Title: Beneath My Skin
Disclaimer: They aren't mine; everyone except Yuki's agent belongs to Murakami and Matsushita.
Summary: Through the written word, a man falls into obsession with the world within. As he comes to know the voice behind the words, secrets and dangerous truths reveal themselves.
Author's Notes: This is a crossover between Yami no Matsuei and Gravitation, dealing with Oriya and Yuki. It's set two years after the Kyoto arc in Yami no Matsuei and about three months before the beginning of Gravitation (anime canon). This was on here ages ago before being taken off and (obviously) reposted. So if you get deja vu, that's why.
Additional Note: You'll notice Muraki's crimes happen a bit differently in Oriya's book. That's something Oriya did on purpose so it was something everyone could relate to, as the supernatural aspects would be too strange for many readers.
------

It had become enthralling for him, both the book and the author behind it.

The plot was certainly not the type that tended to appeal to Eiri Yuki. It was the biography of a psychopath, the type so twisted they belong in a padded cell, certainly not immortalised within the pages of a novel. And certainly not written with such compassion, as if the author deeply cared for such a monster. Not that the story was anything but fiction, but the realism and detail with which it was written caused one to forget this fact.

It is difficult to pinpoint just what caused Yuki to pick up Predatory Dove that day in the crowded bookstore. If one were to ask Yuki, he would tack it up to a myriad of things, refusing to expound on his answer. This would be because he couldn't expound on it; he didn't fully understand it either. All that mattered was that the novel drew him in, and ever since then, it was a part of him.

The idea to eventually meet Mibu Oriya, the mysterious author of Yuki's beloved novel, came to him quite early. Though Yuki did not let himself entertain such a thing. The possibility of this actually transpiring was highly unlikely and could possibly lead to disappointment.

Finally, he appeased his still hopeful spirit by writing the author a letter of appreciation. His sister Mika had teased him, calling it a fan letter, but Yuki ignored her. The very idea of such a thing was mortifying!

The letter was written, placed in an envelope, sealed, addressed, and promptly tossed in the dustbin. He certainly could never send something so effusive! Besides, its only purpose was to force himself to move on with his life.

A week later, the foolish idea of a meeting returned. This time, Yuki could not tolerate the torture this line of thinking put him through and decided to do something about it. What he did would make him cringe immediately after; he called his agent and begged her to beg Mibu-san's agent to arrange some type of meeting between he and Mibu-san.

The worst had happened; Eiri Yuki, poised, respected author, had become a shameless fan boy.
-----

Four months later, a handsome young man sat behind the wheel of a glistening sports car. His blond fringe hung about his face, falling over a pair of dark shades. If one were to see Eiri Yuki, one would think him calm, poised. Secretly he was anything but, with his pounding heart and vibrating fingers. In his mind he alternated between chiding himself and rehearsing what he would say. He felt like a teen heading off to his first date.

I can't believe I actually asked to meet him. I can't believe he agreed! This is insane, I am a fellow author, I shouldn't ask such things. I'm too old for this behaviour!

This meeting was no easy feat to arrange. Mibu-san was a private man, horribly uncomfortable with the idea of calling any attention to himself. When his agent suggested a book tour, he vehemently resisted for months until she suggested shortening it to a five-
city tour at only the smallest of bookstores.

Not surprisingly, meeting Yuki was another thing Mibu-san was not pleased about. To warm him to the idea, his agent gave him one of Yuki's novels to read and one of his interviews to watch. Impressed by Yuki's maturity and fluid writing style, he agreed to a meeting.

As Yuki drove by the bookshop, he was taken aback by the droves of people in and around the small establishment. The signing was nearly over; it surprised him that so many should remain.

With this many people here, maybe no one will recognise me.

It would be so nice if he didn't have to wear his shades and that horrid hat Seguchi Tohma lent him. His sister had mentioned Yuki's meeting to her husband when they all met for dinner the other night, and Seguchi insisted Yuki go incognito and wear that stupid hat. Whenever he pictured himself in the hat he could only see a ten-year-old girl at a modern dance recital. Sadly though, it was the only hat that matched his somewhat upscale attire, consisting of pressed black trousers, a forest green turtleneck and a black leather trench coat. He somehow doubted the baby blue pom-pom snow hat he'd had since he was ten would be too flattering. Not that he remembered his lack of head attire when Yuki insisted he wore something else, which is how Seguchi won that battle.

I realise there's a price for fame, but this is ridiculous.

A piercing ring sounded in the car.

Yuki fumbled a bit before locating the phone.

"Yes?"

"It's Megumi, where are you?" As usual, there was a slight impatience in his agent's tone.

"I'm here. It's completely swamped, is there no back way I can enter the store?"

"There is, but there's nowhere but on the street to park, so you still risk being spotted if you got out of the car and cut through to the back."

Inwardly, Yuki groaned.

"That's fine, I'll enter from the front and hope for the best."

"Well good luck, your fans are nothing if not clever," she warned before hanging up.

He gritted his teeth, searching for somewhere to park.

There had been nothing to worry about. With such excitement and such a mass of people, no one even noticed Yuki. In fact it was hard to notice anything except the crowd.

Doing his best not to be obvious, he combed the store for a glimpse of Mibu-san. It was not until a few more people left that he finally got a glimpse of the man sitting alone at the signing table, shoulders hunched over the book he was autographing.

Mibu-san was not exactly how Yuki had pictured him. Yuki had imagined him like many thriller writers; a slightly dowdy man just past middle age with neat greying hair. Mibu-san was rather young and quite striking, with shocks of dark hair curtaining his thin, pale face and falling in front of his dark eyes. He could just imagine this dignified, introverted man sitting in a garden writing Predatory Dove in longhand. Mibu-san did not seem the kind to type his work.

After about ten minutes, the storeowner announced they would be closing in five minutes and people finally began filing out. Shortly after, none but Yuki, Megumi, the store employees and someone Yuki didn't recognise (perhaps Mibu-san's agent) remained. The moment had arrived.

Removing the glasses and hat, Yuki stepped forward, bowing slightly.

"It is an honour to finally meet you, Mibu-san. I'm Eiri Yuki."

Mibu-san stood, bowing in return. He wore loose navy silk pants, an equally loose white cotton poet's blouse and a long mauve kimono with an intricate floral design over it. It was a strange blend of the traditional and modern, which Mibu-san passed off effortlessly.

I finally meet the man and I evaluate his clothing like some fashion designer.

"It's a pleasure, Eiri-san. And please, call me Oriya, everyone does."

"Thank you. And you can call me Yuki."

The introduction of the others in the room commenced, Yuki paying only a polite amount of attention, too focused on Oriya to care.

"I noticed the turnout was huge, I do hope you didn't find it overwhelming."

"It's been the same in other locations, I believe I am finally becoming accustomed." Oriya spoke quietly, smiling at Yuki in an understated manner.

He has a very flattering smile.

Yuki ignored the voice in his head.

"I'm impressed, I still find it overwhelming. I don't enjoy crowds," Yuki admitted.

Oriya chuckled. "I can't say I do either. I am certainly grateful to know that so many appreciate my writing. I never expected my book to become what it has. Though I do find myself a bit unnerved by so many people and their effusive praises."

"I'm sure Tokyo must be quite a change from Kyoto, so many…eager fans," commented Yuki, remembering what a contrast Oriya's home was from crammed and fast paced Tokyo.

Oriya again chuckled. "Eager is putting it lightly for some of them. There was one young lady who told me she wished I would father her next child. What's frightening is that she was serious."

Hearing Oriya admit something like this made Yuki immediately relax. He'd no idea that the two of them could speak this easily with one another, almost like friends.

"Yes, I've had more than one tell me that, believe it or not. I have quite a few stories of eager fans, many of which are just as embarrassing. I'm grateful to have fans, but I'm glad to go home at night and be rid of them. It's irritating!"

Was Yuki sounding friendly? He was never friendly, not unless he was under the influence and with his family, and even then it was rare. All this talk about over excitable fans, and Yuki was becoming one! He tried to regain his dignity by bringing himself in check.

"Well, shall we go for tea, Oriya?"

Oriya nodded, stepping out from behind the signing table.

"It's Seishin, is it not?" Yuki inquired, making sure.

"Yes sir, the one a few buildings down."

Yuki knew Seishin well, having gone there occasionally.

"We'll be going through the alleyway though, surely. Otherwise you'll be spotted," Yuki pointed out.

Oriya was unaffected. He nudged his chin in the direction of their agents, who stood making small talk with one another.

"They will be walking with us, and the sidewalks shouldn't be so full anymore. I don't feel a need to hide."

These things may have been true, but they didn't mean Yuki felt safe without protection. Which meant wearing the shades and that horrid hat in front of Oriya again. This would be mortifying.

"You're right. It's reassuring, but just in case, I'd better disguise myself a bit."

Yuki slung on the pair of shades and, looking away from Oriya, put on Seguchi's hat. He needn't have been so abashed; Oriya didn't even blink. Instead he touched Yuki on the back of his shoulder, startling him.

"Shall we go, Eiri-san?"

"Yes, please," responded Yuki, ignoring the pleased jolt the touch gave him. "And you can call me Yuki if you'd like"
-----

The teahouse was fairly modern, allowing Yuki to blend in easily in his disguise as he headed to a private table with Oriya. Their agents found their own table to sit at, much to Yuki's relief.

As the two men were being led to Oriya's table, someone approached them. It was a painfully shy elderly woman who seemed to only recognise Oriya.

"Mibu-sama, I hope you don't mind me being presumptuous, but had to tell you, I was so happy to meet you at the signing," she explained in a nervous breathy tone. "It really meant a lot to us fans. And I will always treasure my signed book. Thank you very much."

With teary eyes, she bowed respectfully.

Oriya returned the gesture and warmly smiled. "You are certainly welcome. You have a good evening."

The lady nearly glowed as she left.

Soon the two men were seated, glancing through the menu.
"Honestly, this place is the Starbucks of teahouses, it's ridiculous," Yuki said with slight annoyance.

Oriya watched him evenly and Yuki soon realised why.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Starbucks is an American coffeehouse chain that has a massive selection of coffee types to choose from, all horribly overpriced."

Oriya nodded with understanding. "Ah yes. It's nice though, having so many types to choose from."

"Hmm, I suppose."

Yuki returned his attention to the menu, not knowing what to say. Thankfully a young man came to take their orders soon after, breaking the awkward silence. When he left, the silence returned.

"So, have you always lived in Kyoto?" Yuki ventured.

"I moved there when I was ten. But it's home for me."

"I can see why," agreed Yuki. "It's very nice, very rustic in places. I'd imagine it could be very inspirational for writing."

Oriya's expression turned pensive.

"Actually I could have written my book anywhere, regardless. The story was begging to be told and I had to write it."

Now the conversation was becoming interesting. Finally Yuki could learn the full story of Predatory Dove.

"What inspired it?" Realising how tired this sounded, Yuki added, "I'm sure you must get that a lot, I'm sorry."

Oriya simply gazed at him with that intense gaze of his.

"It's fine. I've never revealed what inspired it to interviewers, giving them a simple 'it just came to me', but I believe I can to you, as you will respect my privacy and not put my quote down in some national magazine. I trust you, Yuki."

Yuki was deeply flattered.

"I'm very honoured that you'd trust me completely, even though you've never even met me before."

Oriya leaned forward slightly.

"With some people you just know."

The young waiter returned, placing a pair of napkins and large teacups on the table.

"The inspiration was not a what, but instead a who," continued Oriya thoughtfully, startling his companion.

"My dearest lifelong friend, whom I will refer to as M, was my greatest inspiration for Yatate. Watching him and his mannerisms, the character of Yatate began to take shape in my mind. I'm afraid the two don't differ quite as much as they should, though not for lack of effort. Thankfully though, M was pleased by the similarities rather than offended."

Yuki nodded, stirring his tea.

"In hindsight, I really believe I should have fictionalised Yatate a great deal more, but that's the beauty of hindsight, isn't it?" He smiled self deprecatingly.

"Even so, I still found Yatate fascinating," Yuki assured.

"Thank you. I was fond of him too, for what it's worth. I spent four years of my life, on and off, constructing his book. I have a large crate at home full of pads, scraps of paper, journals and drafts of and relating to this book. You'd be amazed to see how much effort went into this project. I'm actually sad that it's over: it's become as much a part of me as my arm.

"I have no idea what I'll do with that crate, but I haven't the willpower to empty it. I suppose it'll just have to remain and take up a corner of my room."

Yuki willed himself not to point out how gladly he'd take the crate.

Oriya took a sip of tea and grimaced. "Ow, I'd no idea it was still this hot!"

"It's always like that here. I think they stick those old rusted kettles in live volcanoes to boil the tea."

Oriya laughed, sticking a spoon in the liquid and stirring. His fingers were long and quite thin, Yuki noted. The less than respectable comment his brother always made about men with long fingers flooded into his mind.

"It seems I always manage to get it too cold when I make it," confessed Oriya. "No matter how long I boil it, it seems to cool immediately."

It was time to change the subject, but all that came to mind for Yuki was questions related to the book. Therefore he gave in and voiced one of them. Who needed small talk anyway?

"How old were you when you first met Yatate's inspiration?"

"We were fourteen, which is why Yatate's story begins at about that age. As I said, Yatate was far too closely based on M." Oriya smirked.

"Though we were the same age, I always felt a step below him, both emotionally and intellectually. When he transferred to my school that year, I found him to be so mature, so astute. For this reason, people tended to be unnerved by him, even several of those whom were older. They left him completely alone, sans a few dirty looks from the males, and the few females who didn't fancy him." Oriya winked, and Yuki was sure he only imagined it.

"Anyway, he seemed so lonely. Soon after his arrival I decided I should find some unobtrusive way to offer my hand in friendship. So, I sent him a note in class. I don't remember what it said, but I think it was a drawing of one of the girls in class in the form of an owl, since she practically turned her head completely around whenever she'd turn to stare at him. M smiled when he read it and sent a note back to me. From that afternoon on, we've been close friends."

Yuki took a sip of tea before speaking.

"Were you hesitant to make this story as personal as you did?"

Oriya tilted his head thoughtfully, dabbing at a drop of tea on the table with a napkin.

"Yes, both for invading M's privacy and revealing so much of myself and my feelings towards M to the world. In one fell swoop I removed all covering, stripping us both nude."

Before Yuki's mind could remind him it was metaphorical, he felt his pulse quicken.

Hiding a smirk behind his teacup Oriya quipped, "Perhaps I should have made a less graphic comparison. Though I'm glad to have given you such… exciting mental images."

Yuki's cheeks grew hot, and he had a feeling the tea had nothing to do with it. And here he'd assumed blushing was something he outgrew!

Oriya chuckled behind his napkin.

"With all due respect, my flushed skin has nothing to do with your metaphor," Yuki bluffed. "It 's this drink, they're trying to scald me!"

Oriya's eyes glittered with amusement and his small smirk remained.

"Understandable, it is quite hot."

It was obvious from his tone that he'd seen straight through Yuki's lie. It was time to return to the topic at hand before Yuki could feel anymore like a bumbling schoolboy.

"You can tell from reading Predatory Dove that it's from another party's POV; yours obviously. Did you make a cameo in there anywhere that I overlooked?"

"I do believe you have missed your true calling, Yuki. Your questions are worded in exactly the same manner as any interviewer's would be."

Due to Oriya's charming tone, Yuki could not tell whether this was a complement or not. He got the feeling it wasn't.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound like that."

Oriya shrugged. "It's fine. No, I don't make a cameo, not that I'd need to. I believe I made my presence known throughout, perhaps becoming a touch too intrusive at times."

"I wouldn't say so," argued Yuki, before waxing philosophical for a moment. "You gave it a humanistic edge, preventing it from being yet another run of the mill horror novel. Predatory Dove came in and uncovered so many things in my mind, turning them over to show sides I'd never even seen before. I don't even like anything anywhere near the realm of horror. I still don't know why I bothered picking it up. But it's like it picked me, like it actually called out to me and told me this was meant to become a part of me."

Oriya leaned forward, stirring his tea thoughtfully.

"I wanted there to be something in Yatata that evoked empathy in everyone. I hoped if the reader saw him with the beauty that I do, he'd cease to be a villain and become simply a dark manifestation of ourselves; the part of our souls we keep bound and locked in the closet. Our eyes avoid seeing the hideous creature when we're forced to open the closet, because we fear its form mirrors ours. If our eyes meet its own, will there be pleading for release within them? And will we be compelled to unbind it, releasing its powers upon the world?"

Despite the warmth of the room and the beverage before him, Yuki shivered, wishing he were wearing his coat. Perhaps it could protect him from the disturbing truth to his words, the memories being ripped like a scar from his mind. Not that he really believed a solution so simple existed.

For what seemed like the millionth time, an uncomfortable silence fell.

"So… did it disturb you to write the murders featured in the story? Because they were certainly unsettling to read, eerily realistic."

Oriya sipped his tea, pondering.

"It saddened me. The more graphic the atrocities, the more they disturbed me. Despite being the one to create them, I began to feel like a helpless spectator, crying out and begging for mercy to be given and yet remaining bound and forced to watch everything progress. I actually couldn't sleep the night after the details of the rape and torture of Keiko revealed themselves to me. Seeing that face in my mind, of a child so young in such agony…it was overwhelming. I mean I already knew her in the sense that she was a real to me before this event, but I hadn't let myself think about what I'd be putting her through. It was too painful."

If Keiko had felt real in the story, she felt so real now that Yuki could actually see the girl in his mind's eye, crying out for the relief of death. How the child survived the abuse and torture was beyond him. And her having to suffer with cancer for three years afterwards just made it worse.

"I'm sure many of the readers found themselves despising Yatata in those moments," Yuki commented. "He's a monster, completely devoid of humanity and completely deserving of contempt. I know how I could care for him initially, given his past, but I still can't understand why that sympathy didn't disappear with the first murder. I wanted to loathe him, to rip him to shreds for what he did to so many innocents. But instead I pitied him for his emptiness. I didn't understand how he could become so hateful, nor did I care, but I just found myself watching him with this intense morbid curiosity and apprehension.

"You know Oriya, I'd like to say he and I are so separate that any similarities are improbable, but I know better. I've seen that creature in the closet and let it out before. If I hadn't bound that thing up well enough afterwards it could have consumed me, as it has Yatata. As Yatata proves, sometimes things are broken beyond repair and just break into smaller and smaller pieces until nothing is left."

The words seem to be written for all to see, raw bloody scratches carved into Yuki's livid soul. It was too much for the man and he busied himself, patting his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. Finally he located them and pulled a stick out of the box and into his mouth with suddenly clumsy fingers. Manners returned to him and he glanced at Oriya, silent asking Oriya if he minded his smoking. Oriya nodded his acceptance, even taking a beautiful brass lighter out from his trouser pocket. He flicked the flame to life and lit, as Yuki jokingly called it occasionally, his cancer stick.

Oriya remained in that position, leaning towards Yuki with the flaming lighter and watching him fixedly, until eventually pulling back in his seat and killing the flame.

"I'd join you, but I don't believe what I smoke is exactly…prudent in this environment," he said jokingly.

Yuki was curious what exactly Oriya smoked, but the man soon answered that question himself.

"Dragons need a chance to fly without being pursued sometimes, after all."

"Good to know you haven't let the classics die out." Yuki joked, watching the smoke drift through the air.

Oriya didn't respond, simply continuing to watch Yuki attentively as he took a drag.

"I take it this story is deeply personal to you," murmured Oriya. "I won't ask why as I certainly do not need to know such a thing. But I do believe it's helped you connect to this story more intimately than it could for most other readers, and even myself. If I may say so, I get the feeling this book was cathartic for you, in at least a small way."

Slowly Yuki exhaled the smoke, gazing away from the man across from him. When he spoke, his words were quiet, almost gentle.

"It was. There's something comforting in walking the path not taken and seeing where it could lead. As personal as your writing style is, the readers can not only see themselves in the victims, but in Yatata as well, which, I don't mind saying, was a rather disturbing revelation to come to."

He took a sip of tea, finding it to be ice cold.

"I should think so," Oriya agreed. "I imagine you can see part of why I fictionalised this. If readers believed there was any realism to any of it, it would be all the worse for them. So I let them believe nothing of the book but a few characteristics of Yatata were real. No one wants to consider such a twisted man actually being real, walking amongst them, smiling at them and exchanging pleasantries with them. Just because they identify with the character doesn't mean they could identify with the man because he's just too horrible to exist in this world."

A cold sensation came over Yuki, not helped by the powerful look he was receiving from Oriya. A shadow of a question he didn't want answered floated into Yuki's mind, too vague and frightening to look at.

"Very true, a realistic villain is frightening, but a real villain is far worse."

Yuki's words were empty, something to grasp onto to buy time before falling into the dark place he sensed himself sinking into.

"Yes, lies are comforting," Oriya calmly asserted.

The chill grew worse as Yuki searched for another cigarette. His movements ceased as Oriya grabbed his hands under the table to still them. Yuki tensed.

"Muraki Kazutaka," whispered Oriya, his tea scented breath just inches away from Yuki's face. "I thought you should hear it from me because you'll never hear it from anyone else. He's careful, planting clues for those he wishes to tease and keeping them from those he'd rather not. And what is found is never spoken of; forgotten, lost, or pinned on other people. Everyone has their secrets, and people are willing to do anything to keep them, even if it means keeping other people's when they should really be shared. If they are not willing or have their own secrets so deeply buried that they can't be found and potentially revealed, a little…compensation goes a long way."

A shudder ran through Yuki and he instinctively pulled out of the man's grasp. The book was too terrifying to be real, how could it not be fiction?

"And…and you were the one doing it, weren't you? Everything he got away with was because of you!"

Oriya looked away, ashamed.

"No, he's smart, he handled it without me most of the time. Way back with the first murder, that cat his half brother left behind, I told him how that side of him scared me and refused to ever clean up his messes unless there was no way around it. I hate it when I do it and I should have cut off all contact with him back with the cat. I should have known it would only get worse, but sometimes I'd look at him and see the gentle boy I once knew and loved. When you're with someone as they fall, it's different than coming in later. It can change everything."

Yuki was amazed to see the moisture forming in the corner of Oriya's eyes, the fragility in his expression. All Yuki's earlier fear and disgust dissipated in an instant. Sensing the man was nearing breaking point and wanting to spare him an audience, Yuki stood, quickly doling out a tip for the waiter.

"Look, I'm just going to go pay this bill at the counter and then we can slip out the back, okay?" Yuki hoped his voice didn't sound too gruff; he'd never been good at offering comfort.

The man got to his feet, thanking Yuki.

When Yuki returned, Oriya seemed a bit more pulled together than he had been before. In silence the two walked through the back of the restaurant and out the door, receiving a few odd looks as they passed the kitchen. It felt so wrong to be going to the dumpsters, but it was better than parading Oriya through the restaurant.

The back of the building proved to be surprisingly clean and well lit, much to Yuki's relief. There were even a few old lawn chairs, which Yuki guessed employees added to make cigarette breaks more comfortable. The two settled into the chairs.

"I know why you did this, Yuki, and I appreciate it," Oriya said softly.

"Well it was so damned hot and stuffy in there, I knew if I didn't get out I'd go crazy," lied Yuki, still feeling a bit shaken.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, each lost in thought.

"It was only once I helped him," Oriya eventually admitted. "With the cat he asked me to help him clean the blood stains from the carpet the day his aunt came to pick him up, about a week after Saki's death. She was very close to Saki and knew that big fluffy cat was the only thing he ever loved. She planned to adopt it along with Muraki when she picked him up. Obviously she knew nothing of the circumstances of Saki's death; either that or she refused to.

"Having seen Muraki kill that cat so brutally, I was too horrified to help him afterwards. That's when I told him I'd have nothing to do with anything that horrible, unless there was no way around it, as I mentioned earlier. Muraki respected that, and never again asked me until those incidents at the end of the book with the girls.

"You know, sometimes you find yourself in places you never planned to be, doing things you never planned on doing. You're aware they're wrong, but you don't care, as justified as you feel doing them at that time. If you look at things objectively, even the most inexcusable things can and are excused. It's necessity, a need to be able to face yourself in the mirror without shattering the glass. It may go against all mankind has been taught to think, but I believe our sins define us, shaping us into our eventual forms, and, if we harness that darkness, making us into more beautiful human beings.

"I can't say this has done this in my case, as I'm not a person in any way admirable, but it has for you. If it hadn't, you'd have never read my book in the first place. And even if you had, you'd have thrown it down in disgust after the first chapter, wanting nothing more to do with Yatata."

Yuki watched the man staring so intently at him, wondering how his eyes, his ordinary, medium brown eyes, could make Yuki feel as if he were dissected with each body part lying on a table to be pried at and pulled apart. He also wondered why this calmed him.

Oriya placed his hand over Yuki's, the action feeling far more comforting to Yuki this time.

"How old are you Yuki?" inquired Oriya in a soothing tone. "With all you've apparently endured, you must be far younger than you appear."

Yuki couldn't explain why, but he felt a small sense of tragedy when he replied.

Oriya eyes widened as he leaned closer, examining Yuki's features with astonishment.

"I'm sorry for my rude reaction, but I'd no idea you were only twenty-one. Had you asked me to guess, I'd have assumed you were twenty-five at the very youngest.

"I must say, I've always been in the same in place in life, having always felt decades older than the calendar insists I am. But then again, I think it lies." He winked at Yuki.

The corners of Yuki's lips turned up of their own volition, forming what could almost be considered a smile.

Leaning even closer to Yuki, Oriya brushed a shock of hair from Yuki's eyes, eliciting a soft, but embarrassing, gasp.

"I hope we'll meet again, Eiri Yuki. With all the childish feuds and competitions amongst fellow writers, it would be nice if we could start a friendship."

Yuki nodded, willing to agree to that and far more.

With the newfound knowledge about the man before him, Yuki believed he should feel disgusted by him. But instead his initial admiration and unwitting attraction merely grew, trying to boil over.

Ever since…then, Eiri Yuki was a man of control, refusing any future bouts of weakness. If he wanted something, he went for it, just as he refused it if he didn't. He'd come to believe in controlling his own destiny and made sure to always do just that. Thus he found himself suddenly cupping his companion's chin, pressing his lips to Oriya's and urging the man's lips open with his tongue.

A meek, desperate voice inside Yuki begged the man not to resist his advances, but it needn't have worried. Oriya parted his lips wide, weaving his fingers through Yuki's hair to beckon him closer.

Perfection. The word repeated in Yuki's mind until, all too soon, Oriya pulled away.

The man smiled at him with contentment and a hint of dissipating lust.

"Thank you, Yuki. I could have never initiated it without seeming presumptuous."

He got to his feet as Yuki followed suit.

"If you'll mail me the book, I'll gladly sign it for you and send it back," offered Oriya.

"I actually have it in my coat pocket," Yuki mumbled, getting it out and handing it over to him. "I thought it might be good to have with me, in case I wanted to refer to it at any point."

It was true, but Yuki still felt a bit silly having brought it.

"Do you happen to have a pen?" Oriya asked. Yuki fished one out of a pocket, making sure to brush against Oriya's fingers as much as possible as he handed it over.

Oriya returned to his seat and began writing what appeared to be a very long message on the inner cover of the book. Yuki stared into the distance, allowing the man his privacy.

Soon enough Oriya was back on his feet, handing the book and pen to Yuki and bowing.

"I'd better go. Thank you for seeking me out, I know now I'd have missed out on a lot if my agent hadn't done his best to convince me you were worth meeting. Take care and keep writing. I must admit your novels have become a guilty pleasure of mine."

There was something about having a best selling novelist of a book that might eventually be considered a classic, calling your book a guilty pleasure, that really made a man feel inferior. Not that this was Oriya's intention, of course.

Yuki didn't let any of it show.

"I'm glad you appreciate them. Hopefully if I can get my editor and agent off my back about churning out romance novels, I can eventually write something as compelling as Predatory Dove. It was a honour meeting you, Mibu Oriya."

Yuki bowed, and the gesture was returned.

"Likewise. Goodbye, Eiri Yuki."

With a parting glance, Oriya went back inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.
----

A short time later when Yuki returned home, he was surprised and a bit bothered to find his sofa occupied by a short, cheerful blond gentleman.

"Hello Eiri-san, I trust everything went well."

"Really Seguchi," Yuki said, sighing. "You know I hate when you just invite yourself over, it's damned creepy. I don't even know how any of you people know how to get up here when I'm out, I highly doubt I told anyone how. And yes, it went well."

He threw the hat over, Frisbee style, to his brother-in-law, who caught it.

"You didn't get recognised in this, did you?" Seguchi called out as Yuki entered the kitchen.

"Ha, like anyone would think I'd be idiotic enough to wear a tacky thing like that," scoffed Yuki, taking out a pair of drinks from the refrigerator. "In the future I'm just wearing the shades."

Yuki came to sit beside Seguchi on the sofa, placing the drinks in front of them. Seguchi smiled, thanking him wordlessly.

"They showed the signing on the news briefly. The shop was amazingly full. And they gave a glimpse of Mibu-san. He's much younger than I'd have guessed, probably only a few years older than me."

Yuki made a non-committal sound, having no reply to this.

"So, did you gain any insight into who Mibu-san really is?"

You're going to keep asking questions until I tell you everything, aren't you Seguchi?

"Yeah, I guess."

Yuki turned away, pulling the book from his pocket. Perhaps if he read Oriya's dedication now Seguchi would get the hint and leave him alone.

He opened the book, facing lines of messy characters that took up nearly half the page.

"Would you like me to fetch your reading glasses for you Eiri-san?"

"Yes, that would be helpful," he ground out, angry at his own stupidity. Things only became more embarrassing when Seguchi actually put them on Yuki's face for him.

"I could have done that."

Seguchi took a sip of beer, his mood still unfailingly upbeat.

"Oh yes, I know."

With a growl under his breath, Yuki began reading Oriya's inscription.

To my reader and friend, Eiri Yuki,

There's no reason for me to personalise this book for you. You've done the job so thoroughly yourself, more so than perhaps any other reader out there. But despite, I felt I should take the time to thank you in as profound a manner as I could.

With your newfound knowledge of myself and the validity of my book, I believed your respect and admiration for me would be lost instantly. Yet I was wrong. Though you were obviously taken aback and alarmed, you eventually came around, showing me an unconditional tolerance I had not earned.

I doubt you are aware of how kind and virtuous a man you are underneath it all, but you showed me today, and for that I am grateful. I feel privileged to have met the benevolent person within the shell, the one I doubt more than a select few have ever seen.

Please, enjoy this book over and over again. If ever I write another, I will be writing it as much for you as for myself.

Peace be with you,

Oriya

It was the kindest thing anyone ever written to Yuki, next to the long letter of support Seguchi gave him right after that nightmare years ago. This wouldn't be the last bit of contact Yuki would have with Oriya, he'd make sure of that.

Yuki became aware of newfound weight as Seguchi rested his head on Yuki's shoulder. There was something rather disconcerting about the man's blatant romantic interest in him, but at the same time something comfortably familiar about it.

"He obviously thinks as highly of you as I do," murmured Seguchi. Yuki stiffened.

"You read that?"

Pulling back from Yuki, the man apologised.

"But I am glad someone else made the effort to know you as well I do," added Seguchi. "More people should find out what a warm, sensitive man you really are."

From his light tone, Yuki could tell Seguchi knew this would get under his skin and enjoyed seeing it happen.

Yuki took a large gulp of beer. One had to be well on the way to being drunk to avoid being infuriated by Seguchi Tohma.

"You would do best to shut up, my 'dear' brother."

Seguchi shrugged, unfazed.

"Yes, I suppose I would."

The End