Surprise? I know, you hate me. It's been ages. I'm sorry? I don't really have an excuse. But I'll try better?

"Sooo," Daiki drawled slowly, a small note of incredulity creeping into his voice. "You're the cook then."

The guy in front of him was easily Daiki's height and though he had no way to know the exact measurements, he knew himself to be far from lacking in that department. The hair on top of the cook's head was dyed dark red with natural black peaking underneath the flaming mop and his black bushy eyebrows made it look like he had a permanent frown etched into his forehead.

He looked like he'll be good with the knife alright, just not around the kitchen.

The cook, who introduced himself as Kagami Taiga barked out a short laugh, his eyes crinkling in the corners and softening his feral features a little bit.

He was still a scary motherfucker though.

"Yeah, that would be me," he answered with the grin that showed two rows of sharp looking teeth.

"Well," Daiki was at loss for words. He didn't know exactly what he was expecting the cook to look like, but Kagami Taiga was definitely not it.

The grin got wider.

"What? Were you expecting an apron clad portly matron with a spatula in one hand and a rolling-pin in the other?" He asked in obvious amusement.

"A rolling… what?" Daiki asked automatically and raised his hand in halting gesture when the guy opened his mouth to explain. "No please don't," he said hurriedly.

Kagami smirked.

Daiki sighed.

"Look, this wasn't exactly on my schedule for the day. Besides when someone puts a gun to your head you don't really contemplate who cooked his omelet this morning."

This provoked another bout of barking laughter accompanied by Kagami bending at the waist and slapping his palm on top of the kitchen counter.

"God, you're a funny son of a bitch, aren't you. Boss sure knows how to pick 'em."

The smirk was back and Daiki bristled. He didn't like to be made fun of, especially if he was not in on the joke. New guy or not, he wasn't a pushover.

"Look…"

"Relax, will you?" Kagami interrupted, holding his hand palm up. "'m just teasing you. You are funny though, as in what you said was funny." Kagami raised his eyebrows, hitting a higher note at the end of the phrase, almost posing it as a question.

Daiki relaxed, embarrassed at his outburst.

"I must say though," the other man continued, tone casual, too casual to not be a warning. "That attitude of yours might not slide as smoothly with some other guys here. And I'm not," he added, seeing Daiki tense, "trying to intimidate you. You're obviously not some shrinking violet. You know where you are and you know what people in this business are capable of. Not everyone here is violent, but that does not mean they are not dangerous. Even our dear Ryouta-chan can cut throats like butter if provoked enough."

A derisive scoff tore out of Daiki's lips before he could stop himself. As far as he was concerned, the only fighting technique Ryouta-chan was capable of was annoying his opponents to death. Kagami laughed again, as though Daiki's facial expressions alone were a running comedy.

"Met him already, I gather. A pesky little shit ain't he?" he asked, mirroring Daiki's thoughts, but despite offhand words, there was something almost affectionate in his voice, like he was a parent talking about the misbehaving child. "He's a spoiled brat, I'll give you that. But don't let the princess routine fool you, that kid has been training since he could walk."

"If he's so strong, why'd he need a bodyguard?" Daiki couldn't help but ask.

"Because he is a princess, the one thing that dragon wants. And even if he was the best fighter in all of the family, that still wouldn't render him invincible. There's got to be someone to watch his back."

"Or be his shield." Daiki added, the other man only inclining his head a fraction to the side nether confirming nor denying the words.

They both were silent after that, Kagami occupying himself with preparing a plate of food – which was actually what Daiki came down for – and Daiki taking a look around the impeccable kitchen. Granite counter tops and expensive looking appliances all shone as if polished to perfection. It looked like a picture out of the catalogue, just as a room that the maid showed him to two hours ago and that was supposed to be his from now on…

Luxury was a concept foreign to Daiki's world and standing in the middle of what was supposed to be his room from now on, he came to the conclusion that the vague notion residing in his head did not even come close to what this family considered to be luxury.

It was easily the size of their dorm room in the orphanage. Only instead of ten single beds crowded together so closely that it left almost no place to stand, there was only one plush looking bed that could probably fit three of Daiki and still allow them to be comfortable. It was modern and simple, everything was done in pastel colors and shiny surfaces gleamed at him right and left.

It looked sterile, as if no one had ever lived here before. And maybe no one actually did. In a house that big there were bound to be some unused rooms, maybe even a dozen of them.

Daiki took a couple of steps into the room still disorientated from all the events of the day.

This was… home, he supposed. For a while at last, this was his and the thought was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. All of his most prized possessions could fit in a small bag dangling from his shoulder and they all probably cost less than a lamp on the nightstand in front of him.

He did not fit here, just like Kise said, he was dirty and rough around the edges. He only saw proper bed when his pride was too worn out to stop him from going to a homeless shelter. This was no fairytale and he was no Cinderella. Why would he ever…

"The bathroom is through the door to your left," quiet voice cut into his self-deprecating thoughts, making Daiki jump out of his skin. He span on his heels, almost falling down, but catching himself at the last minute and gaped at the blue haired man, that regarded him calmly form the doorway.

"Who are you?" he demanded incredulously and rudely, but, well, Daiki was always rude.

The blue haired man didn't even flinch from the loud sound of his voice. The slow blink of the large crystal blue eyes was all the reaction Daiki got before the same quiet voice answered his question.

"I am Kuroko Tetsuya. Akashi-san asked me to find you some clothes."

"I don't think your clothes would fit me," Daiki said pointedly looking up and down Kuroko's figure.

"No, they won't," the other agreed easily, seemingly not offended remark at his stature. "I'll ask Kagami-kun, he's the closest to your size here. You can get something of your own later". And then he was gone, leaving Daiki gaping at the spot that he just occupied, in the middle of the room that looked luxurious, but not in the last bit welcoming.

A plate full of food landed in front of Daiki with a soft clang, starting him out of his musings. His companion's eyes were on him once again and dancing with amusement, but surprisingly his temper, that was bursting like a flame just minutes before, remained quiet.

He started on the food, trying not to shovel everything in his mouth like a starved animal. It was a long time since he'd eaten a proper home cooked meal and never something so generous and tasty. Kagami lingered a few moments longer before starting for the door.

"When you're finished put everything in the dishwasher, it's next to the sink, I have some errands to run," he gestured to his right and then paused.

"If it's any consolation," he added suddenly changing the topic one eighty and returning to their earlier conversation, "They most likely would want him alive."

It took Daiki a moment too long to understand what he was talking about and by that time Kagami was already gone.

Daiki sighted.

No it wasn't any consolation at all.

Unbelievable was one word for it, but Ryouta rather preferred insulting. Because that's what it was – insulting. Standing in the foyer for fifteen minutes, waiting for a guy who was supposed to be his subordinate.

Bodyguard.

Whatever.

The point here was not who Aomine was supposed to be, but where.

Not that Ryouta was particularly eager to see him. Three days of living in the same damn house – a house that could accommodate a squadron of soldiers and still put no more than two people in the same room, by the way – and he was ready to gut someone, preferably Aomine himself.

Because for all the things Aomine Daiki was or wasn't, annoying was on top of the list of adjectives Ryouta could find for him.

Aomine was an ill-mannered epitome of everything Ryouta had no desire to associate with. And for some unfathomable reason everyone in this fucking family seemed enchanted with him.

His own brother decided to trust that unwashed boor with Ryouta's life after only seeing him for a couple of minutes (granted Akashi Seijurou had an uncanny ability to read people like a children's book, but still).

Even the ever unsocial Kuroko seemed to take a liking to Aomine. Ryouta has seen them with his own eyes, sitting together, talking amiably like old friends, with Kagami bustling around the kitchen and from time to time interjecting some jokes into their quiet conversation.

It was fucking unfair.

That kind of easy camaraderie was something Ryouta had never experienced here. These people, the best Akashi had, were his mentors and protectors. They were his family, however twisted the meaning of the word was in an organized crime world.

But despite his ability to stand up for himself and his status, Ryouta always felt looked down upon. Not in a condescending manner exactly, but patronizing, yes, definitely patronizing. He was always the baby brother, someone to look after, someone they were all fond of, but would never see as an equal.

Here comes Aomine Daiki and after only couple of days he is accepted the way Ryouta have never been. The way he probably never will be. And just like that his initial aversion for Aomine turned into something that very much resembled a blind hatred.

There was a commotion on the stairs and the man himself came tumbling down like an avalanche. Nonchalant as though it was perfectly normal to make your employer wait for so long.

"Yo."

Ryouta thought he heard something crack as his teeth ground together.

"Is that supposed to be an apology?" He asked glowering at his companion and added injecting as much venom as he could manage into his sugary polite tone. "I'm sorry, I don't speak hobo."

Lightening blazed inside Aomine's stormy blue gaze, his face donning an angry flash. Ryouta could see the war raging inside – on one hand, while it was obvious that Ryouta was purposely spoiling for a fight it was also obvious that Aomine would gladly give it to him. On the other, it kind of defeated the purpose of being a bodyguard if you were the one trying to beat your charge up.

"What d' I have to apologize for?" He asked, apparently deciding to be sensible. Well, Ryouta was in no mood for sensible.

"How about making me wait for your lazy ass for twenty minutes?" he asked, every word dripping with sarcasm.

That made Aomine pause, his head turning to look at the ornate grandfather clock standing not far from the entrance.

"Shit," he swore upon seeing the time, sheepish look on his face. "Look, I…" he started and then paused, apparently having no excuse for his dawdling.

Well, damn. Ryouta really counted on the fact that their mutual aversion will prompt Aomine to be contrary on principle. This guy was not supposed to be apologetic or remorseful in any way.

Lips pursed, he tossed his blond hair to the side in a careless gesture and turned on his heel, looking over his shoulder.

"Whatever. Get yourself a watch – we're going shopping anyway."

Kasamatsu-sempai was going to kill him, but the resulting horror on Aomine's face was well worth it.

Shopping trip turned out to be exactly what Ryouta needed. Even if Kasamatsu-sempai grumbled the whole time ("Why the hell are we going shopping like three giggly girls, Kise? You need new clothes like I need a hair bleach"). And Moriyama-sempai complained about his nonexistent love life non-stop ("Even without you around, girls don't turn to me! This grouch gets more attention than me, it's not fair!").

They were the closest thing he had to friends - his sempai from high school. And he missed them more than he would ever admit to their faces.

They probably knew about his parentage – people tended to know those things even though it was supposed to be a top secret – but no questions were ever asked or explanations demanded. Even the fact that there was a tall dark and scowling guy trailing after Ryouta when he came to the meeting place did not faze either of them at all.

Ryouta's short "This is Aomine, he'll be coming with us today" was only followed by a "whatever" and a cuff on the back of the head by Kasamatsu-sempai ("For being late, idiot!").

He didn't know if they preferred to play ignorant, thinking they would be safer that way, or just honestly didn't care that their silly kohai was actually a mafia prince.

It was probably better not to know, he concluded. They say ignorance is bliss and while Ryouta could never fully agree with that statement, he could definitely vouch that knowledge is disappointment.

"Kise, are you out of your fucking mind?!" Kasamatsu-sempai demanded as Ryouta shoved all three of them into the store dressing room. And even whispering and flustered at being stuffed into the small cubicle with two of his not so small friends, he still sounded like the strict demanding captain from Ryouta's school years.

And Ryouta still felt that ridiculous urge to bow down and apologize.

"But, sempai, all you need to do is distract Aomine while I slip away," he complained in his most childish tone, explaining his earlier request.

"To do what exactly?" was the immediate question, the one he did not want to answer, but will have to nonetheless.

"I–"

"You're meeting that guy again, aren't you?" Moriyama-sempai asked in a rare moment of insight. And, damn, did it have to be now?

Ryouta looked at his shuffling feet. There was nothing for it.

"Yeah."

"Wait. What guy?" Kasamatsu's scowl deepened in concentration, he was truly blind when it came to those things.

"C'mon, Yuki-chan," Moriyama teased wriggling his eyebrows, prompting Kasamatsu's scowl to become truly murderous. "You know who I'm talking about; you hate him too much not to know."

As he saw the realization dawn on the frowning man, Ryouta stilled himself for the inevitable tirade.

"What?! Kise, you cannot be serious!" he exclaimed a little too loudly and clumped his mouth shut. After a little pause though he continued, whispering now, his tone accusing. "You said you broke it off."

"You sound like a jealous boyfriend, sempai," Ryouta teased, trying to dissipate the tension.

Naturally, it had the opposite effect.

"Kise," Kasamatsu almost growled, taking a menacing half step towards him.

"Alright. Fine! We did, but then a couple of months later we picked up right where we started. I… it's not just something casual, sempai. I know you are wary of him, but you have no reason to be. He's very good to me."

The ire in the dark haired man's gaze had dulled somewhat, but the doubt was still lingering. So was concern.

"Sempai, I promise. It has been two years now. Don't you think something would have happened already if it was supposed to?"

Lips pursed, Kasamatsu paused. He had no argument, Ryouta knew. He had nothing but the hunch to back up his protests. And a hunch was not good enough.

"We won't be able to hold that Aomine guy forever, he will find out you're gone pretty soon."

It was their last ditch effort to stop him from going. It was not going to work.

"You don't need to. Just give me some time to sneak away and then give him this," Ryouta said, thrusting a small folded note into his sempai's hand. He knew them enough, to be sure that it will stay folded until it reached the recipient. They were both too damn honorable for that to happen any other way.

"Fine," Kasamatsu muttered and looked at Moriyama, who nodded in response. "Just… be careful, all right?"

Ryouta nodded and beamed, warmed by their concern. He resisted the urge to hug them though, knowing it would only result in a painful kick to the shins.

The hotel room was barely lit as Ryouta slipped into it, the door closing behind him with a soft snick. There was not much to see anyhow, as it was a pretty generic room that could be found in any hotel. Not too expensive, but not cheap ether, its most prominent future was the king sized bed in the middle, the red brocade comforter downturned on one side.

A hand slid around his throat, gentle, but demanding, long fingers spread on either side.

"Ryouta," the voice breathed into his ear, sending shivers of anticipation and arousal all over his skin. Ryouta closed his eyes and breathed in a familiar scent, tension leaving his body like a rush of water.

The name left his lips like a prayer of gratitude. He was finally where he belonged, in the arms of the man who made him feel safer than an army of bodyguards.

"Shogo."

Kagami kind of turned out more like Kyoshi, not sure why.

And Shogo is Shogo, I have big plans for him, but I haven't decided how bad he's gonna be yet.