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The Cinq director raises her rapier elegantly, taking a basic stance.
"To the first blood."
"As thou wish!"
Ryoshu snorts as her blade goes up. "Don't you want to know about my wishes?"
Don Quixote smiles mischievously, tilting her head on the side, baring the carotid artery in a smooth motion.
"I am fully aware of all thy desires, my lady." She murmurs suggestively and Ryoshu’s breath hitches.
"Concentrate on the fight." Outis stops their exchange. "If both of you are fine with terms - start!"
"Alez!" Don Quixote says in the same second
Ryoshu doesn’t waste breath, she bolts forward, her blade swinging right at the opened neck.
Don Quixote sways out from the blade’s trajectory, but Ryoshu continues her offense, forcing her to finally raise her sword, making steel clash.
Slides down the blade with playful slowness, it falls over the handguard to reach Ryoshu's palm.
She manages to disengage only with a cut on her glove.
It takes a second to change her footwork, Don Quixote continuing pushing forward, while she raises the blade for another attack.
But Cinq parries a massive blade again.
It's a one-second stop, a demonstration of perfect technique, before flicking her blade away and dropping down, tip of the rapier targeting her foot.
Ryoshu hisses as an attack forces her to perform a dance-like movement. Don Quixote's eyes glitter from under this angle. Memories of all other times she had to look up at Ryoshu make her blood boil.
Without hesitation Ryoshu swings her sword into this sharp smile.
As if she were waiting for this attack, Don Quixote moves to the left, the rapier flying up again, trying to touch her wrist.
But Ryoshu is used to her little tricks, to Don Quixote’s strange obsession with her hands so she just locks their blades and presses.
Don Quixote disengages as always, circling around Ryoshu in elegant half steps, waiting for an ideal moment to respond.
Ryoshu gives her one, falsely lowering her blade, leaving a huge gap in her defense. Tempting, seducing. Provoking.
The trap is ridiculously obvious, but Don Quixote leaps forward, her rapier drawing a near perfect arc that Ryoshu breaks mercilessly with a hash return of her blade throwing Don Quixote’s hand away with inertia and reaching to her chest-
Her sword marks her clothe once again. Missing the skin.
But Don Quixote ignores this offense and lounges again recklessly, cape clapping thunderously like a whip.
Ryoshu tries to parry an attack, but the rapier goes around like a snake scraping her knee.
Then it tries to fly up, but Ryoshu slams it down, annoyed with Don Quixote's playing, all her tricks and coquetry driving her slowly insane.
The next attack goes to Don Quixote's stomach, and instead of parrying, she dodges it, cape sliding over Ryoshu’s wrist harshly.
Ryoshu blocks a rapier flying to her face in the next second.
Don Quixote's predictability starts to take a toll on her nerves, as her faint concern about the fight. She seems to be more interested in just messing with Ryoshu in front of everyone instead of winning. So Ryoshu swings her sword in a wide arc. Don Quixote instead of trying to block it, makes a disengage that immediately changes into another sharp head strike that Ryoshu barely deflects. Don Quixote tries to change it in another attack, but the distance is long enough for Ryoshu to regroup before blade reaches her and meet her attack with her own, harsher one.
Don Quixote's defense breaks before it gains any structure, and Ryoshu lounges her sword straight to her heart. It seems a perfectly useless aim, with lungs being as deadly targets but Don Quixote should appreciate symbolism.
Don Quixote barely escapes a lethal wound parrying a sliding attack with a flick of the wrist.
Then she launches forward, a rapier arc leaving Ryoshu's uniform with sleeveless asymmetry.
Ryoshu clicks with her tongue and just shakes a piece of fabric away, at the same time dropping a series of slashes over Don Quixote’s defense. The weight of her blade and force behind it allows her to push Cinq director into defense, her rapier flying around and almost desperate pace to avoid the shallowest cut. Still, it's not enough to erase a calm, confident smile on her lips or shake her perfect stride. The easiness of her movement is bordering on insulting, making Seven’s fixer hands twitch from desire to make her struggle.
So Ryoshu makes a wider, sloppier swing, straining her hands with an illusion of mistake. But it all pays out the second rapier crawls into a defense hole and Ryoshu’s blade drops down with the speed of mousetrap snapping.
Don Quixote still smiles, but inertia throws her hand far enough to leave her open, and before she can step away, Ryoshu lounges back, extending her sword in one hand grip, mirroring the rapier technique to give enough reach. But Don Quixote sharply swings her head and golden hair fly up, creating a curtain between blade and the skin. Ryoshu immediately jumps back, anticipating brutal counter attack.
But then Don Quixote laughs with her whole-body shaking, and drops of red fall on the wooden floor, under everyone’s gaze. For a few moments Ryoshu stares at them, giving time for excitement to bloom in her chest.
"It seems like you won, lady Ryoshu." Don Quixote raises her head, and Ryoshu can see a bright red line going over her cheekbone. A fairly shallow cut for a strike that was supposed to pierce her skull clean. Trying to stop blood from dirtying her collar, Don Quixote wipes with her thumb. Blood stains her gloves, making them shine seductively under the warm light of the training room. Her gaze slides lazily over wet glove before locking with Ryoshu’s with a knowing glint. She imagines her next step as if they were still in combat: half steps forward, catching of the wrist, and twisting it until Don Quixote obeys.
Then she imagines the familiar taste of leather and blood as she covers Don Quixote's fingers with her mouth. The way this casual smile will become wider and wilder as blush appear on her checks hiding the cut. She could use her fingers to catch Ryoshu’s tongue or press against the palate forcing her to look up-
Don Quixote cocks her head with a mischievous smile and for a second presses-stained finger to the corner of her lips.
She stares blankly.
Luckily before she can do anything stupid, the room explodes with ovation, reminding her that instead of their regular sparrings, it is a demonstration in front of two Fixer Associations. And while she isn't sure about the corporate culture of Cinq, she knows better than to give her colleagues food for gossip. So, Ryoshu rips her gaze away from Don Quixote and concentrates on her blade. It’s clean, blood slid of before leaving any stain and she doesn’t even need to wipe it with a handkerchief. A sky-blue piece of fabric was a bold choice, but Don Quixote sweet talking about “practical nature” of the present convinced Ryoshu to keep it.
But perhaps a possessive glint in Don Quixote’s gaze helped too.
"Thank you very much for the demonstration," the Seven director says in her usual calm tone. "As you could see, our fencing styles share a trait of valuing the most optimal way of attacking, especially when the wielders are not distracted." The accent on the last word makes Ryoshu raise her head curiously. Outis's gaze is right there, heavy and judgmental, showing that at least a single person in the room is painfully aware of what this little “brawl” is for them and what will happen after they leave this meeting. "Also, kudos to Ryoshu for showing how you can incorporate Cinq techniques in your own style." She says it in a tone that does not suggest any kudos. Ryoshu simply shrugs her shoulders too used to tired disapproval of her sheer presence in association from Outis. She heard worse. At the very least Outis knows better than to try introduce corporal punishment into the office.
The Cinq director hums. "Kudos, indeed. It was an excellent example of swordplay." Her eyes glimmer dangerously, as her voice goes an octave lower.
Wicked bastard.
Ryoshu wonders offhandedly if anyone else can see a shameless streak in the way the director moves and speaks or if it's only her own more experienced understanding of Don Quixote can catch these nuances.
Does Don Quixote like it? Being obvious in front of people who can’t catch a hint?
She closes her eyes for a moment to get rid of the annoying image and slides back to a place that her colleagues leave immediately. The meeting between two associations will end in next twenty minutes at most - a small tournament with series of duels lasting no longer than five minutes each. A positively useless event for advancing anyone’s skills, but important to politics as she can assume from Outis insistence over them. Don Quixote’s motives in alliance with Seven she doesn’t need questioning.
It was much more difficult to find time for each other when Associations were in conflict. She remembers all berating she received from Outis at this time duels with director of another association.
She sighs heavily. At moment of civil tension at least no one was surprised when they got in fights. No, they are supposed to hide or do this farce. First blood? What a pathetic end.
Ryoshu just needs to wait, then she would be able to see Don Quixote without unnecessary eyes. She doesn’t care about Don Quixote’s subordinates, but her own colleagues too used to analyzing surroundings and Outis especially kept an eye on them…
"Great, please choose your patsy from the opposite association, and we will try sparring. " Outis starts the last part of the seminar with a loud clap, and people start to move around reacting to this sound like a pack of fucking dogs. If Seven does not surprise her she raises her eyebrows at Cinq. Waves after waves people separate into crowds and pairs sound of floor creaking and blades clashing becoming a white noise. She lazily looks through pairs in faint attempt to find at least something entertaining among the sea of exhausting mediocrity when a single still figure catches her attention.
Ryoshu feels a flush of heat going through her body, her muscles tensing as if she is still in combat.
Don Quixote sits with her legs crossed over and elbow digging just above her knee. Her whole frame shifted forward stays still as she stares at Ryoshu without blinking or regard of anyone seeing it.
Ryoshu can feel the intensity of the golden gaze as it is physical, bladelike pressure against her skin.
She squints and sighs, heavily tilting her body closer to the wall. Maybe they can run away earlier. After all it’s not like Outis gives anyone chance to control the meeting. And Don Quixote needs to take care of her wound.
_____
Don Quixote's back slams against the wall as Ryoshu leans closer, pressing their bodies against each other, rapidly getting frustrated by layers of uniform keeping their skin from contact.
Her palm slides down from her underarms, squeezing out a deep, pleased whine out of her. The fabric between her and Don Quixote is irritating but Ryoshu allows shape of her muscle distract her for this. She reaches hip bone and then hook her terrible belt with two fingers and tug.
Instead of unwrapping easily, it just makes Don Quixote stumble as her lower part shifts further. The director laughs despite the uncomfortable position and just hooks her left hand over her neck and shoulders to keep herself up and with her right wraps Ryoshu necktie around her palm and tugs Ryoshu closer to her face.
She kisses the cut first, tongue trying to part edges of wound and Don Quixote gives her a moment to enjoy a bloody treat before a firm tug on piece of fabric like on a leash forces her head to shift drawing a pinkish line from cut to her lips.
Don Quixote's sweet and salty smile is breaking under her tongue much easier than healing cut, allowing it sink in warm wetness.
Ryoshu growls and slides her hands under her shirt, fingers trailing arched spine chord by chord as Don Quixote moans in her mouth. Wings, they are like teenagers hiding in the alley to make out, incapable of getting hands off each other despite a perfectly great flat and, more importantly, a bed waiting for them after an eight-minute walk.
Yet despite fully understanding that Ryoshu doesn't move even a centimeter, keeping Don Quixote in an entrapment. Very willing, very welcomed entrapment. Her hands didn't lie aimlessly; Ryoshu understands as her coat and shirt became slightly loose and cold air with cold leather slide up her stomach to the line of her bra. Palms spread out around her rib cage as a girdle, and her thumbs slide under the last piece of fabric stocking gentle yet firmly, as if Don Quixote tries to memorize her frame.
It takes a moment to comprehend levels of their decency and appreciate levels of control over how they dance. Don Quixote kept despite being the one against the wall.
But a moment passes, and she sinks her palm into Don Quixote's hair and yanks. Hard enough for a moan to break into a whimper and Don Quixote to shiver with her whole body.
"You are the lost party today.” She growls trying to hide her own hard breathing. “Behave like one."
"Make me." She smiles boyishly and squeezes Ryoshu’s sides deliberately still on the edge of decency. The myriad of images run through her mind, myriad of variants how to put Don Quixote in her place.
She breathes out shakingly and makes a step back.
Don Quixote blinks surprised but before she can open her mouth Ryoshu catches her tie and yanks her away from the wall chocking.
“Button everything back,” she says with a cruel smile, “than we can go home.”