Renji was enraged throughout his entire ride home.
With the same anger, he stormed up the creaky stairs of his apartment building, chaos in his mind.
Who the hell did that bitch Akira think she was? Did she think she could really scare him off? Shoving him on the wall like that, slapping his balls? As if being abrasive would make him back down.
It pissed him off more than it normally should, but he didn't care. Renji didn't like being opposed, being confronted, being manhandled like that.
No one got away with treating him like a fool, especially not some overzealous bodyguard with a chip on her shoulder.
He entered his quiet apartment,v shutting the door loudly and tossing his backpack onto the sagging couch.
As he paced the apartment, Akira's face flashed in his mind: those cold purple eyes, that ponytail with the white streaks, her suit clinging to that ridiculous body.
And that proud, stoic look on her face after she'd harassed him.
