TITLE: TOUCH OF FAITH by: nekozuki1776

DRAMA/SUPERNATURAL/ROMANCE

RATING: PG-13 due to strong language, violence, and slight adult situations

SUMMARY: A guarded man of ice with little emotion. A spirited young woman with a tragic past. It was a simple matter of fate the two figures meet. AU. Akira x Yuya pairing.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Samurai Deeper Kyo anime, manga or any of its characters. Kamijyo Akimine is the true legal and spiritual owner.

This is an AU (alternate universe) story. It contains a pairing between Akira and Yuya. If you are a Kyo/Yuya shipper and do not like the exploration of any alternatives, you have been duly warned. This story contains various SDK characters (that appear in later volumes of the manga) some might not be familiar with and thus might be considered as minor spoilers.

Touch of Faith

Chapter 1: The Life of Two Figures

A crazed, raspy voice of a man bordering on madness. His frustration heightened by an overabundance of alcohol.

A small figure quivered before him, taking the brunt of his violent drunkenness.

"Damn it, you good for nothing, clumsy piece of shit!" The man slurred in an angered tone. "You have no use around here!"

The small boy dropped down to his knees and scuttled away from him, "Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean to break the vase!"

"Shut up idiot! I'm beating some sense into you!"

"Please don't hurt me," he repeated in mantra-like state. "I'll be good from now on. I promise. Please. Please. . ." his frail voice trailed off as he began to sob.

"Stop your whining Ajira! You can't escape your punishment!" The man staggered towards him, lifting the now empty bottle to his lips; becoming further agitated when he realized his liquid sustenance was long gone.

The sound of a whiskey bottle being broken echoed throughout the room.

He flung the bottle about, knocking over the ceramic lamp; shattering it to many pieces, including the bulb. Darkness filled the room. The boy's only remaining sense of direction was the glaring street light that shone through the window.

He hated the darkness and the man new it.

"Don't look so scared kid. Just showing what you did to the vase . . .an eye for an eye, and you're 'bout to get what's coming to you!"

The wobbly hand of the bullying drunkard swung carelessly but uncannily on the mark towards the object of his uncontrolled anger. The man grabbed the boy's wrist and readied for an attack.

A frighteningly precise swing flew in his direction as the boy frantically tried to escape the man's wrath. Adrenal fear drove a surprising burst of power into the young victim as he successfully pulled away from the attacker.

But the man was fast. He swiftly prevented the attempted escape as he continuously kept pace until the boy unwittingly found himself trapped in the corner of the room. The man sneered evilly and lifted the broken bottle in the air once again, "This is what happens to good for nothing bastards!"

The jagged end of the bottle just barely missed the top of the boy's head as he made one final attempt to escape.

And instead made contact with the upper right side of his delicate face.

The attacker then slipped on a pool of his own spilled booze and fell into a drunken state of unconsciousness.

The victim smelled the pungent odor of whiskey and the stench of blood that spilled from his wounds. He didn't scream out in pain. He simply touched the tiny cuts in morbid curiosity as his world faded into complete horrifying darkness.

He bolted upright on his bed, breathing hard between his desperate gasps for air. He was sweating profusely as his arms flailed about in the dark, knocking over the lamp on the adjacent nightstand in his post nightmare stupor. The cotton sheet that was normally cool against his skin did nothing to lower his body temperature. He yanked it away and got up from the bed.

He unconsciously brushed his hand over his disheveled bangs. His light blond hair almost reflected white against the moonlight that pierced between the blinds of the bay window. Seemingly closed, he always left the blinds slightly ajar to allow the slivers of light to reach his bed.

Still discombobulated from the dream, his hand dazedly proceeded down to his right eye. They were still there; the tiny, barely visible scars located around the eye from the bits and pieces of the bottle that once embedded his face.

Remnants of the memory long lost past. He shook his head, trying to repel the lingering feelings of nausea and fright.

He looked at the digital clock obtrusively declaring 3:45am in furious crimson.

He sighed. Another night of only three and a half hours of sleep.

On nights like these, he could almost feel the thousand points of pain shattering the side of his face.

He could still smell the cheap whisky co-mingling with the coppery smell of his blood and the stifling grime in the air of that hot summer night.

The last night he saw that no good, worthless bastard.

The last night he went by his old name.

The last night he was able to see fully out of his right eye.

And the last night he promised to himself, that he would ever be weak and vulnerable.

He walked briskly out of his bedroom straight into the kitchen and splashed some water on his face.

He poured himself a glass of cold water and took a swift gulp – trying to lower his body temperature and calm his still rapidly beating heart.

Sighing gratefully, he dropped down on the stool by the kitchen counter which separated the dining room.

This was the fifth night in a row he had the nightmare. He started experiencing it several months ago in increments every week or so. But as time wore on, it came to him more vividly with increasing repetition until recently, he had the nightmare every single evening.

And he hated it. It's been years since he had the dream.

He wondered what providence had instigated this unwelcome reminder of his long lost past.

He hoped that his roommate was not disturbed awake from the commotion. Despite the abundant space the condominium offered, his roommate, like himself had an uncanny ability to sense strong emotions such as fear and frustration—emotions he was experiencing quite intensely at the moment.

He took two generous gulps to finish off the water and grumbled in his tiredness as he glanced towards the rosewood clock whose short hand pointed to four. It would be useless trying to go back to sleep. He decided it was best to just begin his morning routine instead of heading back to bed. He would just add more distance on the treadmill and do some extra research for work. One could always find additional work to be done at his firm. His sadistic boss always saw to that.

He didn't mind the extra work. The more work, the more clients, the more business, the more pay. He was well on his way to becoming financially independent; putting plenty of his money away into savings and sound investments to someday allow for a comfortable living beyond early retirement. Years of mistreatment and rejection had taught him that only he could take care and protect himself.

Despite the tragic life changing experience from long ago, he had managed to make a few errors in judgment over the years by mistakenly trusting a few people. But that was all it took to learn for once and for all that people were inherently evil. He concluded that to trust a very few meant the lowest probability of getting betrayed and hurt. The statistics alone were enough to place the defensive wall of ice around his heart. He didn't need anyone.

Some might see this arrangement as a lonely life. This might especially be the case to a young man of only twenty-three years who was well on his way to an executive track of success. But he didn't see it as such. He already had a core group of people he considered worthy of his respect and trust. Not even a handful, but that was all he required. Other than a few friends, he had no one. It was exactly the way he liked it. After all, self-imposed solitude was much better than the alternative.

Most who tried to get close we're proven to be dirty, low-life bastards who only wanted him for his money, his intelligence, his looks, or his prestige within the company—all materialistic and superficial crap for their own personal gain.

He would never outwardly admit it but every person he encountered that fit this description hurt like the shards of the bottle, piercing his emotions one piece at a time.

He sighed as he decidedly pushed away the dark thoughts and began the process of his early morning routine.

-o-o-o-

"Morning Mahi!" a spirited voice of the energetic eighteen year old bounded out of the kitchen as an exhausted looking woman dragged herself into the room.

"Ugh, can you tone down the chirp a couple of notches? Or at least wait until I've had my morning cup." As an afterthought, she added, "And stop calling me Mahi."

Ignoring the last command, she placed a generous sized mug in her path, "I already brewed the coffee. Here you go, milk, no sugar."

Mahiro Muramasa mumbled an incoherent gratitude, taking a sip of the hot brew as though it was her lifeline.

"I don't know how you can always be so happy in the morning Yuya. Did you already finish your morning workout?"

"Yup, a two mile run. Better than any caffeinated substance to start off the day. You should go running with me this Wednesday."

"You ask me this every other day and you know my answer. Besides, you know how crazy my hours are--especially with my new schedule. I didn't get back until 3:30 this morning."

"That's right, you started your new hours as a resident!"

The young Dr. Muramasa was well sought out in her field. Despite many offers from reputably exclusive institutions, she chose to walk the path less traveled and often unappreciated. The twenty-nine year old new resident continued tirelessly in her profession as an Emergency Room doctor of a city hospital.

"So the chipper college student finally gets it." Mahiro grumbled, laced with humor as the legal stimulant began taking an effect throughout her system.

"I'm sorry, I forgot all about it. I got home from work at ten thirty last night and since the lights were out by the time I got home, I figured you went to bed early."

"Nope. And it was a real doozy of a night at the ER too. Three overdoses, broken ribs, and a knife stab victim."

Yuya nodded sympathetically, "I don't know how you do it. You really are something to be able to handle all that," and in realization she added, "Hey, isn't today your day off?"

Mahiro tilted her head once in the affirmative.

"Then why are you up so early?"

"Now I couldn't miss seeing my little sister off on her first day of college, could I?"

Yuya smiled in response, "That's so sweet! And as a token of my appreciation, I'm going to spruce up some hearty breakfast just for you. What would you like Mahi? Rice and miso soup? Fruit and toast? We do have some leftovers from Saturday-"

"Whatever you have is fine. And stop calling me Mahi! I'm not a fish!"

"That's mahi-mahi. And if you don't like Mahi, then what else would I call you?"

"How about Mahiro?" she responded sarcastically.

"That's too boring. And the other nicknames aren't that appealing either. I can't call you Hiro; that's a guy's name. Hmmm, how about Mahi-chan?"

"Ok, ok. Mahi will do, just don't call me that in front of other people ok? I have a sophisticated rep to uphold as a respectable doctor you know," she smirked.

Knowing how her adopted big sister could have cared less of her prestige as a doctor, Yuya simply smiled, "Let me refill that cup and I'll scrounge up some wheat toast and fruit, ok?"

Mahiro would normally have scoffed at a gesture like this as she wasn't used to such attention and kindness. But it was always an exception when it came to the vivacious girl in front of her. She was hot tempered, a bit on the clumsy side, and surprisingly naïve considering her tragic past. But no one had a bigger heart, a kinder spirit and a more trusting nature than the sweet, energetic blond who was now a permanent part of her tiny group she called family.

"Thanks Yuya, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Cooking is the least I can do for letting me stay rent free in your apartment, nee-chan. I just wish I could do more."

A slight frown etched in her brow as Mahiro responded assuredly, "Stop that Yuya. Look at all that you've done for yourself. Even after everything that's happened to you. You've pulled yourself together, stayed disciplined, trained hard, and maintained excellent grades in school to earn yourself a full scholarship to a great university. And even though I said it was unnecessary, you've held part-time jobs throughout all this."

"Well, I wanted to at least be responsible for my spending money. . ."

Mahiro knew despite all the hours she worked in her various part-time jobs over the years, Yuya rarely spent any of the money on herself. She wondered where her earnings went but thought better of exploring that avenue since she new that Yuya would never do anything foolish. As long as it wasn't anything illegal, Mahiro had decided long ago to trust her judgment as well as respect her privacy. While Mahiro tried to provide her with the necessities and a few of the luxuries, she tried to never overstep her boundaries as her guardian.

Yuya had an unshakeable sense of pride and dignity which dictated she be treated as an adult ever since they began their life together. Allowing her certain responsibilities of the household was one of the few saving graces that had brought Yuya out of the shell since the incident. Mahiro had always tried to provide all the independence her young ward called for. It was amazing how mature she was for her age. But then again, she had been like this for quite some time now.

A little over four years now.

Mahiro remembered the tragic day like it was yesterday.

Identifying the body of Nozomu at the hospital. His frightened sister, lying in the emergency room, bandaged and half-drugged with her own injury. The police, the doctors, and the detectives all surrounding Yuya. And Mahiro trying to ward them off the barely conscious girl who had sustained a long, jagged knife wound on her abdomen. The only person who seemed competent and respectful of the distraught girl's situation was the assistant detective on the case.

The lead detective was an older gruff of a moron who only went through the motions; showing little effort in finding the killer. No doubt the result of years of working on one gory case after another which jaded him into a cold, unsympathetic being.

It was determined by this detective that the murderer was a professional who covered his tracks well and would probably never be found despite the so called intensive effort placed in the investigation. Even to this day, the case remained unsolved, the murderer still at large. The crotchety detective eventually retired two years into the case and thus allowed the assistant to step up as the new lead on the case.

Determined to find her best friend's killer, Mahiro continued to meet with the new head detective even after the case was placed under the non-priority status. In fact, this was the other reason why she had gotten up earlier than usual this morning. It was time to receive her bi-monthly update on any new possible leads.

Although Yuya had been diligently informed on the case, she was not apprised of these secret meetings. To prevent any unnecessary worries and more importantly for her safety, there was a consensus for Yuya to not be informed of these meetings. Mahiro was determined that Yuya not be placed in any danger—especially considering some of the leads the helpful detective was following up on. It had taken too long for Yuya to come out of her grief and start living a life of a normal teenager again.

While mature and rational on many counts, Yuya was entirely a different being when it came to the topic of her murdered brother. The last thing she wanted was to have her running into the streets in the role of the reckless bounty hunter searching for her brother's killer. The vigilante-like detective she was working with already fit the role and she didn't want her taking the part. She wasn't going to risk the safety and happiness of her sister on a few leads that were bound to turn up nothing.

Deep down, she knew the big risk of doing this in secrecy. But Mahiro had weighed her options and decided that on the slim chance she did find out, it was better for Yuya to hold an eternal grudge against the older sister than placing her in the position of anguish and possible danger. Mahiro had no intention of unnecessarily burdening Yuya of the tragic past and she was determined to protect her from anything that would harm her.

She still remembered the personal oath she took four years ago. With no parents and relatives to claim responsibility over the fourteen year old girl, Mahiro took guardianship over Yuya without hesitation soon after the tragedy. After all, Nozomu was her best friend from medical school and she had always treated Yuya like the little sister she never had.

It was touch and go the first couple of months they lived together, Mahiro doing most of the talking and Yuya doing none of it. It took a long time for her to come out of her grief. But Mahiro never gave up. She knew what Yuya had gone through. She knew how hard it was to lose a loved one. Yuya needed time, space, patience and a listening ear once she was ready to talk. And Mahiro did just that. It was a pact she made to herself to look out for Yuya from that point on.

And as Mahiro had surmised, time gradually started the healing process. Yuya stopped spending time in solitude and they fell into a more comfortable living routine. She diligently did everything she could to help Mahiro around the house.

One thing was for certain, Yuya was an excellent cook. A heck of a lot better than Mahiro since her diet during her med school days consisted of instant ramen noodles and cold pizza. One would think that a person studying the art of health and medicine would have better eating habits. Go figure.

The voice of the young chef interrupted her deep thoughts, "Here you go. If last night was half as hectic as you said it was, you probably didn't even get a chance for a break let alone eat a nutritious meal." Yuya placed a plate of wheat toasts with butter, a bowl of sliced apples and peaches cut up in bite size slices, and a tall glass of orange juice, "Now eat up, sis!"

In many ways, it was more of the little sister that looked out for the older one. Mahiro was indeed lucky to have her.

"I better get going," Yuya picked up her book bag. "Don't want to be late for my first day of class."

Mahiro stood up and gave her a big hug. "Have a great first day, Yuya. I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks Mahi. I'm working this afternoon but I'll be back by six thirty tonight, and I'll make us a real nice dinner, ok?"

"On no you're not. There's no way I'm letting you cook on your first day of school. We're going out for a nice dinner and I'm not taking no for an answer!" Mahiro continued speaking, now shouting to the parting student who was past the front the door, "And thanks for the breakfast Yuya!"

Yuya waved happily in response and headed off to her first day of college; unaware of the figure with a pair of dark, narrowed eyes standing in the shadows, watching her every move.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-