This is written around the time that Akira and his group joined the school and when the Dire Wolves became a part of the story. And it may contain some other instances.

Disclaimer/Warning: I use 'bitch' at least once in this fic, and I use it in the technical term for a female unsprayed canid. Please don't take offense if that's what you feel about the word.

Summary: It didn't take long for legends to sly about Ernest the Dire wolf, he was a great and impressive beast after all. Akira and Ernest have an incredibly intimate, primal relationship, one forged on the exhaustion of leaders, and the mutuality of the strong. When Akira finds out that these legends wove elaborate tales of the relationship between Ernest and himself he is surprised, but is even more surprised when they're spot on.

The Gaze of Leaders

Beta'd by the beautiful 'Pure Red Cane'

Akira never asked to be a leader.

He didn't want to be one. He didn't try to be one. All he knew was that he had people to protect, and a world that would not tolerate late bloomers.

But there were late bloomers in his pack and Akira wasn't about to let them go anywhere. He wasn't about to let them die, too many had already gone. Too many people he cared about and took under his wing had already died, and he wasn't about to let others go.

Sometimes he couldn't control this world, but that didn't mean he wasn't about to slaughter it to keep his pack intact.

It was an intense feeling. It was primal, and it threatened to draw a growl from Akira's gut when the wolves tried to take Miina from him. It awoke something in him, something that would never be shut down.

It woke up a part of Akira that was very much willing to admit that he was a leader and that he was not about to let anyone take his pack.

Yarai may be his second, his Kings-man and his confidant, but Yarai would never take his pack either. Not without killing him. However, Akira trusted Yarai to never take the pack that wasn't his, but also to protect it should Akira lose to a world that took either leaders, or the ones the leaders protected. Mariya was Akira's intelligence and his grounding. He was the one who kept him on the short and narrow, making sure his protective fury didn't land him in more pain. Mariya wouldn't even dream of taking the pride from Akira, he could see the sheer ferocity in Akira's protective instinct, and wouldn't dare test it.

But neither of these men were leaders in the same way Akira was, neither could take the pack from him, and neither would ever dream of it. They both depended on Akira to lead, and that was the difference.

At the time, the wolf was nameless. He was just the scarred leader who called the pack away once Akira had Miina in his arms. But their eyes had met.

Just for a moment.

Still, a moment was enough and Akira saw himself in those yellow eyes and scarred face. He saw a pack leader who knew that some fights weren't worth fighting. He saw a beast who cared for what was his. Akira saw himself, or what he could become in time, in the scarred wolf who commanded complete control and trust from his pack, and whom gave it back.

It was the shared look of a leader, one of respect of the positon, one that didn't assure kindness or humility, but at least understood the burdens on shoulders –ready or not.

But then it was gone, and Akira had to wonder if he saw it at all. The heat in his gut and the snarl dying in his throat told him that it was, but he had other issues to deal with.

He was preoccupied with throwing perverted dangers out of the pack in the form of teachers whom should have been trusted.

He was preoccupied with bringing in 23 waifs and strays that trusted him with no need to, and having to make sure his –suddenly bigger, suddenly vulnerable, suddenly his– pack worked. He needed to mend it and make sure they all found their place and rhythm in the suddenly large dynamic.

He was preoccupied with trying to build a country, a safety. He was trying to build a home and a house, a castle and a freedom, a place to learn, to grieve, to grow. He was trying to be a King, one that Yarai could laugh at and continue to respect. But still, he didn't think of the Wolves, because new things came and went.

He was finding new faces, and dealing with their shit, because they brought that shit into his pack.

Akira had little time to wonder about a Wolf they named Earnest for his deeds of strength and resilience in the face of monstrous bears.

Because the second time Akira met this wolf was in stupid circumstances, and Akira was sure that he had led his pack into their death, all because of some strangers he felt compelled to aide. But Ernest didn't kill them and Akira watched in awe.

Their group was shoved into wolf territory, watching as the pack fought close to death to protect one pregnant female. Akira was taken into the pack territory and all Akira could do was be in awe. Be in awe of the strength of a pack when they were in tune. He could be in awe of the resilience and the desperation, he could see a pack with ones to protect, with vulnerabilities. Akira saw his own little group in the pregnant Bitch whom carried their future and he had to wonder, a little dry mouthed, if they could have the same.

On their island where monsters did their best to kill, could they create a home?

Could their little group of students and adults, and a pack leader as goofy as they came, really create a new generation? Did they want to?

Akira learned a lot at that second meeting with the wolf. He learned a lot about himself and his feelings for Rion, but most of all, he learned about being a leader. He learned of what he would do for a mate, for one he wanted, but would never force. Akira saw his short comings in his temper and willingness to drop everything for the girl he was slowly realising he loved. Akira saw that he needed to lead and not just allow things to happen.

He had thirty people under his wing now, and they all looked to him. He couldn't just let things happen. He would lose them all if he did. He needed to adapt. He needed to learn, and grow, and take risks that would benefit all and just not one.

He needed to be like the Wolf who watched the world, and learned. He needed to be Ernest. He needed to grow. He watched the wolf as Akira fought to protect, and he could see that revered gaze of a leader, measuring him, and learning from him.

Akira felt that growl in his gut again, but this time it was one of want. He wanted the instinct, he wanted the strength and resilience and intelligence of survival that Ernest had obviously fought and survived to cultivate.

Akira wanted it all, but he wanted to grow and protect. He wanted his pack to thrive as Ernest's obviously could.

Akira knew, right then, what kind of Country he would try to create, and it wasn't a country at all. He would create a pack, in name and in practice. He would create a place where bonds were formed and where everyone fought for each other. He knew, right then, that the feeling of possessive, protectiveness, he felt was that of an Alpha for its pack. A wolf soul. He may not know it, or think it true, but Akira saw what Ernest had and wanted it. He wanted to be a pack leader that could, rightly, protect his own.

Ernest had shown Akira so much more in just the space of a day than the island could have shown him in months.

But that didn't matter.

Because now he was dying, and he couldn't even move. He felt the rock, and blood, but his limbs were dead and blood pooled under and around him. He could taste it in his teeth and feel it in his eyes.

He was dying because he had let his guard down around a stranger. He had assumed anyone he took in would be respectful, and safe. But this stranger had brought him down, and now his pack would suffer.

Akira felt like a fool for dying here, not even a dog's death, because of the whim of a peasant that thought herself a queen.

He almost welcomed the heavy, hot, damp breath on his neck. He would gladly give himself to Ernest now. Ernest was a leader who had to feed his young, and Akira was a leader who couldn't lead. In fact, Akira had made an honest mistake, and now it was time for him to turn back to dust. It was time for a leader to melt into another leader.

Akira wondered –as his eyes dropped and the breath moved back –if death was supposed to be so peaceful. The last thing he saw were the deep, golden eyes of a Dire Wolf who seemed to show a future that Akira would never have now.

People in their country talked about the wolves, about Ernest especially. When Akira wasn't there, when he was off keeping tabs on others, or sleeping, they talked around camp fires and to new faces would joined them as they built their ship. They told the story of Akira and Ernest.

The boy, the man, was a wolf in all that he did. He was a leader, and a loner, but most of all, he was all for his pack. He drew people in like a flame, a beacon of hope…but also of stability.

A charismatic leader may draw people in, but his smooth words and promises meant nothing when a threat appeared. If a leader threatened, it may keep people out of fear, but it couldn't keep them when dire events threatened revolt.

Akira, though, was a wolf. He was grace and speed, he was quiet stealth, and he was a howl in the night that sounded like a thousand bodies in chorus. He was instinct, and he was patience. He didn't pull punches or promise what he couldn't provide. He never held pack members that needed to wander, but he always remembered who was his own.

Yarai was a loner, but the dangerous man held a small pack of his own, yet still trusted and bowed –straight backed and not a bow at all, mind you– to Akira. Yarai trusted Akira alone. He gave Akria the nudge that he needed to take the mantle of wolf skin and be a leader and make a country.

Yarai was, to Akira, what pack members were to Ernest. He was motivation, he was a standard, but he was also another one to protect, one that didn't always need that protection.

People liked to whisper that Ernest followed Akira wherever they went. They told ghost tales and wove legends about the man with the Wolf for a guardian. They said they saw wolves on the crest of hills all around their travels and that if you listened closely, you could hear a wolf's howl follow all of Akira's more direct and solid orders. They liked to say that Ernest was Akira and that it was a trick of the eyes that ever had them as two separate entities.

When Akira heard these rumours, he was overwhelmed. He was honoured to be respected as such, and his chest bloomed with heat and pride. Akira's pack trusted him as Ernest's trusted Ernest. It made Akira wonder again if he saw that intense look of leaders the day he met the scarred animal. But Akira knew that look to be true, now. Akira knew that he was becoming as solid and strong as Ernest was that day, as wise and as understanding.

Still, Akira dismissed the rumours, saying that they were being silly. He did boast a little about being such a mysterious guy, and wondered if they carved his story into the stones of the island whether or not travellers in the future would think him a god. But he wasn't one.

Akira truly didn't think himself worthy of such praise, but Ernest obviously did.

The Wolf had saved Akira with an incredible show of mutuality in a creature who tore vicious bears to pieces. The intelligence that Ernest had shown when he saved Akira was terrifying. To imagine the intelligent power under his control made Akira nauseous with the wrongness of the concept. Ernest and his pack were a separate entity to Akira and his. They were wild and free and a human like Akira could never understand the sheer complexity of the mind of a pack.

That wasn't to say that Akira wouldn't give a whole lot to be able to understand them though, or why Ernest decided to lead Akira's pack to that cliff-face so many months ago. Ernest must have known of Akira's importance to the gang, and had made sure he lived.

Did Ernest see a mutual benefit in saving Akira, or did Ernest simply understand the sheer dependence a pack had on their leader?

Akira wouldn't admit to it, but on days when he guarded his pack just out of ear short –whether they were camping out as they scouted the area, or were just sitting at the gates of their country– he listened and thrived on the tales of Ernest and himself.

The stories were breath-taking and dangerous. They ranged from Ernest teaching Akira to hunt, to Ernest being a youkai who could change shape and taught Akira how to be a leader. There were tales of Ernest and Akira fighting for dominance, some of which ended with Akira being a pack member, and others of Ernest and the pack becoming messengers and fighters for Akira.

It was amusing, to say the least.

"They seem to enjoy the thought of us fighting, eh?" Akira muttered in a low rumble. His eyes still watched the group as they bantered and roared in laughter, but his attention was on the shadow growing to his right.

All evening his eyes had tracked the moving slinks in the night as they surrounded and tracked Akira's group. Usually he would have raised the alarm and had his pack move to safer grounds, but with Ernest's pack near, it was always safe to rest.

A growl rumbled close to Akira's ear as Ernest stepped close enough for him to see. It was daunting to have such a massive beast sit so close, but the mass leaned back and sat on his haunches with his head dipped. It may have looked submissive, but it was a kindness and a way of communication. Earnest and Akira were equals, the same in a way that Akira didn't understand. Ernest growled again, eyes never leaving the boy who had quickly become a man as he grew into his wolf-skin and leader-heart.

Akira hummed in some form of agreement. While he did not command Ernest like his group of imaginative people seemed to think and Akira certainly didn't answer to the beast of a wolf; they had this comradery that Ernest seemed to hold in high honour, and Akira fumbled through. It was enough that Akira always signalled when there was a kill too big or much for his group to handle, and Ernest always kept close and protective of Akira's pack.

Ernest lay down with a huff, his entire body still menacing as it surrounded Akira. There were times when Akira wondered if they were one in the same, if this wolf was in his imagination, or if he finally lost it. All Akira knew was that Ernest, for all his violent lessons when he and Akira were alone for a moment, was viciously protective of Akira. He growled at other pack members who drew close without permission, and any time danger appeared near Akira or Akira's-own, Ernest was there, in the periphery, waiting for a signal of distress of any kind.

The first time Ernest appeared with his pack, long after Akira and his group had left the 'school', was shocking.

Akira had gone off alone, angry, confused, and feeling the weight of a leader settle upon his shoulders. It was sometime between meeting Mami and Zaji's death and Akira was feeling the strain. While he hadn't so much as convinced everyone to give him some time as he had simply stormed out into the forest, Akira left and was gone within minutes and no one who followed could find him.

He knew where he was though. He had this keen sense of direction now, always knowing where home was. He marked his place too, obvious in a way his mind worked –and that his pack would recognize if they grew too worried– but not so clear so as to let the others find him without a little thought.

He sat on a rock near the river, eyes on the water and mind on the sun. He would need a few hours before heading back. He wouldn't leave his pack unattended at night, not if he could help it, not again.

He was so lost in thought, some of them self-loathing and others completely paranoid, that Akira didn't notice the creature sneak up behind him, nor did he have a chance to see what it was once it grabbed him around the neck and squeezed.

The next moment, all that Akira was aware of was the rough warmth pressed against his face and chest and a deep, rumbling growl. For a minute, he thought that he was about to become dinner, but as howls join the growling, and a primate screech joined the chorus, Akira wondered if some strange fight is occurring. Maybe some fight for food was happening above him.

Still, it was enough time for Akira to get his wits about him, and just as he was about to kick at the gut above him, he felt the mass shift into a crouch, pressing him into stone as growls rattled the air.

Confused, and panicked at first, Akira kicked out, building a scream in his throat to alert his pack of the danger, except the growl in the chest pressed to his face stopped and instead there was the snap of teeth close to his ear.

Craning his head around, Akira was met with a big, golden eye and half a scarred muzzle.

The effect was instantaneous. His whole body stopped struggling, and the wolf holding him to the ground stood and turned to the threat. The monkey creature was struggling against the rest of the pack, all of whom were growling and snapping and driving the creature away.

Once the creature was gone, Ernest stood tall and barked orders to his pack. They all moved as one, each coming forward and snuffling Akira's hair roughly before running off, barking and growling lowly. Soon enough, Akira was free of dog muzzle and wolf smell as the entire pack disappeared, other than Ernest.

The great Wolf King moved and lets Akira stand, eyes intense as the young man struggled up. Adrenaline burned through him, and the air pushed awkwardly passed his swelling throat. Akira knew that he was going to be bruised for weeks.

But right now, he was captured. Akira was completely vulnerable in the eyes of Ernest. The wolf watched him, intense, calm, and waiting. When Akira stilled, that revered gaze drifted and Ernest dropped his head as he stalked close.

For a split second, Akira thought that he was dead, except suddenly, a cold nose shoved roughly at his entire body, snuffling his clothes, hair, and face, brushing over all the bandages and bruises he had before resting on his throat. A deep growl rumbled through the world and Ernest's lips lifted in disgust. But soon enough, his large ears flicked back and he growled at the distance.

"Ernest?" Akira tried, breathless as this beast stood guard. That was what he did after all. He saved Akira and stood guard. He was standing guard right now. "What?"

Ernest turned to him, eyes locked for a moment before he ruffled Akira's hair and growls once more.

Then he was gone, through the woods just as the rush of feet and broken branches sounded behind Akira. It seemed like his pack found him, and all of them were huffing and panicked until they caught sight of their leader.

"Akira! What the hell do you think you were doing?" Miina moaned as she dropped beside him, almost snarling when she caught sight of the bruise forming around his throat. "What did you-?"

Howls pierced the mutters of relief, and silence descended.

"Were those wolves?" Zaji whispered as more people gathered to pick Akira off the ground. Whispers broke out and the rumours that had been more of a joke began to form right then.

However, Rion was quick to dismiss not only those whispers, but any hope that Akira had of forgetting his little runaway stunt. "Akira! You can't just do that. You have to be careful here, not all the wolves are as understanding as Ernest."

With that said, and everyone a little unnerved by the howl that broke the air, the group headed back to camp, eyes flickering at every shadow. Akira followed and didn't bother correcting his child-hood-friend-turned-more because that was Ernest, and he was not happy with the strange little monkey-creature that had attacked Akira.

For the rest of the evening, Akira wondered about the strange stance that Ernest had taken over him, and the sheer worry that radiated in the snuffling at his clothing once the attacker had been dealt with. Ernest had been watching him, but the question was for how long. It had been months now since the last time Akira had seen Ernest, and yet here he was.

It was horrifying, and made him wonder about the safety of his group. Was Ernest hunting them? Surely not, the creature protected Akira in a way that was very obviously possessive.

The questions were still as to why.

It wasn't the last time that Akira saw Ernest either. Soon enough, the young man grew to know almost instinctively when Ernest was around, sensing a fleeting sighting here and the ghost of a howl there. Akira grew to know when the pack was watching and, over time, Akira grew to realise how often the wolves were around.

It started slowly after that rescue. The wolves only appeared every second week, but slowly they grew to appear on the horizon, just enough for Akira to see –and only because he was looking– at least five times a week.

By the time Akira was saved by Ernest a second time, the wolves made themselves known to Akira in some way almost six times a week. It thrilled Akira, and it grew to be a comfort. The Wolves were sentinel to their pack. They were the moving entity outside of the boundaries.

Of course, Akira was grateful for this, and so the next time he was in close proximity to Ernest, he paid the wolf back in full.

Akira had been gathering food with some others when they were surrounded by eusmilus. As usual, the supposedly extinct creatures didn't let up, and soon enough, three of Akira's classmates had died to their teeth.

Akira sustained enough damage to end up limping away with an unconscious classmate slung over his shoulder. He remembered the burn in his eyes, because he wasn't even going to be able to bury his lost pack members. At least he had saved one.

Still, with eusmilus gaining on him and weakened by grief and the pain from his injury, Akira wasn't hopeful that he would make it, but he would make sure his pack member did.

It was then that he crossed paths with Ernest again.

The wolf whirled in like some kind of great machine. He howled and roared as he and his pack descended on the eusmilus and, soon enough, the beast was torn to shreds and Ernest was huffing with pride.

Of course, life was never easy for Akira, because as he turned to thank the great wolf, regardless of if the creature could understand him, Akira noticed the worst thing.

Behind him, hidden just out of sight was one of Ernest's pups. The little thing was already as big as a full grown lab, but it shuffled around with fearless curiosity, and it was a perfect victim for the eusmilus left over from the attack.

They struck hard and fast, but Akira was faster.

He trusted Ernest and the pack –who hadn't noticed the pup's dangerous situation– to protect Takahashi, and so Akira dropped the unconscious girl to the floor and took off at a sprint. He didn't bother to wonder if his trust was misplaced, or to wonder if there were more threats in the shadows. All Akira saw was a pup in danger, all he saw was a pack mate about to be slaughtered. But he could do something, and he would. So he ran.

A snarl rippled in his chest as he grabbed the pup by the scruff and shoved the snarling little thing behind him. Taken aback by the obvious show of dominance and protection, the eusmilus flinched, but snarled in return, salivating at the prospect of double the meal.

Akira took none of it. He snarled again, screeching at the eusmilus to back off.

"Get out of here. He's mine!" He reached for his weapon –which he had forgotten he had until a moment ago –and swung it wildly, creating a whooshing whistle as it flew through the air.

Whether the eusmilus thought this prey too much work or Akira genuinely displayed his dominance, wouldn't be known. But the creature slunk away, grumbling. When the threat was finally gone, Akira felt his knees wobble and fell on his backside.

Yelping and barks greeted him as the pack surrounded the young man and pup. Takahashi was dropped beside Akira by one of Ernest's pack, unharmed as Akira had expected.

"Thank you, again." Akira explained, rubbing his hair, a little embarrassed that he had to be saved again, but extremely grateful all the same.

Ernest shoved the pup over, growling in reprimand. The pup huffed and whimpered, hunkered to the floor between his father and Akira. Sure that the youngling understood what was happening, Ernest turned his eyes onto Akira, and froze him in place. Akira swore that Ernest knew far too much about the humans, especially when he nudged his pup and bowed his head as if thanking Akira for his bravery, and for his pup.

"You're welcome." Akira explained, bashful as he talked to this Wolf as if it understood, but it felt right all the same, especially when, curious and cold, a nose pressed into his palm as the pup thanked him in its own way.

Those two incidents had been the start of this strange dynamic. Ernest never strayed far, and Akira knew of safety when Ernest was around. The longer he went without seeing Ernest or one of his pack –all of whom he had named now, including the pups of the last litter, he would name the ones born soon since two of the bitches were carrying again– the more dangerous Akira knew the area was. He had come to learn that he was safe when they were close.

He liked to think that they were safe too, within Akira's boundaries.

He would never think of Ernest or his pack as pets, and would never try to tame them. He would never betray their trust like that.

It was mutually beneficial, as strange and scary and exhilarating as it was to have Ernest pressed against his side, his back, or his chest as the Wolf protected Akira from the strange world.

Akira often took 'midnight walks' and his group had come to understand that he needed the peace and time alone. They stopped questioning and trying to follow him after the first two weeks. Akira was grateful for their worry, but he was never alone on these walks. Not anymore any way.

Ernest always joined him once he was far enough from the others, walking side by side for hours on end. Sometimes Ernest was joined by other pack members, all of whom snuffled at Akira to remember his scent, and sometimes they played roughly with the young man. Akira has lost count of the number of times he had ended up on the floor, wrestling with three Dire Wolves in a way that would have given him a heart attack six months ago.

Now it was a comfort to walk amongst the Wolves. It gave him this sense of pride deep in his chest. To be able to trust such vicious creatures with an unprotected back, and be trusted in return when he carried a weapon with him, was wonderful.

The camp-fire was dimming now though, and everyone was starting to scatter. It was Akira's signal to go back to his tent before his disappearance was marked as worrisome.

As he sighed, a moan rattling in his lungs when he stood, Akira noted Ernest's eyes. They were deep and intense, never leaving Akira's face. It unnerved him sometimes, both how human and how animal this creature was. If Ernest so wanted, he could cut Akira down with little effort. Instead, the giant wolf stood and waited for Akira to move again.

"I have to go back," Akira admitted, feeling the strange kick that always assaulted him when he parted from these silent meetings with the great Wolf. "You're pack needs you too. Stay safe, bud."

Ernest chuffed in a very deep way before leaning his head forward and Akira automatically lifted his hand to meet the beast's head. Ernest's fur was course and tough. As Akira's fingers ran from the fur on his cheek to the softer fur on his muzzle, he had to wonder how this could be possible.

Because Ernest closed his eyes and leant into Akira's hand as his fingers smoothed over the giant dog's nose and forehead. It was amazing. It was humbling. It was a kind of connectedness that Akira would feel with nothing else in his entire life.

Like that, the spell was broken. Ernest opened his eyes and touched his cold nose to Akira's chin once before turning swiftly and disappearing back into the shadows. Akira stooped to pick up his weapon, sighing as he walked back towards his home.

He had to wonder what would happen when they were ready to leave their island.

What would happen to this tentative relationship with Ernest and his pack? Where would the wolves go? Would they stay?

These questions haunted Akira in a way he couldn't explain. He knew the wolves would remain, and he knew Ernest understood the meaning of the construction, but Akira was also sure that the day they returned –because they would return whether they liked it or not– Ernest would return to his side.

Until that time though, Akira would watch for the yellow gaze that leaders exchanged. He would watch out for the pack because by now, there was no distinction between Akira's and Ernest's, and he would keep it that way as long as he lived.

A very strange fic I agree, I'm not sure I like the ending and that's because I'm not sure it's ended. I may very well continue this as little ficlet/chapters to continue this strange dynamic between Ernest and Akira. I know it's the farthest thing from Canon as possible, but I like the idea of an intrigued Ernest and a bewildered Akira and their strange relationship. I hope you enjoyed it despite the strangeness.

Please review!

~~Bleach-ed-Na-tsu :3