Chapter 1

A/N: An idea I wanted to try out, despite my other ongoing fics. I'm probably going to burn for this. Miyusawa, the things I do for you..

Note: Eijun's backstory will be slowly revealed. Baseball will be added in this fic, but it'd only play a small part.

Warning: OOC/Cunning/Smart Eijun (honestly, I think Eijun was quite smart in canon, though he's very, very dense). OOC/Manipulative/Dark Miyuki. Because they're just too sinful to resist.

AU. Very, very AU, lmao.

Disclaimer: I do not own Ace of Diamond.


"Wakana," Eijun murmured as he leaned back against the satin-covered chair, "this party is ridiculous."

The girl beside him sighed. "Eijun."

He snorted his reply, to which Wakana smacked him lightly on the arm.

Not flinching at all, he lifted the wineglass from the table beside him, the intense aroma of blackberries, black licorice, minerals meeting his nose before he took a small sip. The beautiful sweetness of fruit washed over his tongue; powerful and super silky tannins, the aftertaste was caressing and long-lasting. Though he found the expenses splurged on this party extravagant, he had to admit that the wine choice was excellent. The Chateau Lafite-Rothschild was a famous wine name around the world, and the price for just one bottle was staggering; however, the taste was simply exquisite. He had to say that the 1996 was still unforgettable.

"Matsuki-san's here," Wakana warned him in a hushed whisper. He had already noticed her from a few feet away, given her flashy accessories - the Piaget Rose necklace grabbing attention and inciting jealous discussions among some ladies with its sparkling diamond drops and probably about - say, 17 or 18k of white gold. He didn't evendare to think about the price. Inwardly, he wished her future husband luck.

"I'm still going to leave early," he said in a low voice, getting up from his seat and meeting her eyes confidently. He flashed a practiced smile at the girl approaching him, her blond tresses piled on her head in an elegant hairdo as she returned it with a shy smile of her own.

Strange, he thought, mildly amused.

They were briefly acquainted earlier that evening, but didn't have the chance to talk much. He could tell from the way she spoke that she was a confident woman however - her bold, lingering gaze and the way she carried herself told him that much. Pretense? If so, what was she after? Or was it true bashfulness?

"If it isn't Matsuki-san," he said, bowing and stretching his hand out to her. Red colored her cheeks as she accepted his hand. "Shall we dance?"

They fell into an easy pattern on the dance floor, initially quiet, enjoying the soft lull of Grammofon as his left hand remained firmly clasped on her tiny waist.

"Charles James, I assume?"

She looked momentarily startled at his voice, her body giving a small jerk. He chuckled lightly as he twirled her once before he caught her by the waist again. "Sorry."

"No, don't be, it was my fault," she replied, cheeks reddening a little. He wondered briefly if the blush was forced. "And yes, it is. You know quite a bit about fashion, don't you?"

"Nah," he replied, allowing his smile to widen more, "it was my sister." He nodded his head to the corner where Wakana sat. "She was gushing to me how beautiful your dress was." Granted, she didn't; Wakana just simply noted the kind of dresses the girls were wearing to irritate him since he couldn't care less about fashion, but it didn't hurt to say a small lie to make them take more notice of her. Wakana's brilliance was sometimes overlooked and he thought she needed more recognition.

They moved closer to the edge of the dance floor, stepping to the right to avoid another twirl by the neighboring couple. She nodded in acknowledgement, her eyes appraising as they lingered a moment longer on Wakana before she turned her attention back to him, a small smile on her lips. "She has a good eye. He's a wonderful designer."

Another silence settled between them.

"So I heard that it's starting up soon," Matsuki started as she peered at him through her thick eyelashes – she had applied a little too much mascara, he was sure. "Who do you think will succeed the position?"

Shouldn't you be asking who'd best succeed the position?

Eijun resisted the urge to arch a brow at her; she did seem like she was trying to be subtle, though she failed quite miserably in her attempt. He deliberated between acting dumb and answering her question, then decided to be more relaxed tonight – he was leaving after this dance, anyway.

"Good question," he murmured. He remained quiet as he stepped to the left along with Matsuki swiftly; her father was running for the election and as far as he saw, he didn't think there was any chance of him acquiring the position. The elite bureaucrats didn't have a good impression of him with his indulgent methods and he was a socialist, though, of course, it'd do little dent on their authority behind the scenes.

As a well-known, self-proclaimed socialist however, his daughter manifested as a complete contradiction of his ideals. Eijun let a small smile curve his lips as he estimated at least seventy thousand yen spent on her assemble tonight.

"The people do seem to wish for a new prime minister, with economic problems not showing signs of receding. But the Diet does seem rather intent on keeping the current."

He hummed thoughtfully as the song reached an end, the beats slowing, reaching a decrescendo. She really did ask the question far too late - though it wasn't as if it'd change his method of answering. "Either way," he bowed before raising her hand up to his lips, pressing a quick kiss against her knuckles, "I'm sure it'll be an interesting election."

From the smile on her face, he could tell she didn't realize that he didn't exactly answer her question. Foolish girl. He turned and made his way back to where Wakana sat, seating himself beside her again. She arched a brow at him. "I think she has taken a liking to you."

He raised the glass to his lips to finish the luxurious wine, not bothering to turn back to see what Wakana had saw to arrive at such a conclusion. "I'd say she doesn't think much."

"You're mean," Wakana said, though her lips quirked up to a small smile.

Eijun's lips curled upwards. "Like you weren't thinking the same thing."

He scanned his eyes over the chattering crowd; parties like this weren't really his thing. Bluntly put, it was just an underlying game of power, status and prestige that they were playing here – and some weren't even good players. Sure, he liked socializing at times, but he disliked formal events – there were little people here that caught his interest.

His mouth turned dry, gaze landing on a particular figure, though it wasn't a familiar face. He didn't notice his presence when he first entered the ballroom, however.

A bespectacled man who didn't look over twenty oozed of power and charisma; he was clad in tailored white suit, tapered pants complimenting his slightly muscular legs. Quite attractive with his sharp, aristocratic features, he found himself momentarily enraptured when the man swept his eyes around the room briefly – his conversational partners were probably not being very engaging. Just when Eijun thought he was about to overlook him, the man's eyes snapped back to meet his, weighing on him heavily.

For a moment, he was about to turn back to see if he was looking at someone else, but stopped himself just in time to realize that he was still sitting at the back of the hall and there was no way anyone could stand behind him. He could tell he was assessing him – but of what? Then a small smirk curled his lips and he tilted his wineglass to Eijun's direction: on the surface, it appeared to be a simple greeting, but he realized that it could also well be taunting, given the way his glasses flashed under the light. Eijun lifted his chin, not backing down from what he saw as a challenge, giving a stiff nod in return before he stood from his seat. Then he broke away from the eye contact, reaching out for Wakana's hand.

She shook her head in disapproval. "You're always leaving far too early." She took his hand anyway. He knew that she secretly despised these parties – which was why he even brought her here in the first place. She was his childhood friend and he reallywas glad it was her. There couldn't be anyone else he would be relieved at having known him for so long and so well.

The moment they were out of the ballroom, doors shutting the light beats of Faust Waltz in, she pulled him closer. "Who were you looking at?"

"I wasn't," he lied smoothly.

She nudged him. "You can't fool me."

He shrugged. "It was nothing."

"Was it a lady? Or a man?"

"People hearing that would think I'm bisexual, you know," he said, amusement coloring his tone as they approached the revolving doors of the five-star hotel. Wakana was adamant on finding out his sexual orientation, given his lack of love life after nineteen years, despite the many confessions he received. He gestured for her to go ahead. She giggled as she stepped through it to the open air. The door swung shut behind them.

"You don't even know it yourself," she said, smacking him on the arm lightly. He rolled his eyes, deciding not to answer her because she was partly right; he did have a bit of fun here and there, but never met anyone he was remotely interested in for the long-term. It was a well-established acknowledgement he had with himself, and it was something he was contented with.

"Ritsu-kun's about to be here," Eijun said, checking the silver Rolex watch clasped around his wrist. He didn't exactly appreciate expensive brands, but it was a gift from Wakana who had probably spent two months of her salary to buy him this, saying that his parents would expect him to 'blend in with the crowd' and attending more social events. He resisted a snort at that thought.

"Ah, Ritsu-kun!" Wakana gave an excited wave as a Porshe Sportec parked itself neatly by the pavement. The window rolled down to reveal a middle-aged man donning a pair of sunglasses. He pulled the shades down with a finger.

"Get in, kids," he said.

Eijun chuckled. "Ritsu-kun, this doesn't make you look any cooler. Sunglasses in a car at night make no sense."

Ritsu didn't look bothered by his comment at all, pushing his sunglasses back up. "Sawamura-sama," he said, obviously addressing him this way because he knew it'd get on his nerves, and Eijun's eyes narrowed on his. "I think I look cool, and that's enough."

"- yes, send him here."

The deep, baritone voice distracted him, and he angled his face slightly to see who it was. A man with messy brown hair was facing away from their direction, shoes making small knocks against the ground as he walked past them, one hand in his pocket as the other pressed a phone against his ear. His face turned slightly as he talked, and Eijun realized with a start that it was the same bespectacled man back in the ballroom.

Wakana's giggles broke him out from his observation and he averted his eyes to see her already seated in the car. It was unusual for him to be caught off-guard, much less twice in a day. He chanced a subtle look to the man's direction again, but he was already gone. "Come on, Eijun."

Ritsu poked his head out of the window, "Yeah, kid, stop stoning and get in."

Eijun rolled his eyes. "Why did I even hire you?"

"Because I'm cool."

\\\\\+\\\\\

"Release them."

Eijun pushed himself up from the grey, dusty concrete floor, blinking to clear his blurry vision. A bespectacled boy around his age stood in the entrance of the open door, hands in his pockets as he nodded towards the barred cells they were enclosed in. He was dressed immaculately, his crisply-pressed dark blue suit and tailored pants complimenting his frame; even his young, inexperienced self could tell the material used was expensive. The man beside him was dressed similarly, though his suit was in black, head lowered to the young boy.

"Please, it's – "

He was cut off and Eijun pushed himself closer to the bars to get a better look, ignoring the pain shooting up from his swollen wrists due to the ropes tightly binding them for days. The boy was standing there, eyes trained on the older man who seemed frozen, rigid in his stance; the boy's lips were moving but Eijun couldn't hear what he was saying. A kid beside him shifted and made a small groan as he awoke, but Eijun clasped his hand over his mouth. The kid's eyes widened.

"Shh," he shushed him, "be quiet," he whispered, eyes intent on the two figures who seemed to be too engaged in their conversation to notice that they were awake.

"You call me sama for a reason," the boy said, voice rising, jerking his head to their direction again. Eijun swallowed – please, please let this be okay.

"Master will – "

"Now." This word was bit out harshly, and Eijun could tell the boy had won, given his display of authority earlier on. He quickly slumped against the cell to feign sleep – he didn't know whether the boy wanted to be seen, and if he had seen him he may be subjected to threats that he didn't want to put himself through.

His ears remained alert as he heard a pair of footsteps approaching their cell then a click of the lock. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he waited, forcing himself to remain relaxed against the metal bars.

"Oi," someone whispered, nudging him. He remained still. "Oi."

He pushed himself up, arranging his features to one of confusion – at least he hoped so, rubbing his eyes with his bound hands.

"W – what?"

The man had pulled a hat over to cover his eyes, but there was still a distinguishable scar running to his right ear. His lips were pursed, and Eijun could tell he still disapproved of the boy letting them go. "Run. Now."

He glanced back at kids behind him. The man nodded. "I'll wake them, too. Go now."

"Thank you."

He scrambled out of the cage, dusting his pants and skidding to a stop when he almost bumped into the back of the boy's suit in his haste. Shocked, he froze for a moment - he didn't know the young boy would risk having his identity discovered. Then the boy pointed to his left. "Go."

"Thank you," he murmured. He turned to the direction he gestured to –

"I know you were awake."

And ran.

\\\\\+\\\\\

Eijun shot up from the bed, sweat matting his hair to his forehead as his hands fisted the sheets pooling around his waist, breaths coming out like short gasps. He hadn't had this dream – remembered this memory – for years. Groaning, he rubbed the aching temples with his thumb, glad that he had left the party early.

"Sawamura-sama!"

Eijun cursed as the headache came back again, and he pounded on his forehead, wincing as flashes of white burst underneath his lids with every hit. He knew he should stop hitting his head like an idiot since it hardly helped, but the pain provided him temporary relief.

Someone knocked on the door again. He felt his brow twitch in irritation, then pushed himself out of the bed, wearing the slippers by the side. Shuffling to the door, he twisted the doorknob open, face already schooled into a stoic mask.

"Yes?"

A woman dressed in a black and white frilly dress bowed respectfully to him. "Good morning, Sawamura-sama. It's almost time for school. And Youichi-sama phoned to say he's arriving in the late afternoon."

Kuramochi? Now, that was a surprise. He nodded to dismiss her. "I'll be ready soon."

She bowed again and scurried away. His gaze lingered on her back before he scoffed and shut the door behind him.

One really never knows when that meek behavior turns to stab you in the back.


A/N: A slow start, but it'll start picking up soon, I hope. Baseball will play a part in their relationship as well. I'm structuring the politics in this fic with reference to the Japanese political system (since it's set in Japan, after all), but I will probably change quite a few things here and there.

Sorry for any mistakes. I do research on them but I may miss out/obtain the wrong information so do point them out if you spot any.

Do leave me a review to tell me what you think!

-mysticflakes