Murata gave a groan and slowly opened his eyes. It was not dark; a few torches lit the stillroom. But at the same time, something was different. It took him a few moments to realize that he was able to see. He did not feel his glasses on the bridge of his nose nor did he recall having his contacts on, but he could see. Very well. He could not recall any time in his life that he was able to see better.

He also noticed a throbbing pain somewhere in his lower body. He crooked his head to look down and saw his, or what used to be, his manhood laced up tightly with a crude ribbon of leather. He moaned softly as he tugged at his binds to see the limits of his movements. It didn't amount to much. He was sitting on the cold, brick, unyielding floor for so long (though he could not gauge on his own, for how long exactly) that his knees felt numb.

He licked his lips, his throat parched from thirst. He realized that he hadn't eaten or drank anything since the morning of his capture. He wondered how long it had been since then.

The great sage (he did not look so great the moment)'s throat was chained to the ceiling, as were his arms by chains that dug into his wrists, and he was kneeling on the cold stone ground, his legs sprawled out on two sides, secured by cuffs to the ground so that there was only a few chain-links' worth of space for him to move.

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing the young king and one of his guards. He was the same one, Murata realized, that had knocked him out earlier.

"You have awoken!" The king smiled in his mocking, elatedly. "I was wondering when you were going to. It was such a shame to have you knocked out for so long. My apologies, my dear friend. I did not think this one here would have caused so much trouble!" Saralegi chirped as he gave a swift nod at the clumsy guard, his tone not at all apologetic.

The king briskly walked up to the chained boy, and picked his face up with his long elegant fingers, his carefully manicured fingers glinting in the lights, lining up Murata's face with his.

"My, and don't you look lovely," he sighed. "I have always loved King Yuuri's beautiful black eyes and hair. And I have to admit; yours are quite spectacular as well."

He played around with the boy's hair, twirling a piece of an unruly strand.

"Don't touch me," Murata growled, twisting his head forcefully away from his captor's grip.

"My," Saralegi smiled in delight. "Your personality changed so much! It must be so hard putting on a masquerade for your ignorant friend. I doubt he knows the depths of your true intelligence and intentions, now does he?"

"I do not put on any masquerade, unlike you," Murata spat, glaring at Saralegi. "And don't talk about Shibuya like that. He isn't even in your league. He is the one who is going to save-"

The king grabbed the sage's face once more and slid his face right before it. His golden eyes shined dangerously, though his eerie smile never faded. "He is not going to save anyone, Great Sage. He will not get anywhere, and I will personally make sure of that. Why, he's such an ignorant child!" He laughed. "He can barely distinguish an enemy from a friend. He is too gullible and trusting to be a leader at all!"

"A leader," he added, his golden eyes glinting. "Must always be cautious of his surroundings."

"A change in the type of people ruling a country is a good thing," Murata retorted.

He tried again to move his face away, but the child king had more power in his grip than he expected.

"And, yet," the young king cooed. "You are mine now, Great Sage. Mine. And I plan on enjoying your company."

"Get your filthy hands off of me, you ugly bastard," Murata growled, having lost is usual cool. Having his best friend insulted was one of the things he greatly despised.

Saralegi let go of the boy's face which was clearly marked with red lines from where he had grabbed it. In one swift motion he slapped Murata's face, his face contorted in rage, though only for a moment. His smile was plastered again half a second later. When a small bit of blood from a tear in the victim's lip emerged, he laughed merrily.

"It's such a beautiful color, isn't it?" He murmured to the guard as he bent down and licked the blood off the boy's lip. Murata gasped in horror and Saralegi's eyes shined in glee. The guard stood rigid, unable to respond, unsure of what his king wanted.

That might have been my first kiss! Murata thought, horrified. Damn you, Shibuya!

The king daintily picked up the chains linking his neck to the ground and yanked. Hard. The choke chain immediately tightened up, gagging, and at the same time causing excruciating pain. Murata tried to gasp for breaths, but the chain had cut off the circulation of air. He tried to claw at the collar, but his arms, with its limited freedom, could not reach anywhere near his throat.

Saralegi released Murata in such an abrupt motion that the sage's head fell to the ground, and would have hit the hard floor had Saralegi not put out is foot to cushion it. He then kicked the leg up to return Murata to his original sitting position.

Murata gasped for air so frantically that he looked as though he had drowned and had just been rescued. He coughed as though in a fit. Saralegi waited until his prisoner stopped his spasms while he admired the boy's body.

Murata had a very lean, smooth body. Though not extensively muscular as a sports-man like Yuuri's was, he had no extra fat, and had on the slightest bulges of muscle. It would have been unexpected of such a nerdy boy to have such a perfect body. His skin was smooth, as though it were of a girl's. He could very easily have been mistaken for one had he a few curves.

"Beautiful," Saralegi smiled as he gently traced his long fingers down his side. Murata shivered from the touch.

He put out his hand to the guard who fumbled around in the "box of treasures" to hand him a whip. It was very well made, with a very elastic, long, and polished branch, complete with a decorated handle. It was not at all like the crude whip that the guard had used earlier.