Welcome. Hello!

I know you probably don't appreciate anyone telling you what to do. And I get that. I do. But please take some advice from someone who knows these stories inside out. That's me. Hi! Hello there.

1) If you have just finished reading the fic my advice to you is: go and have a break! Go. Go away. There's other stuff you're meant to be doing, right? You're supposed to be sleeping, or working, or washing up, right? Right. Go. Go do that stuff now.

Why? Because you won't appreciate this Appendix if you're just forced your way through 12 whole chapters plus the epilogue. R+J is a very intense story. This appendix is a little more subtle. It is long (you'll need at least an hour to read it). It is a story on its own. You aren't missing out on anything. No massive revelations here. Romeo and Juliet is a completed story. This is just a kind of… spin off ;)

So step back. Take a break. Clear your mind. Come back to this later. Tomorrow. The day after. Honestly. You'll enjoy it more. You'll thank me for it. Trust me.

2) If you've totally forgotten what happens in the fic because you read it years ago, then why not take this opportunity to go back and read it again? ;) I have fully edited it over the past few days. EVERY single chapter has been edited, tweaked, and re-uploaded (every single one!) so it ought to be a better read than it was last time. It has taken me hours and hours. I did this FOR YOU so you could GO BACK and enjoy the story all over again. You're welcome.

3) If you remember the fic and you're ready to go back in time, forward in time, sideways in time (is that possible?) and learn a little more about the House of Rukawa then by all means find a comfy chair, make sure you have an hour or so to spare, and then follow me on this little tour of the life of Kiminobu Kogure. It's been eight years since I uploaded the epilogue, so it makes a nice neat feeling to set this story eight years into the future. I'm so happy you're here. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy it :)

All the best,

- Star

PS Many thanks to Amurtaht who 1) finally inspired me to write this and 2) very kindly proof read it and put up with all my annoying questions

NB: The quotations in bold are taken from Shakespeare's Anthony and Cleopatra.

A Romeo and Juliet Story
Appendix 1 - Kogure Kiminobu

This common body,

Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,

Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide,

To rot itself with motion.

He pushed the cork between his teeth. At once his throat felt dry. He breathed steadily though his mouth. It sounded noisy in the quiet of the night. He gripped with his teeth, sinking them into the soft material so they stuck.

"Ahhhhhh-" the sound in his throat was half pain and half pleasure. He screwed his eyes closed tight, letting the feeling drift through him, savouring every second of it. Too soon it faded.

He made to remove the cork, but at the last moment he hesitated. Once more.

Once more wouldn't make a difference.

One more time and that would be enough.

He shifted to a better position, bracing his feet against the wall, his back to the toilet bowl, letting his head fall back a little, a pleasant stretch in his throat.

"Uggggnnnh-!" The gag did little to mask that one, his toes curling, every muscle winding taut and then collapsing again in happy exhaustion. He panted around the cork, the lingering taste of red wine filling his mouth.

He flexed his fingers.

Just... just one more. Hisashi would be furious but...

...but he just needed to...

...just one more.

It would be okay.

His breathing came in anxious pants.

"Okay..." he muttered around his gag, "...quietly, quietly, hah, hah, hah, ah, ah, NNNGH!"

His eyes went sightless. The world went white. Good. Good. Diabolically good. Ah. Ah. He tipped sideways but didn't care. His face pressed against the cold floor. Saliva dribbled on his chin. There was blood all over the bathroom mat.

Oh. Oh. Ngh. Ngh. Ah, hah, hah, hah, god, god, ah, ah! His fingers pattered across his skin and pressed down hard. He sucked in his breath in a sharp, blissful rush-

"Sempai?"

His eyes flew open.

No. No, no, no.

He tried to get up, but the sensations still held him, and he felt dizzy from the blood loss. The cork bobbed and shook between his teeth. He let out a groan.

Don't look.

"Leave me alone," he tried to say through the gag but his words were only meaningless sounds. He clutched his arm defensively.

Kaede entered and crouched on the bloody mat beside him, helping him upright, pulling the wet, bloody blade from his slack fingers. He gently extracted the cork from between his teeth.

"Don't cry," he whispered. "It's okay. You're okay, sempai."

Kogure was too unsteady to sit up, so he slumped forward against Kaede's chest. He realised he was crying.

He let out an ugly, racking sob. His eyes were red and swollen, his pyjamas already soaked with his tears. He sniffled loudly, a miserable sound, and pressed his nose into Kaede's shoulder.

"Uhh," he moaned helplessly, his shoulders shaking with his sobs. "Uh, uh, hah hah, uuh."

Kaede put his arms around him and rocked him soothingly, right and left, right and left. The blood soaked into their clothes. Kaede wasn't sure what to say, but it seemed to be enough. Kogure's distress slowly quieted into soft whimpers.

Eventually they sat in silence.

"I... I'm sorry," he whispered finally, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to... I wasn't going to, but then I..."

Kaede only shook his head. "It's okay, sempai. I'm not scared of the dark either."

Kogure clutched him tightly, still struggling through his storm. "Please..." he began anxiously.

Kaede set a kiss against his temple. "I won't tell him."

Kogure gave a hiccup. "...thank you."

And though thou thinkst me poor, I am the man

Will give thee all the world.

"You asked to see me, Sendoh-sama?"

Sendoh Akira turned his eyes on the man who'd just descended the library steps, one hand still frozen in place above the drawer he had been perusing.

"Yasuda," he acknowledged him. "I can't seem to find the file I'm looking for."

"Oh?" Yasuda tilted his head. "Then please, allow me to assist you."

Akira nodded. "I was hoping to read about the Kogure family," he said.

Yasuda looked a little surprised.

It had been a few days now since Kaede had had that strange episode in the memorial garden. Sendoh could clearly remember the feeling of holding him helpless and trembling in his arms. It was so unlike him to allow his sorrow to overcome him, to lose himself to his pain. The recollection of his distress bothered Akira still. They'd talked. They'd talked for hours. More, Akira guessed, than they ever had before. All on that one topic; Kogure Kiminobu. Yes, he knew that Kaede was trying hard to be open, to be honest, to acknowledge his feelings such as they were. He was making an effort to pull Akira in, deeper and closer to his heart. And Akira was grateful for it. Happy, even, that Kaede would share with him with some of the most private and precious of his memories. But communication had never been one of Kaede's more adept skills.

If I... knew more. Understood more. Perhaps I could do more for him.

I hate seeing him in so much pain.

I'd give anything to take his sorrow away.

He drummed his fingers absent-mindedly on the side of the filling cabinet.

"I want to know more about Kogure Kiminobu," he added to Yasuda.

Yasuda spread his hands helplessly. "There is no Kogure family," he explained. "But I can certainly find material for you about Kogure-san, if it helps."

"Oh." Akira nodded. "Okay then. Fine."

"Please," Yasuda offered him one of the chairs at the central desk. "I'll just be a moment."

Akira sat down as Yasuda scurried off to find the files in question.

There is no Kogure family? That seems a little... odd.

Yasuda soon returned with two folders, and placed them on the desk. One was marked with Kaede's name. The other with Hisashi's. Kogure's name did not appear anywhere.

Akira frowned. "What are these?"

Yasuda flipped one file open and showed him.

Photographs. Hundreds and hundreds of photographs. Kaede and Kiminobu. Hisashi and Kiminobu. The three of them together.

Akira peered at them.

"This is really useful but... is there anything more... substantial? Documentation? Dates? Facts?"

Yasuda produced one more file. It was blank apart from the reference number and, judging by the thickness of it, empty.

"This is all there is. His personal file."

Akira took it in confusion. It contained only two items. One was a single sheet of paper, a lab test report from a local hospital showing a clean bill of health, although even that had no patient name inscribed. The other was a bloody picture of the basement where he had died; the body had been removed but the spray of blood across the floor remained. It turned Akira's stomach a little. There was nothing else inside the file.

Like he didn't exist.

"Why is his name not written here?"

Yasuda looked awkward. "I'm not totally sure, but I've heard that Kogure wasn't actually his real name."

Akira stared at him. "Really? Then what was his real name?"

"I don't know. If anyone knows..." Yasuda frowned, "...probably it would be Rukawa-sama."

Akira held back his sigh. Facts were obviously too much to ask if they didn't even know his name.

Besides, Kaede never calls him anything except "sempai".

He turned back to the photographs and began to shuffle through them. A few stood out. Some he even recognised from the few things Kaede had told him.

A boat on the lake with two figures. Children playing out on the lawn beneath the branches of the wizened old evergreen. A blurry picture of Hisashi on a BMX. The grand staircase that still looked exactly the same, with the three youths lined up, Kogure Kiminobu smiling between the two serious brothers.

Akira began to sort them out into rows, attempting to piece together some sort of story, from the meagre scraps Kaede had whispered to him, fleshed out by the snapshots in full colour. Some blurred with motion and movement. Some focused, still, pointed. But everywhere he saw Kogure Kiminobu's soft smile. There seemed to be nothing but sweetness in him. Nothing but sun, and light, and happiness.

What are you hiding? He asked Kiminobu through the pictures. Behind that mask of yours?

It's been eight years. Eight years since you put a gun in your mouth. And yet you linger on, in Kaede's thoughts, his nightmares.

Why won't you let him go?

I've never seen anything bring Kaede to his knees.

Except you. You.

Who... are you?

He picked up the nearest picture; a busy scene outside a night club, Hisashi and Kiminobu sharing an umbrella. Akira stared at the image for a long time, his eyes pouring over the scene. They were standing close together, Hisashi's hand on Kogure's hip, an elated smile wound across Kogure's face, even Hisashi looked happy.

Akira closed his eyes and wondered.

Come, my queen.

The leather felt tight and restricting, like a second skin. It gripped him and held him in an embrace. Unforgiving. Always present in the back of his mind, restricting his movements, making him aware of himself; his own body, his desires.

His thighs slid together, the soft leather gliding smoothly.

Beside him, Hisashi couldn't keep his eyes away.

"You look good tonight."

Kogure tilted his head and sent him a small seductive smile. He was dressed his best; all black, tight and gothic. Just how Hisashi liked him. A silver pendant hung around his neck, his boots laced up to his thighs, his pale arms bare to the shoulders, the leather clinging to every curve. He felt a thrill of anticipation; he was planning to have fun.

The Mercedes whisked them quickly down the drizzly streets, windscreen wipers moving slowly. Shops and restaurants that he'd never been to. Roads and footpaths he'd never walk. The flashing indicators, red brake lights, bright street lamps were all far away and irrelevant to him.

His world was small, and he was sitting right beside him.

Hisashi leaned across and held out his hand. In the centre of his palm sat a little white pill. He offered it silently.

Kogure wrinkled his nose. "I thought you didn't trust that stuff."

"This came in today," Hisashi explained. "Perfectly pure. You've never had anything like it. Try it."

Kogure opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue obediently. Hisashi set the pill on the tip, and Kogure swallowed it. He smiled luxuriantly.

The car finally drew up in front of the club, and they stepped out onto a blue carpet covering the sidewalk. It squelched damply under Kogure's boots. A long queue of umbrellas snaked around the edge of the building, and numerous faces peered out from underneath, turning towards them in curiosity, wondering who they were. Hisashi put his hand on Kogure's hip and swept him quickly in through the main door. Tetsuo, Ryu, and a couple of others followed close behind. The bouncer, with his hand pressed against the communicator in his ear, offered them a low bow. "Rukawa-sama."

Kogure leaned in to Hisashi's ear. "Do we own this club?"

Hisashi grinned. "Sure we do."

The thump of the music grew louder as they passed the doors. The vibrations sank through Kogure right into his core.

The passed into the main hall and he felt his breath steal away. The crowd was pumping and writhing, spread out and sprawling, one huge organism made magical by the flashing lights that caught it's thrashing body in shocks of blue, purple and green.

His hips seemed to catch the rhythm, his heart pounding with the intrusive beat, his body moving beyond his control. He loved it. He pulled excitedly on Hisashi's arm, hoping to tug him towards the crowded dance floor, but Hisashi was already busy talking to a couple of men in suits. Their little name tags showed they were management.

"Later. Let's go up to the balcony first."

Hiding his disappointment, Kogure followed them up the stairs to the quiet VIP lounge. A second bouncer opened the velvet rope to allow them in. It had been reserved for Hisashi and was empty apart from them. A long bar with two barmen, fronted by a row of empty barstools. A few tall standing tables in glass and chrome in the centre of the floor. No one stood at them. Some more intimate seating had been arranged with sofas and cushions, but no one sat there either. Compared to the energy downstairs, it struck Kogure as sadly lonely.

Hisashi took a seat on the largest plush sofa set in the centre of the room, while the suits remained standing beside him, speaking to him about something or other. Two stunningly beautiful girls appeared from the back, dressed in little more than lingerie, and offered Hisashi tall drinks from a tray. They didn't offer anything to Kogure - they didn't seem to notice him.

One girl, perhaps feeling bold, sat beside Hisashi, pressing out her breasts and crossing her legs to reveal the shapeliness of her thighs, the place between her legs covered with the merest sliver of lace, promising, tantalising. With barely even a glance at her, Hisashi reached out to twirl his fingers into her long, shimmering hair. She looked like she might purr with contentment. She pressed closer, offering herself eagerly. The second girl - no less beautiful than the first - took her own cue and sat at Hisashi's other side, trailing her fingers over his thigh, sending him seductive looks through her lashes.

Kogure didn't mind. He went over to lean on the rail so he could look down on the club, the sea of people pumping and swirling with the music, the lights, the feeling of euphoria. He couldn't keep it out of his body. His hips moved automatically with the music.

He could feel Hisashi's eyes tracing the shape of him. Kogure smiled a little to himself, feeling unexpectedly wild. He lifted his pale arm, ran his fingers through his hair and relished Hisashi's gaze. The marks and scars on his arms had faded to mostly nothing. He looked good. He knew it.

"Kiminobu," he was summoned finally, and he turned back towards his lover with a lingering smile. Hisashi's arms were draped around the two girls, his hands on their bare skin, inattentively massaging their soft flesh. The two suits were still talking at him. He wasn't listening.

Instead, everything about Hisashi was tuned into Kogure Kiminobu. His eyes. His ears. His voice. His body. He gestured him closer and Kogure walked his way, the motion of his hips hypnotising, his eyes teasing.

He climbed onto Hisashi's lap, bringing them nose to nose, his knees forcing the surprised girls a little further away.

"Yes?" he asked softly.

Hisashi was amused. "Kiminobu, you're high."

"And who's fault is that?"

Hisashi laughed, held his chin and kissed his lips softly. Kogure sensed the girls exchanging a look over his head and he almost purred himself.

"Why don't you go and dance? I know you want to. I'll just be a little longer. I will watch you from here."

"Okay-" Kogure's smile shimmered in the lights. "I'll put on a good show for you."

Hisashi's eyes reflected his image. "I can't wait."

Now I feed myself

With most delicious poison.

Kogure descended the stairs again and threaded his way between the pounding bodies, feeling himself filled to the brim with loud and living euphoria. Alive.

His eyes glanced up towards the balcony above but it was not possible to see who was there from below. He wondered if Hisashi really was watching him. He recalled the girls and the suits keeping him busy, and regretfully suspected not. But he wasn't concerned. He would dance for him regardless.

He drifted away through the crowd, pulled by natural ebbs and currents, his body moving lithely, raising his arms, showing off the perfection of his form. He twisted and snaked and spun seductively. He threw his head back and lost himself in the ecstasy of the beat. He was gorgeous and wild and alone.

He closed his eyes and moaned softly to himself, feeling aroused by his own motions, the restricting feeling of the leather on his skin, the promise of Hisashi's eyes on him, and the thoughts of what Hisashi might do to him later.

A second song. A third. He didn't really remember where he was. A fourth. He threw his hands out and up in wildness. Time was passing but he didn't care. Everything seemed trivial compared to the beat.

Then, finally, a warm body pressed against his back and he turned happily towards Hisashi, eager to greet him, hold him, kiss his lips.

Except, he saw, it wasn't Hisashi.

He laughed then. It struck him as being very funny.

"Hello, beautiful," the man leaned in close. He was large and strong, with a leather jacket and jeans. Just the kind of man who liked to follow Hisashi around. Just the kind of man Kiminobu was used to. "What are you doing here all alone?" He had to shout to be heard above the music.

"Dancing," Kiminobu answered loudly, showing him by lifting his arms again and moving his body enticingly. "I love dancing!" He threw his arms drunkenly wide and spun on the spot. "Don't you?"

The man caught his hips and held him still, sending him a smile.

"Where's your boyfriend?"

Kogure continued to sway. "What boyfriend?" He giggled, arching his back, letting the man marvel at his body. The way it spun, the way it teased, the way it-

"You're Rukawa's whore, aren't you?" the man said into his ear.

He smiled. The music was in him, and the lights were spinning him around. There could be nothing wrong.

"I'm nobody's whore," he announced, letting the man press up against him, loving him, wanting him.

The man nodded to someone behind him, and that someone seized Kogure's wrists and held them up.

He couldn't dance so easily any more. That annoyed him a little. He tried to turn but the second man behind him was tall and strong too. His arms were held up above his head and no matter what the music demanded, he couldn't move them or wave them in time with the beat

He began to feel vulnerable, pressed helplessly between these two large men. And yet still his body moved and his hips swayed and his head turned playfully to the music.

He focused his eyes on the man standing before him and cast him a seductive smile.

"Who are you?" he asked inquisitively, sweetly, as if he wasn't being held captive by those large, powerful hands.

The man leaned down closer. "We're the ones who're gonna fuck you up."

Kogure couldn't help it; he laughed right in his face. "Are you new around here?" he asked, the laughter still skipping on his tongue. "Or are you just a moron?"

"Watch your mouth, bitch."

Kogure's smile didn't slip. "I'll give you one last chance," he ran his tongue teasingly over his teeth. "Don't blame me for what happens after that."

In answer, the man's large, intrusive hand took hold of his crotch and squeezed hard. Little pinpricks of tears stung in Kogure's eyes although he couldn't feel the pain at all. He struggled experimentally but couldn't free his hands from that strong grip. He began to feel a little bit aroused.

"They say pain makes you cum," the man said into his ear. "I can't wait to test if it's true."

Kogure only laughed again and arched his back alluringly. "Do your best," he whispered darkly.

They forced him through the throng of dancers, making for the doors, not releasing their hold on him, keeping him helpless. They were bigger, and stronger, than he was. Kogure tried to keep up with the beat of the music but they made him stumble and feel awkward. The dance fell apart. He glanced up to the balcony and worried that Hisashi would be disappointed that he wasn't dancing. But then, he reflected, Hisashi had seemed pretty busy. He probably hadn't noticed.

They whisked out past the bouncer and back into the street. The line was still long. Kogure slipped a little on the wet pavement. There was thin, cold sleet falling from the sky.

"Well, that was easy enough," the man holding his wrists commented. "What are we gonna do with him now?"

"Let's take him back with us. We can fuck him until his boyfriend pays us to stop."

Kogure let out a chilling giggle and the two men stared at him.

"Come on. Just get him to the car."

They'd only gone about ten metres down the road, pulling Kogure along between them, when Tetsuo stepped out of the alleyway ahead of them, his arms folded across his chest. He stood like a wall in the centre of the pavement. Ryu followed, holding an umbrella.

The men with Kogure continued forwards towards them.

"Get out of the way," one of them said threateningly, gesturing angrily with one hand.

Tetsuo ignored him. "Rukawa-sama?" He asked enquiringly instead, looking right past them.

The two men looked back.

Hisashi was following quietly along behind them, one hand in his pocket, an umbrella propped on one shoulder. He didn't really look like much. A man, no taller or stronger than any other man.

But he was the world. Kogure knew it.

And right now his expression was dark and dangerous. Just the way Kogure liked him best.

A warm sigh of pleasure passed his lips.

Take but good note, and you shall see in him

The triple pillar of the world.

Hisashi tossed his head casually towards the alleyway, and at once Tetsuo and Ryu seized the two men and dragged them between the buildings.

Hisashi took careful hold of Kogure who immediately sunk into his embrace and began nuzzling his neck.

"Are you hurt?"

"Hold me" Kogure moaned in his ear. "Fuck me, Hisashi. Hisashi, I love you."

Hisashi rolled his eyes in vague amusement.

"Kiminobu, you're still high."

Kogure moaned softly, barring his teeth against Hisashi's collarbone. "Am I?" He bit down gently, worrying Hisashi's shoulder with his teeth.

Hisashi's hand gripped the back of his head possessively as Kiminobu sucked on his neck. "Don't you want to see the show?"

Kogure pulled back and looked up, his lips wet, his eyes turning bright with anticipation. Hisashi offered his arm, and escorted him into the alley where the two men were on the receiving end of his justice.

Ryu was stomping repeatedly on one man's stomach, while Tetsuo was in the middle of grinding the other's jaw under his heel.

Hisashi waved them both back and considered the pitiful sight. Kogure, on his arm, looked on silently, half hidden behind Hisashi's shoulder, his eyes wide and curious.

"Tsk," Hisashi rolled his eyes. "They're not even good for sport. I came here to drink, and to fuck, and to dance with Kiminobu, and now I'm standing in the rain having to deal with two fucking cunts. This fucking pisses me off."

"Are they with Sendoh?" Tetsuo asked doubtfully.

Hisashi glowered crossly. "At least Sendohs would put up some fight. Make it entertaining. These guys are simple trash." He glared at them. "Who are you shitheads working for?"

One man moaned weakly, clutching two hands to his broken jaw, unable to speak around the blood issuing from his mouth. The other shook his head anxiously.

"No one," he rasped. "We're independents. Just starting out. We only do soft stuff." He took an anxious gasp of air. "Forgive us... Rukawa-sama... we didn't mean... we didn't know he was... he was yours."

Kogure couldn't hold back the smile that grew delightedly across his face.

"Why are you apologising to me?" Hisashi huffed, "Kiminobu's the one who'll decide what to do with you."

The man changed direction at once, tilting his head towards Kogure instead. "Forgive me, please, I... shouldn't have. I only wanted to..."

"Kogure Kiminobu."

The man became confused. "What?"

"My name. My name is Kogure Kiminobu." Kogure gave him a smile.

"Oh. Er-" he frowned.

"Again." Kogure prompted him. "You should apologise again. Properly."

The man bowed again. "Kogure-san..."

"No, no, no. Kiminobu. Kogure Kiminobu. Don't miss it out. My name is beautiful, don't you think? I like to hear it all."

"Kogure Kiminobu-san, please... please accept my apologies I..."

"Put your head on the floor."

"What?"

"Put your head on the floor."

The man eyed the wet pavement for a moment, but then did as Kogure said, bowing so his head touched the ground. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Hisashi snorted, and lifted one eyebrow at Kogure. "Well? What do you want me to do?"

Kogure put his fingers to his lips. "They called me a whore," he mused thoughtfully.

"How misguided."

"I offered them one last chance but…" Kogure trailed off and smiled up at Hisashi. He let his hands run teasingly around his waist. His fingers found Hisashi's gun in it's holster and drew it out. He pressed it into Hisashi's hands, his lips parted, soft and sweet.

"Kill them for me," he murmured.

Hisashi put a hand on his hip, pulling him tightly against his body. He could feel Kogure's arousal against his thigh. He gave a smile so dark it was black. "Whatever you want, my queen."

"What? Wait-" the man's eyes widened, "Wait a minute, I..."

Two gunshots. Close succession. Kogure closed his eyes and shuddered helplessly with pleasure. Hisashi leaned down and kissed him.

She makes hungry

Where most she satisfies: for vilest things

Become themselves in her.

A family like that didn't amass its wealth without getting its hands dirty. And they weren't ashamed of their methods, either. A lack of morals ran in the blood. Which was why Anzai never saw any problem with involving his sons in his filth. They'd know it all, sooner or later. They'd know it intimately. Why should age be a barrier to their education? Let them learn. Let them learn.

They weren't often trusted with errands. Not because the errands weren't suitable for children – which they weren't – but because children weren't to be trusted. In this case, however, with no one else free, Anzai elected to send Hisashi. He rapidly extended his decision to include Kaede, as insurance. Hisashi was ten already. Let him gain some real experience. The job was small, unimportant – a job for an idiot. Sending Kaede with him was just overkill.

So they went. Hisashi was a fine sight, strutting down the road like a peacock while his younger brother trailed disinterestedly along behind. Their driver remained parked half a block away, by the roadside.

It was obvious at first look that this was not a safe part of town. Rubbish overflowed from waste bins, graffiti was scrawled over brick walls and abandoned shop windows. From intermittent alleyways, the stare of shadowed eyes should have made the hair on the back of their necks prickle. Kaede simply narrowed his eyes and twitched his fingers. Hisashi marched confidently on.

They reached the curtained shop front and, ignoring the warning signs on the front door, Hisashi twisted the loose door handle and pushed his way inside. A bell jangled somewhere. The 'adults only' signed rattled noisily against the door window. Kaede followed his brother in.

It was a sex shop. Lewd displays showed strangely shaped objects in perspex cases. Kaede's eyes rose to take in the sight of the stock hanging from display racks on the walls. Rope, cuffs, blindfolds, gags. His young eyes registered no surprise. No reaction. He stood beside his brother.

"OI!" a middle-aged man with a slight stoop in his back got up from his stool behind the counter and shambled towards them, waving his hands. "Out! Out! This ain't no place for kids!"

Hisashi drew himself up and set his eyes unflinchingly on the man. "We're here to see Hibiki," he said, his voice totally controlled. "He owes us money."

Kaede watched the shop assistant's reaction. He was gawking in disbelief. He tried to imagine the scene through different eyes. Two kids. Claiming that someone owes them money. In a shop like this! Anyone else and the shopkeeper would have protested, denied it, kicked them out. Anyone else. But Hisashi had something, even then at the age of ten, that had authority. And the younger boy - the man peered at him - there was something odd, something very wrong, about that boy.

Ticking an eyebrow in annoyance, Hisashi lifted a hand to the lapel of his jacket and purposefully pulled it aside to reveal the gun at his waist. The man stared at it.

"Hibiki," Hisashi prompted, his voice all cold. "When you're ready."

The man hesitated only a moment longer, his eyes skimming anxiously over Kaede's vacant expression and Hisashi's weapon, before turning and leading them to a door at the back of the shop covered by a heavy red velvet curtain. He drew the curtain aside and nervously gestured them through. Hisashi went first.

The back of the shop, the main body of the building, was a rundown house. The floors, walls and stairs directly in front of them were all wooden. Fragments of paint in hard-to-reach patches of the banisters suggested it had all seen better days. It was a small, claustrophobic area, heady with a strange scent that Kaede didn't recognise, but which turned his stomach nonetheless.

They could hear noises, but could see no sign of people. A wave of chattering and laughing came from the upstairs. The three doors which led off the hallway they had found themselves in were all closed, leading, presumably, to a kitchen, living room, and the like.

"Yasu!" the shopkeep hollered up the stairs, "there's a couple of boys here to see you!"

"Customers?" a man's voice came drifting down, accompanied by the creak of floorboards above their heads as the man himself appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked down and saw two children, and his brow creased in obvious confusion. "Who the hell-?" he began.

Hisashi drew his gun and held it loosely in his hand as he gave a casual shrug. "Hello, Hibiki-san," he said with a cool smile, "we're here for the money you owe us."

Hibiki blinked once in astonishment, and then his face turned sour. "Who the fuck are you?" he spat in the face of Hisashi's audacity.

"You can call me Rukawa-sama," Hisashi replied, evidently enjoying himself, "I hope you haven't forgotten about your debt."

Kaede saw, from his position at Hisashi's side, a number of young, female faces flit around the edges of the stairwell. They each looked down curiously, only to gasp and withdraw fearfully at the sight of the gun. Whores, Kaede identified them. He looked around at the strange, bare house and recognised the type of building they were in too. Brothel.

He was seven years old, and yet these words were already common terms in his vernacular. He felt like he'd always known these things. This was their world, after all. Part of their family business.

He watched the proceedings without much interest. Hisashi had the upper hand. That he could see. Hisashi had been trained for this, after all. On the other hand, Hibiki's responses were increasingly garbled; he's panicking. The shopkeeper beside them was looking on with a frightened, clueless expression. Not a threat. It was all a great deal more straightforward than his usual jobs. He didn't even need to do anything - just stand here.

Kaede shuffled his feet slightly and turned his eyes to the nearest doorway. It was a plain wooden door with a round, flaking handle, only three paces away to his left. The carpet in front of it was worn, nearly threadbare. Kaede looked at it for a long time. He found himself tuning out Hisashi's threats, Hibiki's pleading responses, and the diabolical glint in his brother's eye.

After a thoughtful moment, he turned away from his brother.

With three enchanted steps Kaede brought himself closer to the shut door. He stopped directly in front of it and waited, as if expecting something to happen. It seemed like a chasm to him, suddenly. A whirling vortex of possibility. The door was a barrier behind which lay... what? A palace of gold perhaps. An enchanted garden. An empty room. Logic told him the latter, but something had caught him in a spell. He sucked in his breath quietly. This wasn't like him. The job... he needed to keep his mind on the job.

Hisashi was laughing behind him. The pimp on the stairwell had turned horribly pale. No one was looking at him.

Still, he looked at the door. He tried to imagine leaving this place without having looked. He imagined spending his whole life never knowing what had been on the other side of a plain and simple door in an ugly whorehouse like this. It didn't seem bearable.

Perhaps I am about to change my whole life, he thought.

He reached out. The round metal knob felt warm in his hand. He twisted it. His hands felt sticky. He swallowed briefly, and pushed the door wide.

Behind him, Hisashi was still talking, but at the sound of the door he turned his head, watching what Kaede was doing from the corner of his eye.

When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart, upon the river Cydnus.

The barge she sat in, like a burnisht throne,

Burnt on the water... For her own person,

It beggar'd all description: she did lie

In her pavilion - cloth-of-gold of tissue-

O'er-picturing Venus.

Kaede stood in the doorway, and looked. It was a very small room - little bigger than a cupboard - used as a bedroom. A single bed occupied most of it so that there was only a sliver of floor space between it and the wall. Opposite the door was a very narrow window covered with a dirty cream curtain. The paint on the walls was chipped and patchy, and the rank once-white carpet had turned grey with dirt and cigarette ash. And the smell. The smell was stronger in here.

On the bed, making the springs creak and groan, Kaede could see the naked, slightly flabby back of a sweaty middle-aged man. From under him, occasional muffled whimpering could be discerned.

Like all the other things he found easy to name, this was another. Something he'd never seen before, and yet recognisable. Quantifiable. A man. Raping a boy.

He felt... something. He didn't know what. A sudden rush in his chest, in his head. A pounding, and a shudder ran right the way through him.

Then Hisashi was at his side, and Kaede let out the breath he had been holding. Hisashi would know what to do. Hisashi would handle this for him.

"Hey!" Hisashi snarled, "what the fuck is going on here?"

The man froze only for a moment before turning around with a grimace like a cornered wolf. He saw the two children interrupting his sport, and his expression twisted further.

"What the fuck do you want? I paid already. What the fuck is wrong with this place? Where the fuck is Yasu?" He stopped only to catch breath before he continued, louder. "Get the fuck out of here! Before I break your fucking legs!"

Hisashi frowned, considering the man's flushed, blotchy face, the sad, sagging shape of his bare buttocks, the bald patch on the back of his head.

Then he looked curiously at the boy who was enduring him. His blank eyes gazed up at the cracked ceiling, unseeing. His ankles were pressed into the bed beside his ears. Blood was running down the curve of his back and soaking into the sheets. He didn't seem to be aware of anything at all.

They didn't recognise them. Not the man, not the boy. Just some small-time local pedophile and his unlucky prey. Hisashi waited a moment, and then shrugged. Two nobodies. Nothing to do with them.

"Come on," he said to Kaede instead. "We've got the cash, let's get out of this place. It stinks."

He turned away and left, leaving his still-staring younger brother behind him. Decision made.

But Kaede could not will his feet to move. He had been told - he had been told again and again - that Hisashi was in charge. Akagi was not here. Not even his father was here. There was only the two of them. And the decisions... the decisions belonged to Hisashi. Who should live. Who should die. It was Hisashi's place to decide. It was not Kaede's place. It was never Kaede'splace.

But he could not turn away. He could not stop looking. Something was wrong with him. The once straight line of the future... swirled.

Seeing Hisashi walk away, the man turned back towards the boy, clutching his dick in his hand and repositioning himself to continue, assuming, perhaps, that the younger brother would naturally follow the elder.

"Close the fucking door behind you," he hissed as his final dismissal.

But inside Kaede's mind, a war was being waged.

He had no power. He could do nothing. He was not allowed to.

His hand drifted to the gun at his waist.

Hisashi. Akagi. His father. They were the masters.

I have to obey them...

He felt himself stretch. Unknown corners of his mind seemed to creep and distort.

...don't I?

No, no, no.

I'm weak. I'm nothing. I mustn't. I can't.

There is nothing I can do.

Walk away.

Turn.

Turn

and walk.

Now

Before I break something.

Myself. Chains. Fingers.

Break. I'll break.

He took a gasp of air.

I must not do this thing. I-

-must not-

-mustn't-

do it.

Two heartbeats. That was all it took. Kaede moved. Familiar actions. One. His hand twisted, settled. Two.

Two.

Two.

He fired the gun. The same way he'd done thousands of times before. And yet this time, it was totally different.

The moment seemed long. The noise echoed in his mind like it would never stop.

And the man fell forward. Dead. Just like that.

So

easy.

There were distant screams at the sound of the gunshot. Indistinct cursing. Hisashi was back at his side again, his face unusually discomposed.

"What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck have you done?"

Kaede waited. For the pain. The reprimand. Heaven falling on his shoulders, crushing him, punishing him.

None came. There was only warmth and the strange realisation; this is right. This evil thing I have done. It is... right.

"Move the body," he whispered, "Underneath. Underneath he'll suffocate."

From this hour

The heart of brothers govern in our loves

And sway our great designs.

"Akagi..." Anzai began, squinting out of the window of his office. "...why is there a strange child running around my lawn?"

He stood in the midst of his elegant office. Nearby his large mahogany table was set on lush red carpet detailed with gold. Tall bookshelves and cabinets of polished wood lined the papered walls. The window itself was bay, with a wide sil, deep enough to sit, but currently occupied by a choice of delicate ornaments.

Akagi swallowed nervously in the doorway behind him. "That's what I have been meaning to tell you about," he replied. "The young Rukawa-sama and Kaede-sama seem to have found him at Hibiki's brothel. They brought him back with them."

Anzai turned to stare at him as if he had grown two heads. "Why?" he asked in astonishment.

Akagi gave a hopeless shrug, and Anzai turned back to the window. "Is he someone of significance?"

"Not as far as we know. It seems his mother works for Hibiki."

"The whore son of a whore." Anzai mused thoughtfully. A moment passed, and then he turned back to Akagi. "Tell Kaede to kill him. Somewhere far from here. You can just leave the body in the woods. No one will look for it."

Akagi looked pained. "He's just a child."

Anzai lifted one brow and fixed him with a wilting stare.

Akagi hesitated, but managed to rally. "In fact I believe it was Kaede-sama who found him, and wanted to bring him back."

Anzai's stare turned quizzical. "Kaede, you say?"

Akagi nodded. "He killed some punter he found having his way with the boy."

Anzai's face became thundery. "He killed someone?" he repeated angrily. "I told Hisashi there was to be no unnecessary violence. He always goes overboard that boy. When I see him I'm going to..."

"I don't believe Rukawa-sama gave an order," Akagi added reluctantly, his face a little anxious.

Anzai's expression turned black. "Then who did?" he asked.

Akagi hesitated.

Anzai leaned forward, his face contorting with anger. "Then who did?"

"It seems Kaede-sama acted of his own... volition..." Akagi began, his voice petering out as he saw Anzai's anger turn terrible.

"Bring them here," Anzai hissed. "Kaede. Hisashi. Bring them immediately. And bring that whore son too."

I will piece

Her opulent throne with kingdoms, all the east

In the same office, many years later, Akagi Takenori sat down opposite Sendoh Akira, his back stiff and straight. He was the larger and the taller of the two men, but somehow he didn't feel like it.

There was something rather unnatural about the young Sendoh, Akagi felt.

It still didn't make sense, how he'd managed to ally with Rukawa Kaede, considering all the bloodshed and bad feeling between them. Sendoh Akira had killed Hisashi, Akagi recalled, and left Kaede himself half dead in the process. And hadn't Kaede murdered Sendoh's own father? The whole thing was a goddamned bloody mess, and on the surface of it, he couldn't think of two people less suited, or with less grounds, to cooperate.

And yet Akagi - like all the others who had tried - could find no gap. Nowhere did these two men allow a wedge, not even a meagre splinter, to be driven between them. They were incredibly careful; fastidiously protective of the alliance they had established. And as a result, all of the houses were finally shuffling into alignment beneath them.

So long as they remained loyal to one another, and so long as the profits from their combined ventures continued to appease the more powerful subordinate houses, it did not seem that either of them could be easily brought down.

And Sendoh Akira. Despite his mistrust, Akagi could not fault him. He had handled crisis after crisis with an even hand and perfect tact.

The perfect team Anzai had once envisioned seemed to have become a reality right in front of Akagi's eyes. But it was not Hisashi, but this oddity - this Sendoh Akira - who was their extraordinary leader, and with that monster Rukawa Kaede at his right hand, he was all but invincible too.

Akagi's eyes flickered over to the said monster. He was sitting idly on the bay window sill as was his habit, ignoring the goings on in the room as if it all had nothing to do with him. Instead his head was turned away, looking down at the grounds of the Rukawa mansion, his eyes fixed on the tree that stood at the centre of the lawn, his expression lost in recollection.

Didn't it bother him, Akagi couldn't help but wonder, that Sendoh Akira was sitting in his seat? That Sendoh Akira had taken control of his house? That Sendoh Akira had the right to control him, to subjugate him, to overrule him in all things? He who had already proved himself more than capable of holding the Sendoh house against the floor, and prideful enough to burn the world to the ground to prove it? Why did he allow himself to be fettered to Sendoh's will?

And the other way, too. With what reckless confidence did Sendoh Akira sit with his back to a monster like that? Didn't he know what Rukawa Kaede was capable of? What could have induced him to trust such a dangerous individual? To put himself, his life, his safety and the future of his house in the palms of a demon? Not even Anzai himself would have turned his back on that boy. No, Akagi couldn't understand it.

There was no reason for it to work except for the fact that it did. It worked. It worked exceptionally well. Rukawa Kaede surrendered his power, and Sendoh Akira wielded it with undeniable mastery. And the result was remarkable stability.

Akagi set his tongue against his teeth and frowned.

How strange it all was.

Sendoh Akira was still waiting for him to speak. He cleared his throat.

"There is a family matter, a somewhat personal one, that I would like to discuss with Rukawa-sama," he said.

Akira lifted one brow.

In the beginning, many people had requested meetings with Akira and Kaede separately - distrusting one or the other - but they had made a firm policy of insisting on their dual presence until eventually the requests had ceased. It had been a while since anyone had even asked.

Now Sendoh Akira tilted his head to consider him. "You are free to speak here," he said with a casual wave of his hand, easily denying Akagi's request.

Akagi swallowed and tried again.

"It is not a matter that concerns business or the alliance," he explained, "It is merely a personal..."

"Speak or leave, Akagi-san," Akira told him flatly.

Akagi stared at him. Though his voice was firm, his face was not aggressive. He seemed curious and attentive, as if Akagi's personal matter were of importance to him. As if he'd like nothing better than to address Akagi's concerns. It was frighteningly difficult to dislike this man, Akagi found. He scowled to himself and shifted in his seat, turning slightly to address the man staring out of the window instead.

"Well then," he began, "Rukawa-sama, you will be turning twenty-six in a few months time, and I expect you've been turning your mind to the matter of your marriage."

There was silence. Akira tilted his head to the side in curiosity, picked up a pen and started to twirl it idly between his fingers, his expression totally unreadable. Kaede didn't react at all.

Akagi continued boldly on. "I'm sure you are intending to honour the arrangement made between our fathers, and I hope we can begin with preparations."

The silence continued as Akira stared at him blankly. Kaede, meanwhile, rose from his perch and physically turned his back on the conversation, still looking out of the window as if the whole topic was not worth his time.

Nobody spoke.

Akira waited a moment longer, expecting further details to be explained, something to qualify the ridiculous comments that had fallen out of Akagi's mouth, but neither Akagi nor Kaede said anything at all.

Akira placed the pen down carefully on the table top. "To what arrangements are you referring?" he asked finally.

Akagi looked towards him. "Rukawa-sama has been betrothed to my younger sister, Akagi Haruko, since infancy."

Akira infallible mask did not slip even a little at this bizarre piece of fact. He carefully straightened the pen to line up with the notebook on the desk. "Kaede?" he asked levelly, "is this the case?"

The silence that radiated from the window behind him was, Akira felt, decidedly guilty. He sighed.

"Out of the question," Kaede said finally, leaning heavily against the sill, his back still turned. "Impossible."

Akagi squared his shoulders.

He came here prepared for a fight, Akira noted, and he's completely blindsided me. Of course it will never happen, but Akagi is one of the most powerful houses under Rukawa and this is nothing short of an insult. He resisted the urge to put his fingers to his temples. Dealings under Rukawa always left him at a decided disadvantage, but if he didn't contain this, it could quickly become a disaster.

"Akagi Haruko..." he muttered to himself. Isn't that the girl Hanamichi is always following around?

He swallowed the urge to sigh, and slowly leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers before his lips, thinking hard.

"Akagi-san," he began. "Was the arrangement for your sister ever with Hisashi?"

He saw Akagi wince a little at Akira's flippant use of Hisashi's forename and he felt a dark rush of pleasure. It was one of very few meagre benefits that at least no one seriously expected him to tip-toe respectfully around the memory of a man he was supposed to have murdered.

But Akagi shook his head. "No. It has always been an arrangement between Kaede-sama and my sister."

Akira placed his hands on his lap, feeling no small sense of relief. Thank goodness for that, he thought to himself, still not quite daring to hope the solution could be so simple. He considered his next words very carefully, although he knew he was going to cause offense no matter what he did.

"And why..." he asked slowly, "...do you think that was?"

As he'd expected, Akagi's face turned stony as he realised the argument Akira was making.

"Well," he replied with as much casualness as he could summon, "Hisashi Rukawa-sama was devoted to Kogure-san. Everyone knows that."

Everyone knows that. Sendoh bit down on his tongue. Sure everyone knows that. But no one seems to really "know" anything when it comes to Kogure Kiminobu.

Hisashi and Kiminobu. What sort of twisted love story was that anyway?

His eyes flashed towards Kaede, although as usual Kaede gave no obvious reaction. Only the slight tenseness in his shoulders revealed that he was even listening. Akira was mostly reconciled to the fact that he was never going to understand the relationship between Kaede and Kiminobu.

As far as I'm concerned, Hisashi was a sadistic bastard who was prepared to torture his own brother to death. Kogure may have seemed nice enough, but I have severe doubts about anyone who would love a man like that.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present matter, focusing on Akagi. "You said the betrothal was from infancy," he pointed out, "pre-dating any romantic attachments."

Akagi scowled further. "Are you trying to suggest that my sister is not a good enough match for the head of Rukawa?"

Akira spread his hands peaceably. "It was Anzai's judgement, not mine. I am merely trying to interpret his wishes accurately."

Akagi's look became openly hostile. "This match has been long anticipated. We have made no other arrangements in the expectation of it being honoured. If you fail to abide by what was promised, do not assume that I will stand by and accept the insult."

So, the claws come out. Sendoh managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Long anticipated? Nonsense. I'd bet my right eye that the minute he was disinherited you were trying to wash your hands of the match. Why else have you failed to mention it before now?

Aloud, he said, "Thankfully, I have a solution."

Akagi stared at him. Akira leaned back in his seat.

"The match was to the second son of the house. What if a new arrangement was made with another second son?" He met Akagi's eyes peacefully. "My brother, for instance."

Behind him, Kaede turned back around, his curiosity perked by this curious new idea. Akagi, however, looked astonished.

"Hanamichi?" he demanded weakly. "A Sendoh?" He shook his head. "That's- that's impossible. There's no way. My father would roll in his grave to see his daughter married to a thug like... like..."

He trailed off as Akira arched one eyebrow. The air turned heavy. Akagi visibly began to wilt under the weight of his mistake. Even Kaede reacted, leaving his spot by the window and moving forward to stand close by Akira's right hand. His presence threw a long shadow across the desk, his expression hard and empty.

Akagi floundered, his jaw moving side to side. "I... I er... what I mean is..."

"I must advise you," Akira's voice was different from before. Low and humourless and edged with ice, "to consider your words carefully, Akagi-san, when you speak about my family."

Akagi closed his lips tightly. The tension continued for a long, painful minute.

"Sendoh-sama," Kaede was the one who finally broke it, turning towards Akira and offering him a bow, "let me apologise for the rudeness of my subordinate. I will bear any punishment you consider right to inflict on me..." the eyes he turned on Akagi were blank and strangely terrifying, "...as he is my responsibility."

Akagi paled. Causing Rukawa Kaede to lose face was not an error many people lived to repeat.

Akira let out his breath and carefully considered what to do. They maintained their roles very carefully in public: Sendoh the superior house and Rukawa the deferent one. Kaede was very good at clever little shows of subservience, and even Akira was getting used to maintaining this particular facade.

This time he used the opening Kaede had provided him. He gave a contemptuous shake of his head and waved Kaede away dismissively, making sure that the message - the hierarchy - was abundantly clear to Akagi. Kaede obediently stepped back.

"My brother is an excellent man, Akagi-san," Akira continued, his voice smooth and hard like steel. "A match between Sendoh and Akagi would be entirely appropriate given our ongoing positive relations. Or am I... wrong?" The last word was soft and slightly poisonous.

Akagi dropped his eyes. With full control of the Rukawa house, Sendoh Akira was an impossible man to argue with.

"I... I must ask for time to consider your kind offer," Akagi managed to mutter.

Akira gave him a long, luxurious smile which failed to reach his eyes. "Naturally. Please take all the time you need."

Akagi walked very stiffly from the room.

My precious queen, forbear;

And give true evidence to his love, which stands

An honourable trial.

"You killed someone."

His voice was heavy like lead. He seemed huge, standing at his full height, towering over the boy who looked up at him in equal parts confusion and defiance.

"I've killed many people." The boy finally asserted, pride winning out over fear.

It was a mistake. At once enraged the man - his father - dealt him a blow so ferocious that the boy was lifted off his feet and catapulted into the side dresser, sending ornaments of all kinds crashing to the floor.

"How dare you," the man seethed. "How fucking dare you?"

The child whimpered, one hand raised to his bloody lip, eyes filled with tears of pain as he looked up at his father.

The man stooped, gathered the front of the boy's t-shirt in a fist and hoisted him up into the air.

"You think you have the right to choose, do you?" he hissed, emphasising each word by delivering a vicious shake. "Think you know who deserves to die now, do you? Think you're some kind of god?"

"N-n-no..!" the boy stammered weakly, fearfully, screwing up his face in expectation of another blow. "N-no... I don't I- I'm not..."

Anzai threw him violently at the floor, and the boy cried out as his leg crumpled beneath him.

"You're nothing," Anzai hissed at his youngest son. "Nothing but a snot-faced little shit. You make me sick. Fucking sick." He delivered a heavy stomp to the boy's ankle, causing him to give a strangled cry of pain.

The child no longer had the will to look up and meet his father's gaze. He huddled himself into a fearful ball, clutching his painful ankle, racked with disjointed sobs.

"You will do nothing except precisely what I tell you to do," Anzai snarled, bending over him again, "Do you understand?"

Still curled up, the boy nodded. Anzai delivered a blow to his head. "Look at me when you answer me!"

Painfully, the boy managed to uncurl himself, his frightened eyes looking everywhere except at his father.

"Well?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Rukawa-sama."

Anzai straightened and regarded his son with a look of disgust.

"You've created a fucking problem for me. You will solve it." He pointed at the boy whore who stood trembling in the corner of the room, dressed in Hisashi's old clothes.

Kaede climbed unsteadily to his feet, standing gingerly on his pained ankle, and stared fearfully up at him.

"How?" he rasped anxiously.

Anzai let out a blast of hot air from his nostrils like a mad bull. "Kill it."

Kaede's eyes widened. "But..."

The next blow sent him back to the ground again.

"YOU DARE ANSWER BACK TO ME?" Anzai roared, his face red, spit flying from his lip, so loud that every occupant in the room flinched. His boot caught the boy in the gut so heavily that he coughed, spluttered, and vomited onto the carpet.

"I've never been so fucking angry in my life," Anzai attested furiously. "Get me my gun," he railed at the room in general, "I'll kill him myself. I'll kill both of them. One whore and one fucking useless son."

Kaede whimpered. The whore pressed himself fearfully into the corner. The two other men in the room - Akagi and Miyagi - exchanged troubled glances.

But it was Hisashi who unexpectedly spoke up. "I don't want him killed." He stepped in front of the trembling whore, his hands in his pockets, his voice confident, totally unaffected by the sight of the violence, and his wretched brother moaning on the floor.

Anzai stared at him in disapproval. "Get out of the way Hisashi," he demanded.

"I want to keep him. He's mine."

The boy stepped a little closer to Hisashi, hiding partly behind his shoulder, perhaps sensing that the elder brother had influence where the younger had none.

Anzai's face was a snarl. "Don't waste time on trash like this," he argued. "He's worthless."

Hisashi gave an easy shrug. "He does what I tell him to do. He's obedient. He's good at playing. I like the noises he makes. I want to keep him."

Anzai frowned deeply, considering the determined look on his eldest son's face.

"Come here, whore" he demanded eventually, gesturing with one arm.

Hisashi turned around and with one indifferent hand shoved the terrified boy in Anzai's direction. He stumbled forward fearfully, and stood shaking before Anzai. Anzai gripped his chin and turned his face right and left to examine him.

Finally he gave a sigh.

"Fine. Akagi, get him tested. If he's got anything at all, I want him gone."

"Yes, Rukawa-sama," Akagi bowed, "immediately."

"What's your name, whore?" Anzai turned his attention back to the boy.

The boy didn't answer at once. Anzai shook him roughly. "I asked you a question."

"Kimi," the boy managed to gasp.

Anzai rolled his eyes. "Great. Your slut of a mother was doped up so high she couldn't even give you a real name, is that it?"

The boy didn't answer.

Anzai scowled. "Hisashi, give your pet a proper name."

"Yes, father."

Anzai considered the boy again. "Now you remember this," he said warningly. "You're alive because Hisashi has allowed it. You belong to him. When he tells you to do something, you do it. If he beats you, you say "Thank you, Rukawa-sama". If he lets you suck his cock, you say "Thank you, Rukawa-sama". If he fucks your miserable little hole you say "Thank you, Rukawa-sama". Do you understand me?"

The boy stared at him with wide eyes. Slowly, he nodded.

"I can't hear you."

"Y-yes, Rukawa-sama. Thank you, Rukawa-sama."

"Good. Now get the fuck out of my office."

Mine honour was not yielded,

But conquer'd.

Hisashi caught the boy's arm in a grip and began to pull him from the room. The boy's eyes slid anxiously towards the figure of the younger brother still curled on the floor, but Kaede did not look up.

"As for this one," Anzai added, turning his attention back to his youngest son, "lock him in his room. Five days. No food."

Kaede opened his eyes and blearily stared at the wall, but otherwise did not react.

You're alive because Hisashi has allowed it.

Was that true, he wondered.

You belong to him.

Why?

Hisashi left him behind.

It was me. Wasn't it?

He curled tighter in upon himself, pressing his hands comfortingly against the pain in his ribs.

But what else can I do? I've done

all I can.

He's not

mine.

He was never mine to protect.

And it doesn't matter anymore. Because now

Hisashi

will keep him safe.

I have no power upon you.

After Kaede had been removed to his room, Miyagi turned to Anzai with curious eyes.

"Aren't you being a little harsh on Kaede-sama?" he asked. "Is it really wise to beat the boy like that?

Anzai's face turned contemptuous. "Boy, is he? Is that what you see when you look at him? A child? Don't make me laugh. I'll tell you what he is. He's a monster." He glared at his aides until they shifted where they stood. Then he scowled deeply as he added, "A monster we have to keep under control."

Miyagi frowned. "But, he's only…"

...seven.

"He is dangerous," Anzai cut him off irritably. "I won't have him running around doing what he likes, killing where he likes. He has power, and it is imperative - absolutely imperative - that he doesn't realise it." He tapped his fingers against the desk top. "I don't like this," he muttered. "I don't like it at all. He killed someone without instruction. That was never supposed to happen. I won't tolerate any threats to this house. Any threats to Hisashi. If I had any sense I'd put a bullet between his eyes today."

"It was just a small incident. A one-off." Akagi quickly reasoned, his voice slightly strained. "Nothing will come of it. And we need him."

Anzai turned to look back out of the window, his shoulders rising and falling with a sigh. He shook his head crossly. "I hope you're right."

Set thee on triumphant chariots, and

Put garlands on thy head.

Kaede pressed himself against the ground, the soil clinging to his white t-shirt, the knees of his jeans scuffed and dirty. Around him, the waving heads of foxglove and camellia bobbed in the breeze. He crawled forwards, pushing the earth with his shoes, clutching at the roots and dead grasses under his hands. Finally he was close enough to peer out into the garden and watch his brother playing pirates with Kiminobu.

Hisashi had a captain's hat on his head, and a patch over his eye. He was swinging a plastic sword left and right, and scowling theatrically. Kiminobu was wearing Hisashi's silken pyjamas, a tie around his head like a bandanna, and a little plastic dagger sticking out of his sock. The game seemed to consist mostly of Hisashi hunting for Kiminobu who would try to hide, only to be sent running and giggling whenever Hisashi came close.

Kaede shifted his weight to a more comfortable position, and watched them intently. He wondered what it was like to play. It looked like they were having fun.

Finally Kiminobu made a dive into the foxgloves and by chance came nose to nose with Kaede hiding there.

Kaede froze. Kiminobu stared at him, his brown eyes wide, his cheeks pleasantly flushed. He smiled.

"Hello. Why are you hiding here? Do you want to play?"

Kaede shook his head violently and shuffled back a few inches. It had been weeks since Kiminobu had come to stay with them, but Kaede still hadn't uttered a word to him.

Kiminobu held his gaze softly, his smile never fading.

Just at that moment, Hisashi's hand took hold of Kiminobu's ankle and dragged him squealing and laughing out of the flower bed.

The game restarted. They forgot about him.

Kaede let the leaves fall back across his face, hiding from view, his heart pounding. He closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. How badly he wanted to believe in it. Warmth, kindness, comfort. He seemed so sweet. He smiled so softly. Kaede wanted it to be real. Wanted to share it, just a little bit. Just the smallest part of that warmth. But he'd been disappointed before. He knew. Such things were not meant for him.

The sounds of play continued to drift into his ears. Hisashi's ridiculous pirate voice, swearing and cursing like a sailor. Kiminobu gasping and laughing. Kaede yearned for it. But he couldn't step forward. Even if he had the courage to do so - to attempt to join in their game - he knew Hisashi would only drive him off.

When he looked again, the game had moved on. Kiminobu had finally been captured. Hisashi had tied him to the tree and striped him of all his clothes except his white cotton briefs. Kiminobu's face was flushed with anxious pleasure, his wrists bound to the branch above his head by the tie that had been his bandanna. He twisted and squirmed excitedly with each blow Hisashi aimed at his bare thighs with the plastic sword, his punishment for being caught. His face was radiant, bright and dewy with the thrill, and his eager panting breath passed hot and damp over his pink petal lips.

"Hisashi-sama" he begged, laughed, giggling and wiggling playfully. He struggled only halfheartedly against his binds, his chest rising and falling in excitement. Loving every second of Hisashi's attention.

Kaede dropped his eyes and silently withdrew.

In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing.

The tension fractured with Akagi's exit, and Akira allowed himself to drop forward onto the table, pressing his forehead against the mahogany tiredly, his breath fogging the vanished surface.

"You don't make life easy for me, do you?" he complained softly.

Kaede turned his eyes away from the tree in the garden and considered this silently for a moment. Then he moved around the table and took the seat Akagi had just vacated, crossing his long legs elegantly, and tilting his head to consider Akira's tired posture.

"It's no problem for you," he pointed out. "A simple solution."

Akira lifted his head to consider him.

He wore a well tailored suit that flattered his slim figure, his lithe and elegant form was deceptively delicate. Akira knew he was far stronger than he looked. His famous Rukawa eyes were a brilliant blue behind his long black fringe. The artistic fingers of his left hand propped up his chin as he stared directly at his lover. He did most things with his left hand these days. His two missing fingers on the right didn't do anything to help him convince the world that he and Hisashi had in fact been on good terms.

Still, Akira could stare at him every damn day and yet he never lost it, never tired of it, never got used to the idea that this creature - this perfect, deadly thing - belonged to him. He cracked a tired smile.

"Please let me know if you have any other secret fiancées I should know about. I'm running out of brothers to wed them to."

Kaede did not smile at Akira's light hearted comment.

"It'll be a problem if he refuses," he said, casting Akira an anxious look to which Akira responded with a warm, reassuring smile.

"You don't need to worry about it. I'll fix it."

He held out a hand across the table top. Kaede slipped his hand into Akira's, and closed his eyes, wholly trusting.

There was a moment of quiet.

"Will you stay here tonight?" Kaede asked quietly.

"I'm supposed to be meeting Koshino in the morning," Akira replied regretfully. "He hasn't been able to shift the stockpile at Konan and he's getting nervous." He considered Kaede's face. His eyes were still closed, the barest hint of a purse about his lips. He seemed as composed as always and yet... it was rare, very rare to hear him make such a direct request. "Why?" he pressed curiously. "Do you want me to?"

There was a moment of stillness before Kaede made a minute nod of his head.

Akira couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. "Well then," he watched as Kaede's eyes opened again and their gazes warmly brushed. "I am yours to command."

We stand up peerless.

The blood. The blood was everywhere. He pressed his back against the bathroom wall in fear, but it wouldn't stop. It ran down the sides of the sink, onto the mat, spilling across the floor, red and staining and remorseless.

He gasped and moaned and stood on tiptoes to try to keep it away from his feet but still it soaked into his socks and made his flesh crawl.

"No, no," he moaned, shaking his head rhythmically from side to side. "Stop it, stop it, stop it, please, ah - ah - ah -" he clenched his hands in his hair and struck his head against the wall. "No - no - !"

"Kaede?" two small, slippered feet waded through the blood to the overflowing sink and turned off the faucet. Two hands brushed his shoulders.

"Don't," Kaede gasped. "Don't get it on you. The blood. The blood it... it doesn't come off. It won't come off."

"It's only water."

He groaned and shuddered helplessly.

"Don't be afraid." Kiminobu's hands felt his clothes. "You're soaking wet. Did you wet your bed?"

Kaede lifted his head and stared up blankly at the taller boy, still shivering.

"Don't worry. It happened to me. Hisashi showed me where to get the sheets. I'll help you."

Kaede lurched forward and clutched at Kiminobu's pyjamas before he could turn away. His hands made small fists in the clean cotton.

"Kaede?" The older boy considered him in concern. "Your name is Kaede, right?"

He shook his head violently, mutely, unable to communicate his distress.

Kiminobu lifted a hand and smoothed his hair softly. "It's okay."

"There's so much blood..." the smaller boy whispered.

Kiminobu frowned, looking around the dark, flooded bathroom. "You made the sink overflow. It's not blood. Why do you think that?" He crouched and looked into the wide blue eyes. "Is it because you kill people?"

Kaede startled slightly. "I don't." He protested anxiously. "I don't. I... only do what they tell me to do."

Kiminobu stared at him. "They tell you to kill people," he pointed out.

The smaller boy shook his head. "I don't want to. It's them. They make me do it. Not me. I don't... I... I'm not... bad."

"I don't think you're bad," Kiminobu agreed warmly. "I wish I knew how to kill people."

Kaede whimpered. "Don't say that..." he whispered, "...it's... a bad thing."

"You saved me, didn't you?" Kiminobu pointed out gently. "It's not always bad. If I could kill people, then no one would hurt me." He looked thoughtful. "There's a lot of people I'd like to kill."

When Kaede didn't reply, Kiminobu leaned forward and set a soft kiss on his temple.

"Sempai..?"

"My name is Kiminobu," he responded brightly, still relishing the sound of his new name, turning it on his tongue like a cube of sugar.

But Kaede shook his head. No, it's not. "Sempai," he repeated, a little stubbornly.

Kiminobu didn't seem to mind. "Let's find new pyjamas," he said.

Kaede hesitated, looking into Kiminobu's eyes.

"You... you don't have to be nice to me, sempai," he tried to explain. "I... I won't mind."

Kiminobu met his gaze. "It's alright, Kaede. I'm not scared of the dark." He smiled.

Kaede didn't know what to say to that.

"I will sleep next to you, so you don't need to be afraid," Kiminobu decided. "And if someone comes to hurt me, or take me back to that place, you can kill them, okay?"

But I'm... not allowed to... I...

...I...

Kiminobu's expression became a little anxious. "I don't want to go back there," he confessed in a whisper.

Kaede hesitated a moment longer. Then he slowly nodded.

"O- okay... sempai."

Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms.

There was a scratch scratch noise from his window. A mouse. Something small. He didn't open his eyes, drifting in and out of his feverish doze. The pitcher of water on the desk was already a quarter gone. That made him a little anxious. He wrinkled his brow and tossed his head. The pillow was drenched. The blankets were stifling.

Still the noise continued to disturb him, invading his thoughts, disrupting his hibernation. It had continued on and off every night for the last two days. Some strange animal digging quietly at night. What was it? A fox? He was curious, but he didn't have the energy to find out.

Stay in bed, sleep. That was all he did. That was the way to survive these miserable, punishing days. When he was lucky, his sleep was dreamless. Usually he was not.

He tossed in the blankets, uncomfortable, hot.

The hunger was bad, but it was always the nightmares that troubled him the most.

Finally he fell back into sleep, and dreamed again. They'd come for him. The ghosts. The dead. Whispering his name, breaking in through his window, oozing through the cracks, scratch scratch scratch, their nails against the brickwork.

A sudden touch on his forehead startled him into wakefulness.

It was not a dream. The window had opened. Someone had come, was there. His small hand closed automatically around his gun and he'd half pulled it out from beneath the pillow before he recognised him.

"Sempai?" he rasped in surprise, his throat dry. It was nearly pitch black. He stared at him in confusion, a mere outline in the blackness. "How did you...?"

A soft kiss. "Don't worry about that," the excited boy hushed him. He was wearing green pyjamas, soft and warm, and a thrilled look in his eyes at his own daring. "Here, look," he struggled to pull a plastic container from a bag. "I brought you some food. I told the cook I wasn't feeling well and he made me some broth."

Kaede shook his head. "I... I can't."

"You have to eat, I think you've got a fever..." Kiminobu felt his forehead again, his small hands were cold against Kaede's flushed skin, "... I'm worried about you."

But Kaede shook his head again. "If I vomit, they'll know."

"Just a little then. Please?"

He brought a spoon of rice broth to Kaede's lips, and Kaede sipped it to appease him. It was good, and he was ravenous. But the thought of getting Kiminobu into trouble with his father was unbearable. He refused more.

"Did you bring any water..?" he requested hopefully instead. Kiminobu nodded and pulled a canteen from the bag. He added it to the pitcher, filling it nearly back up to the top, before passing the remainder to Kaede who drank it eagerly.

"Why have they locked you in here?"

"I made a mistake."

"Oh. How long will it be?"

"A day. Maybe two."

"Aren't you hungry?"

I'm starving. He didn't say it, but Kiminobu saw it in his face.

"Eat some more?"

Kaede shook his head. "How did you get in here?"

Kiminobu grinned mischievously. "It was easy. I made some holes in the wall. I dug out the mortar with a spoon and pulled out the bricks. It's really crumbly. Easy peasy."

"Won't someone see it?"

"The vine is huge. The leaves cover everything. I threw the bricks in the stream. No one knows except me and you. No one will find it, ever!" He looked excited. "I guarantee it." He leaned forward. "I can come here any time. You can use it to get down, too, if you want."

Kaede's face turned anxious. "Don't take risks, sempai."

"It's alright, I-"

Kaede gripped his hand and interrupted him. "No. No. It's not alright. You mustn't."

Kiminobu looked surprised by his seriousness. Kaede squeezed his hand tightly. "If my father finds out that you're doing things behind Hisashi's back…"

Kiminobu shook his head. "But Hisashi wouldn't mind…"

Kaede hadn't finished. "Hisashi won't be able to keep you safe."

"But he…"

"Don't you understand? My father will punish Hisashi for not keeping you under control." He chewed the inside of his cheek unhappily. "He'll... take you away from him."

Kiminobu went quiet as he considered that. Finally he dropped his eyes. "I just wanted to..." Kiminobu trailed off, frowned "...I didn't think of it like that."

Kaede turned Kogure's palm face up and pressed his cheek into it.

After a moment, Kiminobu smiled again at him. "Alright. Well-" his eyes flickered to the window, "-just for emergencies then."

"Okay," Kaede conceded. "For emergencies."

Kiminobu looked pleased by this exciting new secret.

"I'll just stay until you're sleeping," he decided. He did not wait for a response but crawled between the covers and pulled the smaller boy into his arms. "You were muttering in your sleep. Still having bad dreams?"

Kaede pushed his nose into the folds of Kiminobu's pyjamas and did not reply. He closed his eyes and felt a sweet, blissful rest wash over him. No dreams. Nothing horrible ever passed Kiminobu's protective embrace. He let out a silent breath through his mouth and snuggled deeper into his warmth.

"Good night, Kaede." Kiminobu ran his hands softly over his back.

There was no response except the gentle breathing of sleep.

Kiminobu stayed as long as he dared. But after that night it would be many years before anyone climbed the wall to Kaede's balcony again.

Eternity was in our lips and eyes,

Bliss in our brows bent.

He was eleven years old when he kissed him for the first time. A fumbling, childish, pre-pubescent mess.

They were playing. Kiminobu was the undercover policeman whom Hisashi had just discovered infiltrating his house and was busy torturing for information. He'd tied his wrists to the bed posts, as they often did, and was digging the end of a pencil into the sole of Kiminobu's foot, as they sometimes did. And Kiminobu was crying and moaning very convincingly. He knew how to conjure real tears, which always made Hisashi pleased.

"Stop," he begged. "I've told you everything, I swear. Rukawa-sama, Rukawa-sama, I was never going to betray you, don't- don't- no, argh, oh, ngh!"

Hisashi pressed harder. "I'll make you regret double-crossing me," he snarled.

"Please," Kiminobu cried, tossing his head in perfect distress. "Let me work for you. I'll leave the force. I'll be loyal to you forever, oh! Stop, please, no! Rukawa-sama, Rukawa-sama! No!"

An urge to do more suddenly came over Hisashi. It didn't seem that strange. It was quite natural. He just wanted to dominate him. Possess him. Beyond what he ordinarily did. Making him pretend to cry was no longer sufficient. And his body moved instinctually to that end.

"I'll show you," he growled, "you're mine now." And he pressed his lips hard against Kiminobu's mouth.

It was only in the moment he did it that the sensation of a kiss which was wholly beyond his experience, assaulted him and made him realise that it wasn't natural. It wasn't easy. There was a line. And he'd leapt over it without even thinking. And now he was on the wrong side of the line and he had absolutely no idea what to do.

It had, he thought, been a mistake.

He drew back, shocked by the weight of his fumbled intimacy. He hadn't expected such a strange feeling at all. Kiminobu did not seem as surprised as he was.

The pretence of the game vanished.

"I... um..." he stammered, totally unlike himself. He didn't know where to go next.

"I don't mind," Kiminobu exclaimed at once, seeing Hisashi's displeasure. "Y-you can do it again," he added nervously, "if-if you want."

Hisashi remained hesitant, his expression lost in the mixture of the sensation. It wasn't particularly bad, or particularly good. But for some reason he wanted to repeat it.

Hisashi began to wonder how long Kiminobu had been waiting for him to do exactly this. A wave of awful self consciousness came upon him abruptly. Did he look foolish? Was Kiminobu laughing at him? He flushed, feeling uncertain and bruised.

"I'd like you to," Kiminobu admitted. His face was nervous, his wrists still bound, his toes wriggling in shy anxiety.

Hisashi considered. He quite liked the sound of Kiminobu's quiet plea.

He chose to try again and leaned forward to fumble inelegantly against his mouth. Dry, and clumsy, and so so soft.

Strange.

His eyes closed experimentally.

They rubbed their lips together awkwardly. Hisashi struggled to find an angle that was comfortable. He grew tired of it quickly but the urge to continue, to do it again, and again, was powerful. Like a strange new game. Finally, when his legs were aching from hunkering down, he gave up and pulled away, mostly unimpressed.

Kiminobu stared up at him, his eyes wide and beautiful, his lips parted.

"Do you want to put it in my mouth?"

"What?" Hisashi questioned.

"Your cock."

Hisashi stared at him. "You mean like a blow job?" He knew the word, even if he didn't yet understand the appeal.

"Yeah."

Hisashi seemed to think about this. "Kiminobu," he said eventually. "You're a boy. Girls are supposed to do that kind of thing."

"But I know how to do it," Kiminobu protested. "I've done it before; lots of times."

Silence fell over both of them. Hisashi finally shook his head. "No," he decided. "I don't want to do that. Let's go and play something else." He reached out to untie Kiminobu's hands from the binds. "Let's take our bikes out. I still want to try to jump that fallen tree."

"Yeah, okay," Kiminobu agreed, the previous conversation falling easily by the wayside. "Do you want me to bring the camera again?"

"Yeah," Hisashi pulled him to his feet. "But last time all your photos were blurry."

"I think I'm better now."

"Cool. Hey you should try and get a shot of me looking a bit like that guy we saw on MTV. You know. What's his name-?"

The bedroom door slammed behind them as they left.

Know that what they do delay, they not deny.

Akira reached out for warmth but found only cold blankets. The disturbing sunlight on his eye lids caused him to groan and roll away from the French windows, opening his eyes to the familiar room.

He blinked blearily as his surroundings came into focus.

He sat up and the sheets slipped down his bare chest to crumple in his lap. He was surrounded by silken pillows, small in the middle of the oversized bed. Above his head an elaborate canopy was supported by four intricately carved wooden bed posts. Typical Rukawa decadence.

He looked about. The chair by the wardrobe was empty, as was the one at the desk, and the window bay. The ensuite bathroom door was wide open, and the lights inside were off. It seemed decidedly the case that apart from himself, the suite was empty.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the digital clock by the bedside. Eight forty-five, October third. The house was probably well awake by now.

He made to heave himself out of the comfortable bed, but the sight of blood on the sheets made him pause. He ran his hand over the stains.

Kaede...

Kaede had been in an odd mood last night, he reflected. It had been a long time since he'd wanted to make love quite so roughly. Akira had to wonder what could be on his mind. Was something wrong? Had that meeting with Akagi bothered him more than Akira had realised?

Eager to go and find him, Akira threw his legs over the side, and his feet sunk into the soft bedside mat. He didn't bother to cover himself as he walked naked into the large bathroom, slipping his feet into lush slippers as he went. He washed off the residues of last night under the hot shower, and pulled fresh clothes for himself out of the wardrobe.

When dressed, he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a long while, prodding the tired marks under his eyes which he feared were now a permanent feature. Responsibility for the two businesses was taking a toll on him.

He closed his eyes briefly and recalled the heat and electrified flesh of the night before. Kaede's eyes, his body, his moans, his gorgeous surrender. Akira knew all over again that he wouldn't want it any other way. The fact remained that after so many years he still loved Rukawa Kaede as sincerely and passionately as he had as a seventeen year old boy. More, perhaps. He wanted absolutely nothing more than to spend all his days at his side, and spend all his nights sunk deep in his soul, falling to his knees in adoration and trailing devoted kisses up his thighs.

He smiled a little to himself. A few marks under his eyes were a small price to pay for the privilege of being Rukawa Kaede's lover. He gave me his entire house. He allows me to worship his body. Am I really gonna complain about being tired? He ran two hands up through his hair and fixed his face into a smile. The handsome face of Sendoh Akira smirked confidently back at him.

Heh.

He met no one on the way down the grand staircase, although the sounds of activity were everywhere - televisions playing back the news in various offices, maids gossiping together in empty rooms. In the lobby below, Akira saw one of the kitchen girls carrying a covered tray into the conservatory, leaving the delicious smell of eggs and cooked sausages in her wake. He found himself following her.

As he passed down the beautiful sweeping staircase, he recalled the first time he'd seen and been stunned by it. Standing in the hallway, dressed in Yayoi's regency costume, extravagant guests all around him, nervous and surrounded by his enemies. That was the night he'd seen Kaede for the first time. He smiled to think how much things had changed since then, and yet how much remained frustratingly the same.

He passed through the lounge and into the conservatory, and the three occupants rose to their feet, startled at his entrance.

"Akira?" his brother breathed in surprise. "I didn't know you stayed here last night."

"Small change of plans," Akira replied easily, noting Hanamichi's blushing cheeks. "But why are you here?"

Hanamichi stammered something vague in reply. Akira did not need to ask him to repeat himself. Haruko Akagi had also leapt respectfully to her feet upon his arrival.

"Sendoh-sama!" she greeted him, flushed, and bowed. "I didn't realise you were here. Would you join us for breakfast? I can call for more..." she turned towards the kitchen girl who was just setting down the tray. "Maya, please tell the cook that we need another portion."

Akira gave her a warm smile. "You're very kind. It smells delicious."

"Rukawa has the best cooks," Hanamichi explained enthusiastically, reseating himself and gesturing Akira into the room. "No one makes breakfast this good at home."

The servant girl bowed and left. Akira seated himself beside his brother and looked about. Akagi Takenori lowered himself back into his seat stiffly on the other side of the table, his face unreadably stony as he watched his sister interacting with the younger Sendoh brother.

"Akagi-san is going to show me the boathouse this morning," Hanamichi began to explain to Akira eagerly, his eyes bright. "She says we can row out on the lake."

Akira looked at him fondly. Hanamichi couldn't have looked any happier than at this simple prospect of spending time in a boat with the object of his affection.

Across the table, the elder Akagi sibling kept his eyes on his plate. But despite all the politics, the love was easy to see.

Haruko's eyes turned sweetly upon Hanamichi. "Sometimes there are swans," she told him. "And once I saw a pair of herons under the willow." She smiled. "I can't wait to show you..." she dropped her eyes shyly, "...Hanamichi-sama."

Hanamichi went bright red to the tips of his ears. Akira couldn't keep the amused smile off his face. The fact that another precious love was blossoming that, not so long ago would have been totally taboo, was intensely gratifying. Even though he and Kaede still had to hide their relationship, things like this made it almost tolerable.

Two herons under the willow. Isn't that where I first saw him?

He glanced around the room once again. "Where's Kaede?" he asked curiously.

Hanamichi looked over at him. "He left already. About an hour ago."

Akira stared at him, uncomprehending. Left? Left for where?

His brother read the confusion on his face. "Akira..." he muttered, lifting his eyebrows meaningfully, "...have you forgotten the date?"

Sendoh Akira stilled. October third.

"Oh..." he breathed in realisation. "So that's why..."

Akagi Takenori raised his eyes to watch him. Akira took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Hanamichi..." he began, his mind working rapidly. "...do you know about the Konan problem?"

Hanamichi shrugged. "Sure."

"I want to use Yasuda to re-distribute the stock between three of the Tsujiki houses before next week, and leave Konan empty for a while since it's getting hot."

"Uhm, okay. Makes sense."

"I need you to go and meet Koshino this morning and get it sorted out for me. Can you do that?"

An agonized expression crossed Hanamichi's face. "But..." he began, his eyes turning towards Haruko, his plans of a morning spent on the lake disintegrating. He sighed. "Ok. Ok sure. No problem. Akagi-san can we... postpone to another time?"

Haruko nodded with a smile and a quiet look towards her brother. Akira saw the look and read it carefully.

I entrust Hanamichi with an important task, and he rises to it. He looks good in front of Akagi Takenori. She knows that, even if Hanamichi hasn't worked it out yet. This boring meeting with Koshino might do more for their relationship than a dozen days on the lake.

He felt a new respect for Haruko Akagi. "I'm sorry," he told her, "it seems I am not able to stay for breakfast after all."

She gave a slight bow of her head. "At your pleasure, Sendoh-sama."

He realised he really wouldn't mind her as his sister-in-law.

The Akagi family. I guess there's a reason they're as influential as they are.

"Go already!" Hanamichi told him with a huff, waving a hand dismissively and turning back to his plate. "Go and look after your Fox."

Akira nodded, "Please excuse me..."

He rose from the table and strode swiftly from the room.

We, ignorant of ourselves,

Beg often our own harm

Kaede stepped out of the car and looked up at the house. His home. And yet... not his home.

Changed. Nothing physical. Nothing he could see. But changed none the less. Inside. Outside. Himself most of all. He was twelve years old, but he felt like he'd seen more than anyone could want in a lifetime. No one was there to meet him, the prodigal son.

Former son.

The driver didn't hang around, the sleek Mercedes rumbling away the minute he closed the door. He shouldered his bag and forced himself to walk to the main entrance, gravel crunching under his feet. So familiar, and yet so far away from him.

"K- Kaede-sama," a housemaid opened the door for him as he approached, stuttering over his name. He didn't recognise her. She must be new. She gave him a bow, but everything about her was stiff and anxious. The eyes she had for him were fearful. His reputation had preceded him as usual.

Broken.

Demented.

Murderer.

He ignored her, and made his way towards the stairs. The house seemed huge and empty and unfriendly. Had it always been this cold?

"Kaede..." Akagi emerged from his office by the stairs, his teenaged son Takenori right behind him. Kaede froze with one foot on the lowest step. Very slowly he turned his head and fixed his cold eyes on the man, animosity rolling off him like a wall. To his satisfaction, he saw some of the colour drain from Takenori's face, although Akagi senior was too old and wily to be easily intimidated.

Kaede moved his tongue around his mouth, tasting his anger. Willing it. Stirring it up like a shield.

Unacceptable.

Finally, with very slow, deliberate speech as if talking to an idiot, he demanded, "What did you call me?"

Akagi considered him for a moment, as if weighing up the cost of arguing. The scales must have come out in Kaede's favor because Akagi eventually bowed from the waist, not a trace of insincerity in his expression.

"Forgive me, Kaede-sama."

Kaede did not let up his ferocious stare. They were trying to put him in his place, but he wasn't going to go down that easily. He might only be twelve years old, but he knew how it worked.

He was about to say more when the sudden noise of running feet made him look up. Kiminobu Kogure was flying down the staircase in excitement.

"Kaede!" He gasped. "Kaede, Kaede!"

The name that had been so poisonous from Akagi's mouth was miraculously sweet on Kogure's pale lips.

Kogure stopped two steps above where Kaede was standing, rocking back and forth on his heels, the hands by his sides trembling in suppressed excitement, his lips parted and panting softly. He barely seemed to be able to hold in his joy.

Kaede licked his suddenly dry lips, not sure what to do, conscious of Akagi's eyes on him.

Two years. Had it really been only two years? It felt like a thousand. He had changed so much. He stared up at him; Kiminobu Kogure. The only one who looked at him with something other than fear or disgust. But he was no longer the child Kaede remembered. He stood there on the step, tall and handsome and different. Fifteen years old. It felt like he was far beyond Kaede's reach.

Kaede had to draw upon every mental barrier he possessed not to just turn beggar before the promise of Kogure's warmth. Not to just collapse at his feet and cry in gratitude for his presence.

"Rukawa-sama asked to see you," Akagi prompted. "As soon as you arrived."

Kaede nodded briefly, but couldn't take his eyes away from Kiminobu. He wanted to touch him, just to believe that he was real. He wanted to smell him, hold his body softly against his own and sink into his comfort. But he kept his expression straight, and forced himself into coldness.

"Sempai," he managed to acknowledge him coolly, his voice was steady and unfriendly, his eyes blank.

I can't afford to look weak, he scolded himself silently. Not now. I can't... love you right now. Sempai. You understand, don't you?

Kogure did not seem disappointed by the less than friendly greeting. He only smiled at him, holding even his fiercest gaze tenderly. Although everything about him had changed, the look in Kogure's eyes remained the same. They hadn't seen each other for two whole years, yet Kogure seemed to understand Kaede's silent plea.

"After you," he said, stepping respectfully to one side, giving a bow and a look that was half love and half mischief. "Kaede-sama."

Kaede climbed the stairs, heading towards Anzai's office, and Kogure trailed respectfully behind. But once everyone was out of sight, he tugged on his arm and when Kaede turned towards him, threw his arms around his neck and held him tightly. Kaede froze, awkward in his embrace.

The gorgeous, fifteen-year-old body that Kogure pressed against him seemed to be overflowing with newly awoken sexuality. He was stunning, Kaede realised vaguely. The thought of what Hisashi might do to a body like this one caused him an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

But Kogure ignored his stiffness, took his face in his hands and kissed his cheek. "I've missed you," he murmured, his lips soft against Kaede's skin. "I've missed you so much." His hands lifted to brush through Kaede's silken hair. "And you're getting so tall." He gave a weak laugh. "I'm so glad. So glad that you're home."

Kaede gently pushed him away and Kogure moved back at once, a flush of joy on his cheeks, his lips turned upwards into a smile.

But there was something off about him. Kaede stared, trying to work it out. Had the last two years been hard on him? His face was slightly gaunt. He seemed a little too thin.

"Have you been eating properly?" he questioned.

Kogure lifted his hands self-consciously to his cheeks, and that's when Kaede saw it.

"Sempai?" he asked, tracing the bandage with his eyes.

But Kogure only shook his head and tugged his sleeves down further. "It's nothing. Really." He smiled. "It's only sometimes."

Kaede reached out, and Kogure did not try to stop him. Kaede gently pushed his sleeves back to reveal rows of neat cuts the whole length of Kogure's forearms. He stared.

"Where's Hisashi?" he demanded at once.

"Around..." Kogure flushed.

"Has he not been looking after you?" Kaede asked, his expression turning fierce.

Kogure seemed surprised and shook his head right and left. "Of course he has. It's just... me." His gentle expression remained. He made no attempt to hide the marks from Kaede's eyes. "I... I just want to, sometimes. Just... sometimes. It feels... good. Hisashi doesn't get it, but you…" he looked appealing into Kaede's face, "…you know how it feels, don't you? You always understand, Kaede."

Kaede arranged his face to look stern. "Don't do this to yourself sempai," he told him scoldingly.

Kogure gave a playful smile and lifted Kaede's hand to his lips, kissing it affectionately. "I won't. I promise. But you promise too. Don't leave me behind again. It's too hard to breathe without you."

Kaede frowned, hesitated, but was finally unable to resist reaching out just one hesitant hand to brush his cheek.

"I promise, sempai. I'm sorry for being away so long."

Kogure leaned into his hand and smiled back warmly. "Welcome home Kaede."

I'll make death love me; for I will contend

Even with his pestilent scythe.

The dew laden grass clung to his shoes and the hem of his trousers as he traipsed through the parkland. The river and lake were away to his left, the trees ahead, behind him the house - his house - and all the memories it contained. He kept walking.

He followed the most direct route towards the west gate and the mansion gradually receded behind the rise of the slope. Ahead of him, the low walls of the memorial garden came slowly into view.

Something was wrong, he knew. He could feel it inside himself. Even though he'd tried to ignore it, tried to hide it, hoping it was nothing, in the end he knew it was something. And it frightened him a little bit.

The garden was an ancient place, carefully tended, traditional, older by far than the house itself which had been renovated and rebuilt many times in the family's long history.

The quiet conifers were still in the windless air as Kaede crunched swiftly across the tidy gravel beneath their spreading arms.

He disliked this place intensely. There were tall stones, lanterns, monuments, beneath the trees, set not in rows but simply placed with a sort of haphazard beauty in and among the landscape. It was very organic, peaceful, calm. And yet the names of ancient ancestors stared out at him accusingly - some faded beyond reading, others sharp and unkind in their outlook.

As if they knew.

Ancient eyes. Distant ancestors. Too many warriors and fighters and rivals. Too many lives lived in hatred. Miserable old men who'd probably never known what it meant to love.

Traitor. He could hear them call him in the silence. Dog. Whore of Sendoh. How dare you?

How dare you subjugate our great house?

How dare you usurp your brother's seat?

He frowned and pressed onwards quickly, silencing them with a shake of his head.

The most recent graves appeared ahead of him, to the right of the main path, and he veered towards them. Three white arches in a row.

The right-most grave was for a woman he had never met - Mitsui Sayuri - died in childbirth. First wife to Anzai who now lay beside her, and mother to Hisashi.

A small granite bench faced Hisashi's stone - the date of which was eight long years ago today - and he frequented it often.

He sat down carefully, feeling chilled by the late autumn air and the cold granite which seeped through his clothes.

He turned his eyes to stare at the second name on that same stone.

Kogure Kiminobu.

Kogure Kiminobu.

Kogure Kiminobu.

Even now they still called him by that false name Hisashi had given him.

He bit down on his lip, feeling something large and unwelcome churn in his stomach. He probably shouldn't have come here and yet somehow he wasn't able to stay away. Wasn't able to resist the lure, the persistent memories, the satisfying feeling of penitent pain that overcame him as he sat and traced that name again, and again, and again. He scored those words with his eyes and into his mind like he was dragging a knife over his arm. The same wound. Deepening. Deepening. He hissed softly and finally closed his eyes as it became too much.

Goddamnit - why?

why?

He'd asked the stone a thousand times before and received no answers.

I just want to see your smile, he tried to appeal to him.

I want you to run down the stairs when I walk into the house.

I want to lie with you on the bathroom floor.

I want...

Sempai, I want… one more chance.

The sound of a wretched wet sob escaped his throat. Pathetic and ugly. He tried to shut it down, strangle it, hold it back, but a second one came. And then a third. He clamped two hands over his mouth as if he could trap it all inside, but it was futile. The thoughts - the regrets, the pain - kept coming. A wave that mounted and flooded his defences. It became worse. More powerful. More insistent. He groaned into his palms, his eyes screwing up tight. He couldn't hold it back. He couldn't bring it under control.

Just... one more chance. He found himself begging the stone. Please. This time...

I'll never leave you alone again.

His body began to shake.

Give me one more chance. One more chance to save you. Properly, this time.

I won't just rely on Hisashi. I'll help you find happiness. Real happiness. I'll do it, I promise... I'll…

He felt dizzy and ill, swaying where he sat. He took a frightened gasp of air, feeling his control slipping, loosening. Oh... oh, no... no... he groaned, slipping off the bench and falling to his knees in the soil.

His mind continued to spin away from him even as he scrabbled to hold it fast.

Just one more chance. Silent tears were sliding down his face. He wiped at them frantically, but they wouldn't stop. Please sempai, I can do better. It doesn't have to be this way. Please. I can't I can't I can't bear it.

You didn't... have to go.

The darkness rose behind him, a huge, impenetrable black. It forced its way through the conifers like a noxious cloud, engulfing the garden, the path, the old stones and grave markers. It stretched across the sky, blotching the clouds, sinking the sun. It curled around his eyeballs and darkened his irises. It smelt like ash and death.

He shook his head. No, no, no, get back, keep back-!

The wave of darkness sloshed wetly against his legs, clinging to his clothes like tar. He lurched away from it, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Sempai?" he gasped aloud, his hands twisting in the empty air, seeking him, his comfort, his protection. "Sempai!" He crawled desperately towards the gravestone, the only thing he could see, his hands scrabbling at the floor, gritty with soil.

No, no, no, where are you? I need you. Help me, please, I…

He pushed his hands against him, desperate for his warmth, and found nothing but the cold stone. The black rushed in upon him. He opened his mouth as if he would scream, but only despair filled his throat like he was drowning.

When my good stars, that were my former guides,

Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires

Into th'abysm of hell.

A quiet squeak – that was his door. And then a whisper came through the gloom.

"Kaede?"

He let out a long, low breath.

"Sempai" he said in relief.

A rustle of clothes as silent, slippered feet shuffled towards him and then he felt something bump into the bed. There was a hiss. "I can't see a thing – where are you?"

He disentangled himself from the blanket and crawled on hands and knees to the other end of the bed, the springs groaning under his shifting weight. He reached out blindly into the pitch black, not even able to see his hand before his face. He brushed against the rough fabric of a simple bathrobe. He felt his way up it, finding a thin arm and, at the end of it, a small hand which he raised to his mouth and kissed affectionately.

"Found you."

He gently tugged at the hand and Kiminobu came to him without resistance, allowing the younger boy to coax him tenderly into the warmth of the bed, their shapes entwining together. Kaede's arms lovingly surrounded him, drawing him as close as possible in a gentle and familiar embrace. He buried his nose in the soft hair and inhaled his scent contentedly.

"Thank you," he whispered. Kogure only nodded silently against his chest. Kaede savoured their closeness for a few moments before continuing. "I wanted to tell you that I will be... meeting with Akira Sendoh this weekend."

It was quite possibly the strangest thing he could have said, but Kogure gave no obvious sign of surprise at this peculiar revelation. He only shifted contentedly in his arms and gave a soft "Mmm" of comprehension.

"I want you to know in case something goes wrong" Kaede explained. The warning not to tell Hisashi was obvious. Kaede didn't even need to say it.

"Do you think it will?" Kogure's voice was muffled as he spoke into the cloth of Kaede's nightshirt.

The younger boy thought for a moment – "no" he admitted, "but it's best to allow for the possibility."

"Are you going to kill him?" Straight to the brutal point. Kaede shifted with unease.

"Not… yet…"

"Hisashi was furious when you let him go before."

Kaede did not reply. Kogure did not press him. His thin arms wandered across Kaede's back.

"What do you think of it?" Kaede asked finally.

"Of you meeting with Sendoh?"

"Yes."

The smaller boy was silent in thought for a good while, considering carefully.

"It's a good idea."

"Is it?" Kaede queried, his voice becoming foggy with relaxation brought about by Kogure's light, warm body.

The older boy gave a tiny shrug, "You might find out something helpful," he said. "Isn't it still your intention to kill Taoka?"

Kaede nodded briefly.

He was glad to have it justified by Kogure. It helped to ease the strange feeling of guilt which was still grinding in his stomach after his meeting with Akira at the diner earlier in the afternoon. He wondered why he couldn't control his feelings of culpability.

Kogure twisted in his embrace, freeing their bare legs from their innocent mesh. Kaede knew that he needed to return to his room before he was missed. Reluctantly he let him go and Kogure extracted himself from the tangle of bed sheets and limbs.

"See you in the morning, Kaede," a whisper brief and quiet. The words were followed by the sound of quiet footfalls as Kogure left the room as quickly and silently as he had come, swallowed up by the darkness of the house.

Kaede writhed under the covers, hoping to find a comfortable position in which sleep might find him, but it wouldn't come. His mind was unexplainably full of Akira Sendoh. How would their meeting go? What would they do? What might they say? He reminded himself of a teenager going on a first date. He hated that.

What, are the brothers parted?

Kogure followed the plush carpets back to his and Hisashi's shared bedroom silently. He had slipped out unnoticed while Hisashi had slept, and intended to return the same way.

He stopped short, however, when he saw a narrow slit of light issuing from underneath the bedroom door. It made a triangular patch of red on the otherwise dark carpet of the hallway. Kogure stood and stared at it, realising at once what it meant; Hisashi must have woken up and found him missing.

The effect on his body was immediate. His blood began to pound in his ears and he clenched and unclenched his hands, standing chilled in the midnight corridor. Hisashi's anger frightened him.

Kogure's arms went up to hug himself, pondering what to do. There didn't seem to be any choice for him but to face the reprimand that would be due as punishment for his midnight stroll.

With a trembling hand he reached out and turned the doorknob which seemed unusually slippery in his grasp, he couldn't quite get a hold on it. It took him a few attempts to finally manage to push the door open. As soon as he did so the light which had been imprisoned on the other side burst out into the dark corridor, no doubt glad to be escaping the black aura of the young man who lay awake on top of the bed covers.

Hisashi was dressed in a simple white t-shirt which displayed a New York Knicks basketball logo, and plain black silk boxers that revealed the attractive shape of his thighs. He had been flicking disinterestedly through muted TV stations on the huge TV screen which dominated the wall opposite from the king-sized bed. As soon as Kogure stepped in he pressed a button on the remote and the colours on the screen died.

"Where have you been?"

Kogure trembled at the sound of that voice as he attempted to close the door behind him.

"With Kaede," he muttered quietly.

"I can't hear you," Hisashi hissed.

"With Kaede," Kogure repeated, louder. There was no point in lying about it.

"With Kaede," the taller boy sneered mockingly. He got up from the bed and Kogure couldn't help but take a small step backwards. The cold blue eyes looked him up and down suspiciously.

"Strip," was the order.

Kogure blinked and stared blankly at the floor a few feet in front of him. He didn't move.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Kiminobu."

Kogure glanced up into the menacing face of his lover. The look he saw there caused him to start to do as he was told with shaking fingers.

The sash around his bathrobe loosened and he shrugged the whole thing off his shoulders so it fell to the floor at his feet. Underneath he wore a soft white t-shirt and sleeping shorts in baby blue. The t-shirt came off first, ruffling his hair as it passed over his head, leaving his smooth, pale chest exposed to the cool air of the room. His skin rose in goose bumps. Next he pushed his fingers down under the waistband of his shorts and wiggled his hips to send them sliding down his pale legs. He straightened, clad in only his navy blue briefs, and looked with question at Hisashi.

"Everything," the other boy hissed.

Kogure's face flushed a pale pink, but he didn't argue. He pushed the last protective piece of his clothing to the floor to join the rest. He shivered with cold as he stood naked, waiting nervously for whatever Hisashi had in mind.

Hisashi crossed the distance to him in three firm strides. Kogure fought his instinct to shrink back, even when Hisashi stood directly in front of him, less than a breath away, drawn up to his full height and overshadowing the smaller boy menacingly.

"With Kaede" he sneered again in the same mocking tone, and then he moved. He reached out suddenly and grabbed a fistful of Kogure's soft hair, wrenching his neck backwards. Kogure didn't have time to cry out because Hisashi yanked again brutally to the side and Kogure lost his balance with the motion, slamming frontally into the low dresser that was situated at the side of the room. The breath was knocked entirely out of him and his arms flailed uselessly, looking for a handhold on the smooth dresser surface. Hisashi used his full weight to pin the smaller boy bent over the piece of wooden furniture, one hand still clenched in his hair, the other reaching down between his legs.

Two ruthless, dry fingers forced their way inside the small opening there, causing him to yelp. Hisashi dug them in as deep as he could, Kogure writhing and crying pitifully underneath him.

When he couldn't push any further, Hisashi felt around for a while, twisting and turning his fingers mercilessly, and then withdrew the digits. Holding them up to the light he examined them, sniffed them and finally licked them curiously. There was no trace of semen.

Beneath him Kogure became passive and limp, no longer attempting to struggle free. With his cheek pressed hard against the wooden surface of the dresser so that his ragged breath made little patches of dampness he pleaded;

"...Kaede would never-"

Before he couId say more, Hisashi pulled Kogure up to his feet by his hair fiercely and thrust him towards the bed. With two hands he pushed his own boxers to the floor, fumbling in his eagerness.

"I don't trust my brother for a second" he hissed as he crawled onto the bed behind him, putting his hand on the back of Kogure's head and forcing his face down into the pillows.

Kogure's moans were muffled by the fabric.

He pushed Kogure's thighs apart with his body, noticing with amusement that the boy was already aroused, leaking thin translucent liquid down his thighs.

Hisashi suppressed his own moan of pleasure. The sight of Kogure's surrender, his utterly pitiful mewling desperation, his arching back and trembling thighs, made him strain in eagerness. Kogure's body always begged for him. Drew him in. Loved him so eagerly. Fitted so tightly.

The sounds he made, in pain, in ecstasy, the sight of his blood red and hot and bright against his skin was always too much, too much for Hisashi to resist.

As he entered him, he pulled his head up and back by the hair and whispered, "Scream for me, Kiminobu. Scream so my brother can hear you. I want him to hear everything I do to you."

"Hisashi-" Kogure groaned, delirious, pushing back against his lover's length, accepting and adoring, arching his back wantonly, hissing and seething with the pain even as he begged for it. "Please- ah. Ah!"

"Louder," Hisashi rumbled in his ear.

Kogure stretched his thighs further apart, pulling him in deeper. "Harder," he begged, his voice straining, gathering in volume, his breathing ragged. "Hisashi, Hisashi, please..." he let out a strangled cry, clutching helplessly at the bedsheets, "please, harder, harder, harder, ugh, ah, AH!"

Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love.

Later, when Hisashi finally dropped tiredly beside him, Kogure collapsed against the sheets, smearing between his stomach and the bed the orgasms Hisashi had ripped from his body. His breathing was hard and unsteady, his muscles exhausted. He curled himself into a ball and pushed himself insistently against Hisashi's warmth like a puppy seeking its mother.

Hisashi ran his hands gently over his naked back, marveling at the beauty, relishing his most treasured possession.

"Goddamnit but I love you so much Kiminobu."

Kogure only gave an adoring moan in reply, bringing three of Hisashi's fingers into his mouth, suckling on them soothingly.

And make death proud to take us.

At fifteen years old, Rukawa Kaede was finally taller than his brother and his sempai. He looked a little awkward, fitting his long legs into the rowboat.

At eighteen, however, Kogure Kiminobu was a vision. Every limb and feature perfect, skin flawless, his motions elegant and effortlessly sensual. Even his simple cotton robe looked like couture on his reclining frame, clinging to his legs and hips, uneven at the shoulders, showing a little more of his collarbone and throat on one side. The afternoon was already drawing on, but his hair was unbrushed and untidy. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes despite the clouds overhead. He was trailing his fingers in the chilly water of the lake, dangling his arm over the side. His chin was propped on his other hand, his body and legs long and elegantly stretched across the width of the boat, gazing idly down into the depths.

The oars made circular patterns on the surface, dragging lethargically through the water. The lake reflected the grey sky above, sad and colourless. Kogure's eyes gazed unseeing at the world sliding slowly past.

He gave a low groan.

"I feel like utter shit," he confessed.

Kaede watched him curiously, rowing them smoothly through the dull day. Birds were gathering in the trees lining the shore, filling the air with noise and occasional darting motions towards the lake surface.

Kogure had said the lake breeze would be helpful for his hangover. Kaede mostly just felt cold. Hisashi was still in bed.

"How come you're dressed for work?" Kogure queried finally, turning eyes towards Kaede. He was wearing all black; trousers, a light jacket, smart shoes. There was a very particular look in his eyes that always made Kogure shudder. A thin sheen of blood. A little glimpse of that unfathomable darkness. "Did you already go out this morning?"

"I went to finish up that trouble you had at the club."

"What trouble? I can't remember."

Kaede's eyes didn't flicker. "Two guys were bothering you."

"Oh, yes. That's right." Kogure put one hand to his forehead and groaned softly. "Didn't Hisashi kill them? How did you get involved?"

"They weren't alone. They've been operating out of a fleahouse downtown. Six guys."

"Oh..." Kogure peered at him. "And now?"

Kaede's eyes fixed on him. "Now there's none."

"Oh." Kogure's face fell. "I'm... so sorry. I didn't mean to cause extra work for you, Kaede."

"They put their hands on you," Kaede pointed out. "They deserved worse."

Kogure frowned deeper. "I'm sorry," he repeated quietly. He turned his gaze back to the cool water that swirled around his hand, his posture unhappy.

"Sempai...?"

Those soft eyes behind their sunglasses lifted to Kaede's face.

"...did you... get hurt?"

He was confused for a moment, before realising that Kaede was looking at a red welt on his shoulder. He smiled and adjusted his bathrobe to hide it. "No, it's nothing."

"You always say that."

"Well it's true."

Kaede was silent for a moment. It wasn't his place to ask and yet for some reason today, he couldn't help it.

"Why does he hurt you?" he blurted.

Kogure turned his eyes back to the shore and didn't answer straight away. He seemed to be thinking about it. "Because it's what he wants to do," he decided finally.

Kaede frowned. "Why do you let him?"

"Because I... I like it."

Kaede's expression turned dubious.

"I don't understand," he said after a while.

Kogure moved, turning around to face upwards to the sky, putting two arms behind his head and propping his naked ankles on the lip of the row boat instead. The robe fell open to his thighs.

"That's because you're different to me, Kaede. You need someone to love you sweetly," Kogure said. "A girl who's caring. Gentle. Who can give you something very pure."

Gentle. Caring. Pure. For a moment, Kaede recalled the feeling of the tree at his back, the burning sensation of Akira's lips against his own. He shook his head determinedly. "I only need you, sempai."

Kogure smiled. "I love you. Very much. But my love is neither sweet nor worthy."

There was silence for a while. Kaede kept rowing and said nothing.

"When you fall in love," Kogure moved his hand in a broad sweep as if to extinguish the entire shore, "you'll see the whole world change. And then you won't need me anymore."

"That won't happen, sempai."

"I'm a broken mirror, Kaede. That's all." He shook his head and tipped his face up to the sky. "You need someone who can do more than just reflect your pain."

Kaede pressed his lips together.

Kogure closed his eyes contentedly as his thoughts meandered, a gentle breath of air playing about his fringe. "I don't want you to always be in pain," he said softly.

"But what about your pain?" Kaede protested.

Kogure did not move from his reclining position.

"Pain, pleasure," he smiled wryly to himself. "It's all the same to me."

Kaede's thoughts drifted to Akira again. That annoying smile, his patronising expression, his hand on his cheek, the look in his eye as he bent his head to-

Irritated with himself he tried to shake his head to clear it. It didn't seem to work. His memory throwing up inconvenient recollections of his words, his face, his actions. It was distracting. It was... aggravating.

"Do you honestly love Hisashi?" he blurted.

"I honestly do."

"...why?" Kaede demanded.

Kogure's eyes flickered open.

He is a god.

An absolute master.

"Hisashi is my King," he replied softly.

Kaede stared at him for a moment, then shook his head in confusion and sighed.

Silently Kogure straightened and moved from his seat, sitting directly on the floor of the small row boat instead, right between Kaede's feet. His rested his head against Kaede's thigh, winding one arm around his lower leg, and closed his eyes.

"Sempai?"

"May I be close to you for a while?"

The birds swooped and called. The gentle splash of the oars permeated the quiet. Kogure's body was warm against his leg, his breathing soft and contented, seemingly unaware of the bothersome thoughts buzzing through Kaede's mind like mosquitos. The afternoon wiled itself away.

"Do you ever wish you could live a different kind of life?" Kaede asked aloud.

Kogure did not hesitate. "Never," he replied.

"But are you... happy?"

He laughed then.

"Kaede," he answered, thoroughly amused. "What the hell has happiness got to do with us?"

The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,

Which hurts and is desired.

Akira stood and stared at the three graves. There was no one there. The seat where Kaede usually sat was decidedly empty. He furrowed his brow slightly. He had been sure, he had been so sure, that Kaede would be here. He cast his eyes about in confusion, taking in the trees, the grey sky, and quiet solitude.

Had something happened to him?

A wave of deep anxiety suddenly rose in his chest. Kaede was still prone to bouts of depression, haunted by frequent vicious nightmares that left him gasping and even vomiting. Akira knew how deep the wounds went. How tempestuous the storms that overtook him from time to time were. He felt his heart speed up anxiously.

"Kaede?" he asked the silent cemetery. Where are you?

His eyes fell on the name carved into the stone - Kogure Kiminobu - and he frowned.

What have you done with him? he demanded silently. Don't you dare try to take him away from me, damn you.

Then he heard it. The smallest sound. A mere scratching that seemed to come from the grave itself, as if Kogure Kiminobu was answering him. He walked forwards with large, anxious strides.

He found him hidden behind the stone, sitting with his back to it, his knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried in his arms, shaking.

Akira felt a short moment of profound relief. He's not hurt.

"Kaede..?" he whispered.

The boy did not answer.

Akira moved around the stone and crouched beside him. He shook his shoulder gently. "Kaede?" he repeated softly. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Look at me."

He did not look up, but a pale hand reached out and took ferocious hold of his sleeve, digging his fingers into the fabric until they turned white.

"Sem...pai?" he whispered hopefully.

Akira had to close his eyes for a moment. "No," he answered regretfully. "It's... it's just me."

"A- Aki- ra...?"

His voice was rough. Barely above a whisper.

"A- Akira," he repeated, seizing upon the name as if he'd only just remembered it. He raised his head and met Akira's concerned gaze. He looked confused, as if he didn't know where he was, his mind half in the past. His lips were parted, his eyes absolutely stunning in their most brilliant shade of anxiety; round and framed by dark lashes and tears.

He pulled on Akira's sleeve, dragging him closer so that Akira fell forward onto his knees in the mud beside him.

"Akira," he repeated a final time, his voice now full of intense relief, the torment in his eyes seeming to retreat a little as his gaze wandered over Akira's face, devouring it with his stare. He let out an anxious hiccup.

Akira reached out and put his arms around him. "Yeah, I'm... I'm here now."

Kaede squirmed a little in his embrace, pressing himself into Akira's body, lifting his hands to clutch at his back.

"Are you okay?" Akira pressed him.

Kaede remained silent. Akira held him tighter, feeling each ragged breath he drew.

"Will you tell me?"

There was still no reply.

Akira frowned. It was difficult to manage Kaede's chaos sometimes. From experience he knew that firmness worked better than sweetness. Sometimes he just needed to put his hands against his soul and tug at it until he surrendered. "Don't try to shut me out," he told him. "Speak."

"I... I'm trying..." Kaede managed to whispered.

Akira arranged his expression to look stern, his voice became a little stricter. He took Kaede's chin between his fingers and tilted his head up so their breaths mingled in the chill air.

Kaede gazed up into his face. Akira's eyes offered him same demand and the same promise.

I am your master.

Surrender.

Surrender to me and I will protect you. Even from yourself.

"Speak," Akira demanded.

One master, and one vassal. Rukawa Kaede always obeyed him in the end.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Akira I... I can't seem to... forget," he murmured anxiously.

Akira waited, forcing himself to remain firm. The impulse to comfort him was overpowering, but it was better to force Kaede to confront his emotions rather than allow him to keep burying them.

Kaede hesitated, struggling to express his feelings.

"I... I don't know how to... forgive myself." he explained anxiously, stumbling over his words.

"You didn't do anything that needs forgiveness, Kaede. It wasn't your fault."

Kaede shook his head. "I keep thinking about him," he confessed. "I keep remembering things." He shook his head. "I try not to but I…I... what I did… it was… I…" his voice collapsed into a whisper. "They call me a monster. Maybe they're right."

Akira could not resist pulling him tighter into his embrace. Kaede pushed his face into his chest.

"Kaede..." Akira breathed, "You're no such thing. You're strong, that's all. So incredibly strong. You did what you had to do. Kogure-san knew that."

Kaede groaned anxiously into his shoulder. "It was my fault. It's my fault that he's gone…" he blinked anxiously. "It... Akira, it... it hurts so much."

"It's okay, Kaede."

"It wasn't fair."

"I... know."

"I promised him. I promised him that I wouldn't leave him behind and I..."

O, never was there queen

So mightily betray'd.

Akira gripped him tightly. Sometimes it seemed like Kaede was getting worse but he knew it was deceptive. It was getting closer to his surface, that was all. The pain he'd always hidden inside was gradually becoming visible.

It was a part of healing, Akira reminded himself. He had to feel the pain before he could process it, however difficult it was. And there was so much. So many nightmares. So many memories and fears and long-burried hurts.

Eight years. It's taken him eight years to even become aware of this pain.

He turned his eyes towards the silent, indifferent gravestone.

Are you listening? He wondered. Kogure Kiminobu, wherever you are. Why did you give up on a love as powerful as this?

"I'm just so happy Akira," Kaede's quiet voice whispered hoarsely into his shirt.

Surprised, Akira looked down at him. Kaede's eyes were closed, reddened by his tears, his brows drawn, his cheek pressed hard against Akira's chest. He looked utterly wretched. Happy...?

Kaede's eyes fluttered open to look up at him, and the emotion in his face was unusually raw. Strikingly visible. It took Akira's breath away. Simple and sincere. Absolute and unconditional.

Love.

Akira's heart clenched.

"But he's not here to see it, Akira. I..." Kaede took a noisy drag of air.

I can't bear that he died alone, and in so much pain. I want to... share this with him. I want to sit with him and tell him about it.

Akira's gentle face filled his vision, and Kaede clung to him anxiously.

"I just want him to know how..." he gave a hiccup, "...how happy I am. How much I... love you."

Akira's face broke into a smile.

"He knows," he answered warmly.

Kaede sniffled. "...does he?"

"Of course. That I can promise you, Kaede. He knows."

Akira leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips, momentarily reckless, not even caring if anyone might see them. He could feel Kaede trembling beneath his hands.

"So don't you forget this, Kaede," he continued, keeping his lips pressed against Kaede's even as he spoke, so that they were flush and intimate, their noses butting tenderly together. "I love you. You are everything to me. You are the source of all my joy. What you are is something good. Something beautiful. And Kogure Kiminobu was not the only one who knew it. I see it too.

"And although I can't make you forget the pain, I will do what I have always tried to do. I will fill you with so much love that those painful holes in your soul are always full. That is my promise to you, Rukawa Kaede."

Twin tracks of tears finally spilt silently over Kaede's lashes. He closed his eyes and moaned softly, leaving himself totally helpless in Akira's arms. Akira brushed his tears away with one thumb, tilted his head, and kissed him deeply.

Sempai... can you be happy for me?

I will prove it to you.

Happiness.

I'll show you what it means. I'll make you feel it too.

Even though you are not with me any more.

I will make so much

that it will reach you wherever you are.

I miss you.

And I love you.

Always.

Look, here I have you,

thus I let you go,

And give you to

the gods.

-the end

—

Happy birthday Kaede! 1st Jan 2019

Small update 2nd Jan 2019