand when he reached for her coffee cup again.

Isamu jerked his hand backed, laughing. "At least let me have a taste of that."

"Oh, fine," Sierra huffed, but her eyes were lit with laughter as she broke off a piece of her chocolate ring and handed it to him. "So um...where did you live in Japan?"

"In Hokkaido, when I was younger," Isamu told her, as he nibbled at the piece of chocolate ring. "Lately we spend a lot of time in Tokyo when we're not traveling. Yukio's family is there."

"I'd like to meet them," Sierra said softly. "Your friends...they sound like a lot of fun."

Isamu grinned. "That might be too tame a word, but yes, they are."

Sierra laughed. He liked that she wanted to meet his friends...and that she'd called them his friends, not his bandmates. Yukio, Rai, and Akio would like her, he thought. Isamu wondered if she had other friends, and if any of them were like Tiffany. But he didn't asked, because doubtless Tiffany was the last thing she wanted to think about. He was worried about that, about what was going on between the two of them, but Sierra was enjoying herself and he didn't want to spoil her mood.

"Where did you grow up?" Isamu asked instead.

"I was born in this state," she replied, "and I've never left it."

Isamu's eyebrows shot up. "Never? Not even for vacation?"

"We could never afford it," Sierra told him, shrugging. "Maybe some day..."

"Where would you go?" Isamu asked, leaning forward. He reached for her coffee again, and this time she didn't stop him.

"At this point, I'd go one state over," she answered, grinning. "That would do."

Isamu glanced down at his watch, just out of curiosity, and was surprised to see that nearly two hours had gone by. It was getting late, but at least he didn't have to worry about dinner with haha. Eyeing Sierra, he wondered if she would stay with him longer, perhaps even for dinner. And maybe dessert, Isamu thought, smiling to himself. Watching the animated way she moved, even when she was doing something as simple as talking, made him want her. It was bound to drive him nuts before long.

Sierra stopped talking and frowned. "You're having smug male thoughts again, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," Isamu admitted, smiling. "Very well, I'll just come out and say it. Would you go back to my apartment with me for dinner?"

"Well..." Sierra hesitated a moment, biting her lip.

Watching her uncertainty, he realized what he wanted more than anything else was to simply spend more time with her. No one had ever made him feel so at ease before. Isamu leaned forward and rested his hand over hers, startling her.

"Just for dinner," he said quietly. "Please."

There was a look in her eyes, half-defeat, half-amusement. The faint flush that crept over her cheeks made him smile. Isamu reached out and gently tweaked the tip of her freckle-spattered nose. When she nipped playfully at his fingers, he laughed. Maybe this could be something more, he thought, running his fingertip lightly over her lower lip. Perhaps we could make it work...

*****

Sierra had to admit, she was pleased when Isamu had invited her back to his place for dinner. They'd ordered from an Italian restaurant that made the best meatballs and picked their food up before going to back to his apartment. She noted with amusement that he ate his pasta with chopsticks, in a manner that was half-Japanese, half-American. Just like he is, Sierra realized. Isamu was neat and dainty with the pieces of meatball, but the spaghetti he simply shoveled as if he was eating ramen.

She had tried using chopsticks, too, just for fun, but she'd always been hopeless with them. Even trying to use them the way Isamu did just didn't work. Finally Sierra gave up, when it became apparent that he wasn't able to eat; watching her made him laugh too hard. Plus, her food was starting to get cold, so she just used a fork.

"It's been a long time since I've seen anyone quite so bad with chopsticks," Isamu teased.

Sierra scowled. "Tiffany heckles me about it constantly. What's the big deal, anyway?"

"Don't ever let my mother hear you say that," Isamu warned. "She's a real stickler for tradition when it comes to the meals she makes."

"Does that mean you want me to meet your mother?" Sierra asked quietly, peering up at him from beneath her lashes.

Isamu put aside the plastic container, which was mostly empty, and leaned over. He still tasted faintly of tomato and garlic, but it didn't bother her, because she did too, no doubt. His lips touched hers lightly. Sierra set aside her own container, suddenly uninterested in food. She closed her arms around him as he leaned into her, as his mouth pressed against hers. Isamu kissed her once, hard, then pulled back a bit, smiling.

"I think I'll introduce you to my friends first," he said. "They're much more fun than my mother, anyway."

Sierra laughed. "Fair enough," she said. "But I thought we only came here for dinner?"

"We did," Isamu said, even as he settled her down on the couch. "I'll stop, if you want me to."

She slid her hands up his back to bury her fingers in his hair, and pull his mouth down to hers. It was like that night in the limo, when she'd wanted to fool around despite her better judgment. Isamu settled between her thighs, his hands slid beneath her shirt, and his mouth moved restlessly against hers. Sierra moaned softly as his hands cupped her breasts, the heat of his skin soaking through the soft cotton of her bra. He lifted his mouth from hers and looked down at her.

"Just a little?" he asked, and she knew exactly what he meant.

"Just a little," Sierra agreed.

Isamu pulled her shirt up and pushed her bra up, as well. He lowered his mouth to her breasts, pressing his lips against soft flesh. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his breath and the wetness of his tongue. Sierra shivered as his hand slid down her stomach and to the top of her jeans to unfasten them. Isamu slid his hand beneath her jeans, beneath her panties, and touched her. She gasped, lifting her hips up against his hand.

The tip of his finger teased her clit until she was wet. Sierra moaned as he slid a finger inside her. She arched her back, lifting her breasts against his mouth, as his finger slid in and out in a quick rhythm. Her breath came faster as a second finger joined the first. Isamu's teeth closed gently, nipping the soft flesh of her areola. Sierra's fingers tightened in his hair, even as her body tightened around his fingers. She shuddered, crying out softly as she came.

Isamu lifted his mouth to kiss her, and his hand moved away from her body. She wanted to pull him close, wanted him to take her, but he was straightening her clothing. Sierra sat up, confused, and finished fixing her clothes herself. Did I do something wrong? she wondered, watching as he rose and cleared the plastic containers from the coffee table. She stood up and followed him into the kitchen.

"I'll take you home," Isamu said quietly, after he'd dropped the fork and the chopsticks in the kitchen sink.

"Why?" Sierra asked, still puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Isamu answered, stepping close. His lips brushed her cheek ever so gently. "I simply don't want to do everything today, when I plan to see you again tomorrow."

Sierra smiled, feeling relieved. Her body still ached and tingled, but she couldn't imagine how he must feel. Isamu drove his own car to take her home, since he'd already given the limo driver the night off. He confessed to her, during the ride, that it had been hard to adjust to driving in America at first. Sierra was enjoying herself, and even though he offered to walk her to her door, it still meant the night would be over when she stepped into her apartment.

Unfortunately, the night wasn't going to end on a good note. The light was on in the apartment, so she figured Tiffany was there, but the blonde was nowhere to be seen. However, Sierra's side of the apartment had been completely trashed. She stepped inside, stunned into silence. Her clothes were thrown around, her bed linens pulled of and thrown to the side, her textbooks scattered and her notes torn. The bamboo scroll was missing from the wall, but that wasn't what upset her. Lying on the bare mattress, where she wouldn't be able to miss it, was the unicorn her grandmother had given her...now smashed to pieces.

"No..." Sierra murmured, stepping over ruined clothes and notebooks and settling on the bed. She gathered the pieces of the unicorn in her hands, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Sierra," Isamu said softly, taking a step towards her.

"Go away, Isamu," she said, letting the pieces fall to the bed and wiping at her eyes.

"But..." he protested, taking another step.

Sierra turned on him. "Go away!" she shouted. "This is all your fault, anyway! None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you!"

She turned away again, choking on her sobs. Sierra heard nothing behind her, no protest, no footsteps, nothing. God, that was a shitty thing to say, she thought, swiping desperately at her tears. She turned to apologize but Isamu had already left, slipping away more silently than she would have thought possible. Sierra let out a frustrated cry and brought her hands down hard on the mattress.

Porcelain, especially thin porcelain, could be as sharp as glass if broken a certain way. Her teeth came down hard on her lower lip to keep from screaming as the porcelain sliced into her palm. Sierra tasted blood in her mouth, and pain shot up her arm. Frightened and trembling, she lifted the hand to take a look at it. A wavering sob caught in her throat. There would be no apologizing to Isamu tonight. She pressed her hand against her stomach and reached a shaking hand for the phone to call an ambulance.