The Cherry Blossom and the Snow - He was spring in bloom. She was winter untouched. [NSFW | Ex] [Zavaya - Verse]

[Zavaya]

The boat was idiotic, a level of obscenity Anastasiya "Nastya" Volkova really disliked. Her father, Mikhail had insisted though. It would be easy to defend and control. It was the only demand he had, if she wouldn't accept it, he wouldn't come. So now here she was, her twentieth birthday on a yacht the size of a small moon and her father shone through his absence. He said he had business to do, a last minute deal. It wasn't anything new to Nastya. Her dad was who he was. She knew what but had decided not to ask about it. Her mother had kept her out of that world as well as she could but a few months ago, her mother had died under suspicious circumstances.
Nastya was told it had been a heart attack but knowing her dad's reputation, she wasn't too sure. This doubt only increased when the records of her mother were nowhere to be found and everybody she asked about them were hiding something.

She was smart. Too smart for her own good. Having attended boarding schools in Switzerland and England, she was fluent in multiple languages but rarely spoke. The prime example of still waters running deep. She preferred the background. The shadows and the quiet life, enjoying simple things like hiking and playing the piano.

A large party on a boat was really not something she had wanted for her birthday and had she known her dad wouldn't even be there, she'd have arranged something else. Although she probably could have known. Now she was surrounded by people she barely knew and friends that were friends only because of her last name.

"Zayka!!"

A portly woman approached her and nearly squished the life out of Nastya's athletic frame as she hugged her.

"Do you eat? You're so skinny!"

"Aunt Ana.. So nice of you to come!"

The older lady made a gesture as if it was no big deal but Nastya knew it must have been a big deal, flying from Russia to Monte Carlo for a simple birthday party. Because there were other members from Russia as well, Nastya began to have the creeping suspicion that some of her family were using this evening for more than just celebrating a birthday.

"Nobody's called me Bunny in a long time though."

Nastya quickly added to her aunt. Hoping to get her message across that she was now an adult, not the hapless child she was when they still were all together in St. Petersburg. The portly lady quickly shuffled away into the crowd, having seen another person she obviously knew, leaving Anastasya relieved and alone for a brief moment.

Then she saw the guy who she had hoped would show up. She met him purely by chance a few weeks ago after he saved her years ago.

Nastya had been going out in Tokyo, celebrating a late 18th birthday. She was tipsy, way underdressed for the time of year and unknown to herself, getting a lot of attention. A blonde drunk Russian tourist. She had no idea just how easy a target she had been. Her driver had dropped her off at the hotel and in the brief moment it took him to park the car, Nastya had managed to escape his attention. Wondering the streets of a foreign city on her own, it didn't take long for a few guys to find her. Their intentions were immediately clear but there was nothing she could do about them. They had most of her clothes off when he appeared. Scared them away as if he was the devil himself and the poor guy who couldn't run away in time ended up worse than Nastya would have if they had been successful.

They had kept in contact for a while after that. She had asked him not to tell her father what had happened and he had agreed. The contact slowly faded until a few weeks ago when she met him in a restaurant in St. Petersburg. She had wasted no time inviting him to her birthday party, hoping he would come but not expecting him to make the trip to Monte Carlo for a random stranger he saved a few years ago.

"Hada!"

She snuck in front of him and smiled at him. He was tall, especially for an Asian, even a little bit taller than Nastya herself. But where she was willowy and lean, he was strong and even a little intimidating. She understood why the other three guys had dropped her and ran away upon seeing him.

"I'm so glad you could come. I might be in need of saving again."

She smiled at him, hugged him and flagged a waiter with a tray of champagne. After handing one to him, she took one herself and clinked her glass against his'.

"I hope your trip was good? I can't believe you came all the way out here for me."

 

[Verse]

Haeda Tsunoko wore a black suit, the red, transparent shirt buttoned all the way up. With the black tie cutting through, the patterns viewed through the blushing material were easily mistaken for part of the garment itself. On their first meeting, when he had beaten a triad member encroaching on Yakuza turf almost to death, Haeda had not had these marks. He had gotten in with the Yakuza, that night. He remembered it fondly, too.

He may be surrounded by glamour now, but his way here had been practical, tactical. A freight carrier by the manifest shown to the authorities of French. But the inside of the big plane was spacious, with benches to sit and nets to hold cargo. Most of their equipment was on-person, though, so there had been plenty of cubic meters to fill with whatever thoughts you had to keep you company all the way from Haneda, Tokyo. They'd gotten to Monte Carlo after touch down on Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris in the back of a semi. He left his friends in a safehouse while he got his tailoring done.

It wasn't like Haeda didn't like the finer things in life. It was partially why he did this. Little boy from the depopulated countryside of Japan, all dressed up in mainline Versace. But he did it mainly because it fanned worse sins in him than Vanity. Nasty a came to him. He liked her. He had taken comfort from talking to her, the last person he learned to know before his new life. She was a vision. He'd seen many pictures of her, even ones she hadn't sent, but she certainly beat them all in person. So full of life. So much potential in her flesh. He hugged her, one hand on the middle of her back and the other on the back of her neck, squeezing. It would look curt, but it would instill subtle dominance. That night, he had seen one of her breasts, when her clothes had been ripped. She was prettier then. He took the glass and smiled. She would be like that again very soon.

"I wouldn't miss it." he said, honestly. His complexion almost matched hers. His work was made mostly in the dark. His youth had his skin tight to his facial bones and his black eyes were well slept, though there was always something perverse murmuring behind them. His hair was barely long enough to be tied back, but tonight, he'd tried. There were frogs crawling up the side of this boat already, a birthday present to Russia from Japan. He drank all of the champagne in one go while the glass was still ringing from its small touch to hers. He discarded it on a passing silver tray, always so sure with his motions. He was rather focused on her, but still heard choked breaths from outside over the music, already. When he smiled the carbonation from the drink still sizzled on his incisors.

"How have you been, An-na-sta-si-ya?" Besides his accent and country typical deep voice, he also had some of the lingual mannerisms of his native tongue. She would know the sectioning of her name was familiar, playful. His stomach hurt when he looked her up and down and the tinge in his eyes vibrated through the barely held, polite facade - she looked so delectable. And soon, fully available to him. His present to himself. "You're so beautiful, tonight. Happy Birthday to me, eh?" He joked. He leaned in, first like he was going in for another hug, and then as though he'd take a kiss. He barley missed her lips so he could whisper in her ear.

"Tonight I'll finish what the triads started on you, in Tokyo." He whispered just as the first guard inside gargled at the door he was standing by.

 

[Zavaya]

She was confused at his words. Didn't know what they meant. Even when she heard the gargling and a woman scream did Nastya not connect the dots fully.
"Wh..."

A few of her own, or rather, her dad's guards, sprung into actio and a frenzy of gunshots, screaming and shattering glass erupted on the luxury vessel. It lasted a few moments, all of which Nastya was glued to the floor, watching people collapse and seeing Hada's icy look and demeanor. Her brain was quickly making sense of what he had said. He was going to rape her. Now that she had figured that out, the next question arose.

"Why... why are you doing this?"

It was probably a dumb question but it was the only one she had.

"Do you know who my father is? He will have you killed for this."

This was the first time ever Nastya used her father's name like that. Being a Volkov had been nothing but a burder her entire life but now she knew it might be her only way out of trouble. Or maybe... maybe they were after him? And all of Anastasya's birthday guests had just been collateral? Would they know he wasn't here?

The violence died out soon. She could see dead people, wounded people and others that were hiding. Surely people on the boats next to hers would have heard the gunshots and the shouting and would have called the police. Nastya knew enough about the world though that if these people had come here for her or her father, they weren't really scared of the police and had probably planned an escape already.

She turned her blue eyes to Hada again, pleading but not saying anything, stunned at what had just happened.

 

[Verse]

He should be looking at what the other men were doing, but they had practiced this enough that he wasn't all that worried. Like clockwork, people liked to say, and a clock is a percussive instrument, isn't it? To the beat of the violent scheme playing out, he just watched her as she crumbled to the floor. Seems they'd always ever see each other when she was in distress. To think that the first time he'd honestly just wanted to save a pretty thing because he could. He let his brothers do their work, but only had eyes for the laid-flat girl. How was she so sensitive to this, when it was to be her legacy?

Haeda unbuttoned his jacket to squat down to get closer to her. He lifted her head slowly as the war quieted around them, and the invaders started taking hostages, and ziptied them to chairs around the buffet table, where the food had been splattered and exploded many times over from the one-sided conflict. His hand was under her chin, so she was made to look at him. She was so gorgeous, when she was deep in distress. Her eyes were cold in color, but full of life. Last time it had just been from peril, but now there was betrayal on her pale features, too. It connected them. It made his actions more intimate. Only he could betray her like this.

"Your father is encroaching on a city that belongs to the Yakuza." It wasn't entirely true, as far as the world was concerned, but the port city of Yareli did cater mostly to the Yakuza, even if Triad and other syndicates were also present. The need for a strong military group under the Yakuza banner had birthed Haeda's band. And he had done well for his employers. Now they wanted more, and he had made it happen, in one fell swoop. Or at least he was about to.

He helped the birthday girl up, sure to pat her of the dust she had collected while down on the yacht floor. His hands stroked down her back and made sure to pat her behind thoroughly of the dust there. He even treated himself to a firm squeeze, as though to check just exactly what woman she'd grown up to, since he'd last been with her. It was her birthday, after all. Two cameras were mounted on tall tripods, and the black antennae on another stand would tell of their independent connectivity. The phone from one of her father's men was set into the collection of antennae, connecting directly to the encrypted chat the bratva kept in contact with.

As her father's face was shown on the big television where clips of her year had been playing, Haeda had her by the back of her neck, and stood her by the table. Even standing behind her, you could see most of him, given her shorter stature. He kissed her ontop of her head as the russian, tied men, erupted into cussing in their chairs. Haeda leaned down to nuzzle her cheek. He had his arm around her neck, but it wasn't too tight unless she struggled. "Say hello to your father, princess." he said.

And then his other hand tore downward, tearing her dress up.