A/N:

Here is the third and final part of the King of Pain series. I own nothing but the scenarios, and even then I'm not picky. Thank you to Miyanoai for betaing. She worked most of the weekend and still managed to crank this out. She's the best.

As I said previously, this is the sequel to first Clean and then He Would Be There. If you haven't read those, this story won't be in context. They aren't necessary, but it's like you reading the Harry Potter series with The Goblet of Fire. You'll know what is happening the story, but you lost a bunch of back info.

Enjoy!

***I'mChanging***

Chapter One:

Akihito sat on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest and a thin sheet tucked around them. Dawn was starting to crest over the iridescent cityscape. Already, he could hear Tokyo stirring. He had spent the past year living closer to the ground, and further from the clouds as he slept next to a different man. He had forgotten how the sounds of life had comforted him. He hated the quiet, being so far removed from his peers, his friends, his equals.

This was how life was supposed to be. Lying next to a partner who loved you, despite your flaws, your annoying habits. Kenzou slept on, peacefully unaware of Akihito's wandering mind. The marketing analyst did not have to be awake for another hour, so Akihito let him sleep. Forgoing the kiss he usually pressed against Kenzou's temple, Akihito stepped out of the bed. Kenzou did not stir.

He needed to get a quick shower in before work. They were having a staff meeting, and as a newly promoted member of the senior staff, Akihito actually had to speak. The water was warm as it ran down his back, but Akihito barely felt it. He had been numb for a long time, so long that feeling anything surprised him. Rinsing his hair, head titled back, the photographer looked at the popcorn ceiling. He hated that ceiling. It was tacky, and outdated. But this was not his apartment. It was Kenzou's, and he only lived there. So he said nothing.

Kenzou was starting to wake up as Akihito was pulling on his jeans. Rather than speak to his boyfriend, the photographer grabbed his coffee mug and camera. As the front door shut, Akihito heard Kenzou break from his hypnopompic stupor. He kept walking. He needed to get to work.

***I'mChanging***

The staff meeting was boring, full of the same trite rhetoric as last month's meeting. The paper was barely making ends meet. The advertising department needed to boost sales. The stockholders––the few they had–– were grumbling. The walls were crumbling all around them, the ceiling barely still above their heads. If they didn't change their ways, they soon would be unable to make rent.

Things never changed. There was always a small push at the beginning of the month, an attempt to get their shit together and save their failing paper. It never lasted, and they always made less money. Sales were at an all time low.

Akihito had other job offers. He left the Tokyo Sun when he left Asami, wanting to sever all ties entirely. He expected the fixer to send men to find him and drag him back to the condo. Instead, his things were neatly packed and sent to Kou's. His best friend had not even known that he had left Asami until Kirishima had shown up on his doorstep. The secretary was stunned by the admission. He, and Asami by extension, had assumed that Akihito would take refuge with his friends.

"Takaba," his editor, a grizzled man named Oshishi, motioned for him to come near with his fingers. "You've got a call from Wakazaki."

Wakazaki was the editor-in-chief of the Asahi Shimbun. Akihito often got freelance offers from large papers because his photobook detailing the Yukimura Antiquity Exhibition was a smashing success. He could have gone to any paper after leaving the Sun because of the notoriety. He had chosen to work somewhere small, off the beaten path where he wouldn't run into Asami. His current gig did not pay much, but the odd jobs kept him from the red.

"Thanks," Akihito nodded, heading for his small office.

"Line two," Oshishi held up two fingers.

"This is Takaba," Akihito picked up his phone, which he was pretty sure was manufactured in the nineties.

"Takaba, this is Wakazaki," the familiar voice replied. Akihito had done several risky jobs for the man while he was with the fixer. "I've got a job, if you want it."

Anyone who had a freelance job called him at the office. He didn't have a cellphone anymore. Kenzou offered to buy him one but Akihito declined seeing it as just another way for Asami to track him.

"Wakazaki, it's been a long time," Akihito pulled out a notepad and a pen. "Give me the details."

The photographer could swear he was smiling.

***I'mChanging***

He called Kenzou to let him know that he would be home late. His boyfriend was less than pleased with the call. "Do you realize that you could die?" the analyst said slowly, after a moment of silence. "You nearly did last time."

The last time had been a month ago. Akihito had fallen off a fire escape-–his balance wasn't quite as good as he thought it was. He had dislocated his elbow, and had to wear a sling for ten days. Kenzou thought the fall would have killed him or at least knocked some sense into his thick skull. It didn't. Before that, he needed twenty stitches when the perp beat him with his camera. Akihito still had the scars from that one.

"It's my job," Akihito pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No," argued Kenzou. "Your job is to take pictures. Not to jump off building and destroy crime syndicates."

He had given up criminal journalism after he left Asami. He didn't want to take him down, didn't want to see the man at all actually. It was better for everyone if they pretended that the other did not exist.

After seeing Asami six months ago, his need for adrenaline returned. He started going for the big scoops, the drug deals and the dirty politicians. As long as Asami wasn't involved, it was fair game. It was the only thing that made him feel alive. Feel anything, really. Kenzou had been frantic the first night Akihito came home injured. Kou sighed as he rolled his eyes, knowing that it was long overdue. Akihito could not repress who he was indefinitely.

At first, Kenzou tried to distract him with kinky (but not really) sex, and then with extreme sports. Akihito liked the sports. It worked for a short while, but the thrill was temporal. He needed the rush from his life or death scoops to feel. Even then, the edge had begun to wear off, forcing him to go after bigger, more dangerous men.

Kenzou was reaching his wits end.

"That's always been my job," retorted the photographer. "Long before we were together."

"You're going to get yourself killed one of these days. And I don't know what I'll do with myself then," Kenzou sighed forlornly.

"We've only been together for a year," Akihito snapped. "You'd move on. Find somebody new," he said it with more acerbic heat than he intended to. But he was starting to feel smothered, controlled, and there was no way Kenzou could love him, truly deeply really love him, in one year. It was puppy love, a fatuous infatuation. Right?

He could hear his boyfriend recoil. "That's cruel."

Akihito wanted to bang his head repeatedly on his desk, but he thought it would splinter if he did. "Look, I don't want to fight now. I can't be distracted on the job. Can we talk about this when I get home tonight?"

"Don't bother coming home tonight if you don't think I love you," the man hissed. The photographer heard his tears.

"Kenzou, that's not what I meant––" Akihito started to explain, but his boyfriend cut him off.

"I'll know how you feel about me––about us––tonight." There was a click, and the line went dead.

Akihito dropped the phone on his desk as he slumped back in his chair. He didn't need this. He had work to do. Grabbing his red pen, he started to mark notes on the latest batch of photos his team turned in. They were a good group of kids, but they were still learning the tricks to the job. He could tell that before the film had even been developed. But it was his job to bring them up to snuff, and he was determined to do it.

***I'mChanging***

Wakazaki had stumbled upon reputable info that Tsukishiba Bunko was going to meet with the Chinese Ambassador to Japan, Yang Zhu. Akihito recognized Tsukishiba's picture when he met with Wakazaki. He was a slimy politician that took a perverse pleasure in thwarting Asami's legal efforts. It wasn't some moral defenestration of Asami's power, but a legal way to push his own political agenda and subsequent financial gain, while weakening Asami's regime.

The fixer had constantly searched for a way to end Tsukishiba, but was unable to do so quietly. The photographer smirked to himself. It would be poetic if he were the one to take Tsukishiba down, and not the crime lord. Best of all, Akihito was going to do it for justice, not some misguided act of love for Asami Ryuichi.

Akihito assured the Asahi Shimbun editor that he could get the job done, no problem with no questions asked. He had the guts and the talent to do the job discreetly. He did not need to know Wakazaki's motives, who he wanted to expose and take down. All he needed to do was get the job done.

The meeting was at six-thirty, a perfectly nefarious and dastardly time, set not under the cover of darkness, but the cover of dinner. No politician could have an illicit meeting in a government building. Even if it was a private matter, the global implications would be severe. Tsukishiba owned a botanical garden that would provide the effect cover. Though a public place, very few visitors would be there at suppertime, and it allowed Tsukishiba complete control over the situation.

Akihito paid his cover charge to get in, making a mental note to add it to his expense tab that he submitted to Wakazaki. The gardens were beautiful. It was stunning to see the virid vegetation and brightly colored flowers in the heart of the urban metropolis. He wandered around the cobbled paths. He wanted to find what Tsukishiba would consider to be the best meeting place.

The gardens were spacious, cram packed with foreign flowers, but sat only on three acres of land. Unless the men went into the massive foliage for their rendezvous, the potential meeting places were limited. Akihito considered planting microphones just in case he guessed wrong. However, Wakazaki wanted photographic evidence, so Akihito needed to skip the microphones and guess correctly. He did have a tape recorder prepped just in case.

"Oh shit," the photographer ducked his head.

Tsukishiba's partner, Yang Zhu walked around with two men flanking him. There was no way that the dignitary could recognize Akihito, but the photographer took no chances. Asami was no longer going to bail him out of danger, not that Akihito depended on that before or after their relationship, but he did not need to be reckless.

He discreetly followed the man, snapping more photos of flowers than Yang. Akihito knew he looked like a cheesy tourist, but it allowed him to observe the foreigner. He walked tall, proud, and curious––a true tourist to the Elysian wonders. Nothing about him screamed flagitious, and Akihito would never have given the man a second glance if Wakazaki had not tipped him off.

The three men spoke in Chinese. Akihito retained fragments of the language from his time with Feilong. Words like "Here…close…too obvious…good…" intermingled with undistinguishable chatter. He sensed that they were looking for a suitable meeting spot.

The photojournalist followed Yang around for an hour before it was time for the meeting. Yang's men turned, and walked in opposite directions as Tsukishiba approached. They shook hands, and then walked away from Tsukishiba's men. Akihito followed in a roundabout fashion, circumnavigating the men and the ducking into the bush. Yang and Tsukishiba were maybe a meter away from the photographer. He wanted to use his Nikon but the shutter snap would alert them to his snooping. So he was forced to use the small periscope lens that he attached to a handheld camera.

"He is a threat to our global control," Tsukishiba stated firmly. Damn, Akihito snapped the first picture. He got there a little too late, and had missed Tsukishiba's opening pitch.

Yang was nodding slowly. "You don't have to convince me again, Tsukishiba. I'm here because I agree with you," he said in heavily accented Japanese.

"I just wanted to remind you what's at stake here," Tsukishiba glanced around furtively. "He controls the eastern seaboard, and if he is able to push through the senate bill tomorrow, he'll have most of the western seaboard as well. Free trade is challenging enough without having to pay him tariffs to unload our shipments."

Yang bit his thumb. "My team is thorough. It can be done prudently, but it will take a fortnight."

"No," Tsukishiba's voice was as hard as steel. "It needs to be tomorrow morning, before the senate meeting. That way he can't force anything to happen."

"It wouldn't delay the meeting," Yang said pointedly.

"No, but it was fluster everyone enough to withhold the vote. It gives us more time to place the rights bribes, to make things go our way," replied the Japanese politician with a jerky shrug of his shoulders.

It was a delicate conversation. They could have been talking about filibustering or bribes. They weren't, though. Akihito could not breath. His heart raced so loudly that he could barely hear. They were talking about an assassination. He snapped another picture, as he glanced at the tape recorder in his pocket. He was going to take this to the police the moment they were done speaking. Wakazaki could get his story, and Akihito could save someone's life.

Yang pulled out a package of cigarettes. As he offered one to Tsukishiba, he said, "You've thought this through."

Tsukishiba lit his cigarette. "I have had a long time to plan this," he agreed. "And I really hate that man."

The two chuckled. Akihito snapped another picture––anything to focus on something other than the dread that pooled in his gut. He had a sharp mind, despite the dumb blond act he put on sometimes. There was only one man that could cause so much vitriolic consternation: Asami Ryuichi. And the fixer that had always seemed to be indestructible was going to die tomorrow before two o'clock, when the Japanese parliament met.

Yang smirked. "Don't we all? Tomorrow morning shouldn't be an issue. But it will be dirty. Close range."

That seemed to surprise Tsukishiba. "Why no sniper?"

"That takes time to prepare," explained the diplomat. "If you want it to be immediate, it won't have any finesse."

"Asami deserves a messy death," Tsukishiba glared at nothing but the thought of the fixer. "I would rather it be slow and painful, but at this point, I just want him dead."

"Beggars can't be choosers," Yang agreed.

Akihito's stomach clenched. He was going to vomit any second. He wasn't worried about giving away his location. All he could see was Asami laying on the sidewalk, a hole the size of his fist in chest, and Kirishima covered in erythraean blood as he tried to stop the bleeding.

"My man will require a partner. Someone to provide both an alibi and information on his target," Yang took one last, long drag off his dying cancer stick

"I can have Taoka ready by six o'clock. He's one of my best men. Strong and smart, he'd be a perfect partner. Besides, he needs to see how this is done. I can't keep turning to my allies to have my business handled," Tsukishiba said quickly.

Yang nodded disinterestedly. "My man will be waiting at the Takadanobaba metro station at seven thirty. It is fifteen minutes from the Sion offices."

Akihito stopped moving. Stopped thinking. Stopped breathing. The next words were the most important ones he would ever hear in his life. Asami's life depended on them.

"Yes," said Yang blithely, as if they were discussing the weather and not ending a man's life. "Have your man meet mine there at that time. He'll be coming via train, dressed as a civilian. Your man, Taoka, needs to have my payment, as well a dossier on Asami Ryuichi."

Tsukishiba furrowed. "You aren't going to brief him yourself?"

Yang looked genuinely surprised by the suggestion. "Of course not. I have no official knowledge of any of this. And by using your man, neither will you."

"Oh," Tsukishiba bit his lip. "That's a good idea."

Yang did not answer him. Tossing his cigarette on the ground, he stubbed it out with his toe. He nodded to his accomplice. There were no pleasantries, no goodbyes. The men turned and walked away, back to their subordinates. Akihito fell to his knees. Sobs wracked his body. Tears clogged his throat, streamed from his eyes, turned the dirt into mud. And when he could cry no more, when his body stopped sucking in oxygen, Akihito collapsed onto the ground. Blackness consumed him, and he let it all go.

***I'mChanging***

Akihito spent the entire night wandering around Tokyo. He had awoken minutes after his collapse. Usually sleep––unconsciousness––soothed his fears, made them less visceral and more conquerable. Not this time. Not when Asami was going to die tomorrow morning.

When he awoke, Akihito did not think. Just acted. He ran to a payphone, dug through his pockets for loose change, but it was futile. He did not know Asami's number, or Kirishima's or Suoh's. Swearing, his threw the phone against the Plexiglas. The metal reverberated loudly, the walls shook but did not break. Akihito wanted to scream in frustration, but another thought struck him. Sion––of course! It wasn't even nine yet. The fixer would still be at work.

Akihito ran like he had never run before. Men shouted as he shoved past them. Cars screeched to a halts, horns blaring, drivers' fists shaking as he darted through traffic. His camera bound heavy on his back, bruising him. He didn't care. He was so close to Sion, to warning Asami.

The familiar entrance of the tall building nearly glowed like a beacon. Contrary to popular belief, Sion's office buildings were separate and far away from the club that birthed Asami's empire. Still, the fixer always had a guard disguised as a doorman standing tall, keeping anyone out. The building was state of the art, equipped with doors that would not open without a chip that was on every employee badge. But the guard could open it.

"Stop right there," the thick man stepped between Akihito and the door. While he was with Asami, the fixer had given him a badge that would let him into Sion. To this day, Akihito carried it in his wallet. He should have tossed it years ago, but sentimentality made him keep it in the back of his wallet. Now it was going to be put to good use.

"I'm getting out my card," Akihito snapped. It was hard to run and riffle through the brittle leather.

"You don't work here, kid," he said evenly. He stood in front of the card reader, arms folded. "I know everyone who does."

"It's important," Akihito jerked the card out last pocket. "Asami's life is at stake!"

The guard grabbed Akihito's wrist as he tried to shove his way past the man. The key was suddenly cumbrous, too wide to fit in properly in the reader, too thick to slide smoothly. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or that his hand was shaking so badly that it fluttered like a hummingbird's wing.

"You can't go in there!" the guard repeated.

"I know what you're saying but I don't care," Akihito snapped. "I'm not going to let them kill Asami!"

"Get away," the guard flung Akihito forcefully away from the door. "Even if that outdated card worked, I wouldn't let you in. I know who you are."

"Then you know I'm trying to help Asami!" Akihito screamed. He could not believe it . This man, this idiot, was going to keep him outside. Keep him from saving Asami's life.

"You're a reporter," the man scathingly hissed. "You're just trying to get an inside scoop on the boss. I won't let you ruin him." So he did not know that he was an old lover. He just saw a journalist.

"No! No! No!" Akihito screamed. He needed to get in that building. Asami needed to be warned.

"Get away from that door!" the guard slipped his hand into his jacket. Akihito knew what he was doing: going for a gun. "I will use this!"

Fuck! There was no way he was going to get into Sion. If he knew Suoh's number he would get a hold of him. Shaking his head, he looked the guard in the eye. "Just pass the message along to Suoh Kazumi, okay? He's Asami's head of security. Let him, or Kirishima Kei or even Asami himself know that a guy name Tsukishiba plans to assassinate him tomorrow morning!" Lunging forward, Akihito grabbed the guard by the jacket. "Just fucking tell somebody!" he shook the heavy man.

Letting him go, the guy stumbled back. Turning on his leg, Akihito took off running again. Sion was a bust. The stupid guard was too rigid in his job, too aware of the rules that were meant to stop danger and not listening to the imminent threat that was about to come. Still, Asami had a home. And Akihito had always been friendly with the doorman.

***I'mChanging***

"Takaba-san, I can't let you in!" Souji, the doorman had to physically restrain Akihito. The photographer struggled to get through the revolving glass doors. "You don't live here anymore!"

"Souji, they're going to kill him! There is a hit out on Asami! He needs to know!"' Akihito fought against the skinny man. Souji was no bigger than Akihito, slender and dressed in an uncomfortable burgundy uniform. He did not have the mobility that the photographer did, but he had the fear of his boss's. He refused to let the former tenant inside the ritzy building, where the elite thrived.

Souji threw him hard, far away from the door. "Stop!" he shouted. Souji hinged forward at the waist his arms outstretched to keep Akihito back, away from the door. "You and I both know you can't come in here anymore, Takaba-san. Residents only."

"You don't understand!" the photographer wailed, ready to tear his hair out. "I HAVE TO SEE ASAMI!"

"He doesn't live here anymore!" Souji shouted right back at him. "He hasn't for two years!" Akihito stumbled back, mouth dropped open and his shoulders heaving. He could not believe his ears. Asami had left his home, their home, a long time ago. Just like Akihito. Souji saw his speechlessness and capitalized on it. "Please, Takaba-san. You need to leave!"

"Souji, listen to me," Akihito plead as he shook his hands in frustration. "A man named Tsukishiba Bunko has put out a hit on Asami's life! They're going to kill him tomorrow morning! You need to tell me where he lives now! Someone here must know!"

"Takaba-san, you need to leave," Souji repeated. "You can't be on the premise any longer."

Akihito howled, drawing the attention of many passersby. "Are you even listening to me? Asami is going to die if I don't tell him what I heard!" he shouted at his once-upon-a-time friend.

Souji's shoulders slumped. "You aren't the first to come spewing stories like this," Souji shook his head. "I've heard them before, from different people desperate to get back into Asami-sama's life. And none of them have turned out to be true."

Akihito's gut dropped. "You don't understand!" Akihito tried to pull out his tape recorder. "I've got proof! I taped them talking about it!"

"Just stop," Souji plead. He sounded sympathetic, as if he could understand Akihito's broken heart. "I've heard all the stories. Seen all the evidence. I don't care how well you can fake it. I know it isn't really. No one will believe you!"

"You have to!" Akihito shouted.

"No," Souji said firmly. "Now go. Or I'll have to alert security."

"Souji," Akihito whispered. "Please." He had to believe the photographer. He just had to. Asami couldn't die. Not if Akihito had information that could stop it.

"Leave, Takaba. Now."

***I'mChanging***

That was what lead to him to drifting through downtown Tokyo, hands stuffed in his pockets and his head bent. The weight on his shoulders was suffocating; the sky must have weighed less. Asami Ryuichi was going to die tomorrow morning, and nobody would be able to stop it.

He could just go home. Kenzou was waiting for him, undoubtedly wanting to have their talk. He knew that Akihito often worked into the wee hours of the morning, especially if he had a story. The marketing analyst would not suspect a thing was wrong if Akihito only now went home. Akihito could always leave Asami to his fate. The fixer had inflicted far worse agony on the world than a simple gunshot. He surely must have known that his time on the planet was limited, that somebody someday would outwit him. That he would be taken out like all of the others that he had killed.

Perhaps it was fate. Even if Akihito had managed to warn the crime lord, another attempt would have eventually arisen. It was the nature of the fixer's business. There was always a top dog, and the food chain. Mankind wanted to be on top, to rule. They seized the ability via the evolutionary chain, and perhaps it was instinctual, but the need to subjugate was strong. Someone would always want to take Asami down, and one day, someone would succeed. It was just a matter of time. And on that fateful, predestined day neither Akihito nor anyone else would be able to stop the bullet meant for him.

Asami was human, and all humans died.

He turned down a back alleyway that cut Shinjuku in half. It would get him home quicker. Kenzou's apartment was not anywhere near the affluent area, they both were too poor even with their combined incomes. Akihito could be home within the hour, where he could sort this mess out with Kenzou, and then bury his head in a pillow and pretend he knew nothing.

The first few days would be hard, especially whenever Asami's obituary made front page news. Akihito would still have Kenzou. They would go on, living their lives together as kind people, doing good in their little corner of the world.

Kenzou…If Akihito were honest with himself, he knew that the relationship was falling apart. The sex was good, their home was full of laughter, and the marketing analyst was an all around good guy––the antithesis of Asami. However, they just did not mesh well together. Kenzou liked the apartment to be clean, with all the dishes done, and if the television was on, it was not the latest gore fest. Akihito did care for the man. He could admit that. However, he was starting to remember the good times, not live them.

Akihito took a sharp right––the opposite direction of home. He knew that the fight was his fault. Kenzou was worried about his latest scoop. It was too dangerous, the men he was photographing would kill him without a second thought. Getting the pictures meant nothing to his boyfriend if Akihito invited danger to their door. Also, he was very aware that Akihito could take a position at another paper and make twice as much, something he urged the photographer to consider daily. If only Akihito was not so stubborn.

Kenzou really didn't have the patience to be with the blond, let alone live with him. Akihito was cantankerous and stubborn once his mind was made up. He refused to change his ways, expecting others to react to him. There was very little compromise. He knew that he had a strong will, and that he needed to be with someone who had an equally strong will, who could keep him in check, and not have his way all the time.

Kenzou was not that person.

Lost in thought, Akihito roamed the city all night, as if his staying awake would prevent dawn from coming. Come sunrise, he found himself standing on the boardwalk, staring at sunrise coming over the Pacific. Vendors were slowly arriving to open their shops as the seagulls clucked like chickens. The shimmering moonlight was replaced by dawn's spindling fingers. Rosy magenta bled into the inky sapphire and the golden sun, the colors running together like a watercolor in the rain.

The day had come at last. In just a few short hours, Asami Ryuichi would be dead. Assassinated. Murdered.

He guessed that Kenzou had his answer; Akihito had not gone home. He didn't believe that Kenzou loved him, and he really did not care about their relationship. They were over. Akihito was not saddened at all.

He had tried to warn the fixer. He had told every single person that he possibly could. No one seemed to believe him, but maybe the tip was several enough to tell Asami anyway. A guy could always hope.

Akihito thought back over the past few years of his life. He was a shell of who he used to be. He barely talked to his friends, barely socializing. He was falling apart now more than he was when he was with Asami. Akihito did not recognize himself when he looked in the mirror. The transformation was even physical.

Seeing Asami at the bar with that woman was an electric shock to his system. The crime lord looked so unaffected by their meeting. Though Akihito had been rattled to his core, he tried not to let it show. It was that night he realized that his heart had shattered. It wasn't Kenzou pretending that they were not together, but the simple act of Asami bringing her a beer. It took Akihito back to when he has happy and loved and when he had loved in return. To see that the fixer had moved on was the most painful thing Akihito had ever experienced.

He had not wanted the crime lord to know, so he put on a brave face, and pretended that he didn't care. Asami would never see that part of him.

One thought fought its way to the front of his consciousness. It was the one irrevocable truth: he refused to live in a world without Asami in it. He had tried all possible avenues to get word to the crime lord, but his efforts had fallen short. That left only one option.

He was going to intervene.

If no one would help him save Asami, Akihito would just do it himself.

***I'mChanging***

A/N:

This is a three part story, because for some reason I like the number three.

Now onto some business for those of you who have been with me from the beginning, and you newbies can read too! I received a PM asking why I had stopped writing my two longer fics: My Sunshine and Hyacinthus Bloomed. It's a two part reason.

First of all, I felt like the stories had become muddled. I received a few reviews that made me think I was falling away from the AxA focus in both stories. That was never my intention. I ship AxA hardcore, and I don't ever want to lose that in these stories. I need some time from both of those fictions in order to revamp them, and get back to the my original intents.

Until then, I will be writing more one and two shots about AxA. They will be the definite focal point of the stories. I want to make sure I have a fundamental understanding of the couple before I attempt more fleshed out fics with other characters, but I can get distracted by OCs. Also, I want to spend some time getting to know Akihito. He's a little troubling for me to write, so I need a good grasp on his character before i push forward with either of the those stories.

Be aware, this is a temporary hiatus for the two stories. It won't be too long before I am back to writing them.

Secondly, Cam and I broke up last week. The first day was hard, but I am doing quite well. However, I am not in a romantic mood. And you can see how that might be a problem with HB. I don't write fluff anyway, so you all won't notice a change in my stories. But I don't feel like doing anything with bold declarations, or cute scenes. Not for a little bit at least.

Thank you for your patience. Have a great week!