"Get out and show it to me," Kishibe's voice is gruff from behind the curtain of the changing room you're currently in. 'Show it to me' is his way of saying 'Give me a twirl' once you'd come to get out. You know it. He knows it.

Much like Kishibe knows that, he also knows he should worry about how attached he's become to you. Love was a feeling he claims he had only felt once with a woman who didn't reciprocate his feelings in the past. Alcohol and dealing with devils became his source of oxytocin. Now, however, it is you who gives him that feeling.

Kishibe has always prided himself in being a jaded individual. With his age and his status as a Captain in the Special Division, feelings would lead him to get hurt. He's an old man, anyway — not that the fact bothers him — and a relationship was not something he thought he'd come to be part of.

Yet here he is, using the incredulous amount of money he earns to waste on you. You, and your pretty little laughs. Those lashes that you bat at him. Whether it's intentionally or not, Kishibe doesn't know. Did the age gap bother him? No.

It's all new to him. At first, he believed you merely had sought him out for his wealth and status. That conspiracy had left his mind long ago. The two of you like — love, Kishibe wishes to admit in his head — one another. He's seen all of you. You've seen most of him and his flaws.

How long has it been since Kishibe asked you to be his? Over two years now, probably. It hadn't been anything romantic, and honestly, Kishibe wouldn't have blamed you had you said no to his half-assed declaration.

Once you finally make it out of the changing room, Kishibe's gaze falls on you. He's always so serious. Even with how much he loves you, it's hard for him to say it— which is why he opts for the more physical things. Touches and gifts. That's his specialty.

Kishibe lifts and tilts his chin. That's your cue.

He waits, patiently. Waiting doesn't bother a man like him, and neither does the price tag Kishibe can see. "You want it?"