Trust was a fickle concept, one most carelessly abused and disregarded. Humans played games with each other, more often than not in the depths of darkness, rooted in fear. They ripped and clawed like animals, savage and wild in their motions, so unforgiving by nature; so engrossed in their selfish desires. And when people acquired too much status, they tended to attribute themselves with a most disgusting air of arrogance. They ruled as Kings, self-proclaimed Emperors of society, and they manipulated and marred their subjects for fun.
To be a toy of the unjust meant to be damned.
Auburn tresses mingled with thick, midnight air in the most unwilling fashion. It was brittle and frigid, barely tolerable to pale flesh and soft lips. It mocked her as she danced, very graceless - very ugly - in its presence and didn't bother to smother her with false promises of comfort and security. Such devices should have been left to a capable golden stallion, one with menacing bland eyes and an unfriendly grip. He could have shielded her, offered her warmth and waiting with a coy smile and deception. He wouldn't bother with such formalities tonight, though.
Tonight the Prince had delivered a message, the roar of the crowd as they absorbed his God-like nature still at a forefront in his mind, and he relished in his own success and glory. She had been in that crowd, a fawned onlooker, and he readied himself to lock eyes with hers. She was regular, she was adoring, and she was acceptably beautiful. Though she had the appearance of a child wearing her mother's make-up, vivacious curves and womanly attributes defined her as, more-or-less, legal. And as he devoured the stage with his moonlight and shadows, he prompted her to wait for him.
So the Fair Maiden stood just outside the building doors, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the overly-famed idol. He stood no more than ten feet away from her, concealed by fortress walls and stained glass, tongue shoved graciously down a long-legged brunette's mouth. She was all too wrapped up in him to care that his formerly idle hands were beginning to wander. A quick heated session would calm her lustful tendencies as he remembered to forget her name, had she even said it at all. And the Lady in Waiting did nothing but smile at the nearby brick wall.
However, things became complicated upon his arrival. She hardly noticed his disheveled clothes - his un-tucked dress shirt, unbuttoned vest, crumpled pants - and his messy hair. He was gorgeous as far as she was concerned; the tattered attire suited him perfectly. He was, after all, leader of the Animal Kingdom.
He gently swooped in, snatching up her small hand in his, and he flashed her a charming smile. It was so unbelievably fake that she fell for it right away. He led her away, out of sight and out of mind of the general public, as they detoured around to the back of the building. It was poorly lit, much to his liking, and horrendously dreary. The further they walked, the tighter she clung to him. He was a Knight, darkened or otherwise, and she was a Princess. She had every warning, but took none, of her transformation to a Damsel in Distress.
They were out of range, virtually out of sight, and she poured all of her trust into him. Kuuga quickly dropped his facade, ripping his hand from hers, as he pinned her to the damp wall. Her cosmic orbs exploded with awe and uncertainty, though still unconvinced that he could possibly be so gruesome and vile. She had walked into a metaphorical lion's dens, the leader of the pride so eagerly ready to dine on her, and she hadn't had a clue.
Sakura balled her fist and took a blind swing, earning herself a glint of amusement as fire burst in his eyes. He enjoyed a challenge, lived for disagreement, and relished and getting what he wanted. He was a pompous Joker in the deck, not quite the King he believed himself to be, but it hardly mattered; the truth, that is. No matter how grim reality was, no matter how bleak it really was, he could always be bathed in gold in the confines of his clouded vision. So he chuckled a bit for her, getting a muffled gasp from his prey. He had one hand placed roughly over her mouth, the other still holding her to the wall, and he just couldn't wait.
He slammed himself over her, gnawing hungrily at her never-before-touched skin. It was pale, it was smooth, but most importantly, it was ripe. She was perfect goods, never before touched by the filthy hands of other men. And he loved them so tight and squirmy. So he nicked and he licked, an obvious purple-black color washing over her jaw-line. Her words were useless, muffled and de-amplified by his palm. He forced his knee between her legs, keeping them open for his later advances.
But while the Wild Cat played with his prey, a shadowy figure stopped to observe. He was completely masked, no possible way to be identified. He had no interest in the hasty fornication of others, but he was piqued by the slender girl being ravaged. She looked familiar and that made him uncomfortable. He took silent footsteps forward, allowing his eyes to focus, but keeping a safe distance from the action.
He scanned the scenario before him, discomfort and embarrassment washing highly over him. All he could see was the backside of the man in control, noting his striking blonde hair and nothing else. His physique was normal, average, and uninteresting, but he was at a clear power advantage to the tiny girl. Her legs were spread, his rising knee harshly rubbing her lower extremities. Her body shook, almost violently, and her arms were now bound over her head. The hand on her mouth had been replaced with his demanding lips, forcing a kiss of vomit-inducing lust.
But what caught his attention the most were her eyes. Wide, petrified, broken coffee-colored eyes. Not only were they desperate and scared, but he recognized them. Unbound pigtails that allowed a cascade of mahogany to frame her perfectly soft face, sharpening her mortification. She was a classmate of his, and someone whom he was very grateful to, Sakura Hanazono. And the pain and worthlessness in her eyes told him that this was not a willing activity.
Daring to face the unknown, the mystery man reached into his jacket pocket, quickly pulling out a shiny trinket. He swiftly and effortlessly rushed into the danger zone, hazardously ripping the Cat from the Mouse, and tossing him to the side. He stood in front of Sakura, one arm outstretched to shield her, the other holding his device. Kuuga glared daggers at him, furious to have been so easily swept away from his toy when things were starting to get fun. His eyes were locked onto the ominous reflection of spectacles, daring them to ditch the glare and show themselves. But the man took this opportunity to swing his coin, tied securely to some fishing line, and use his only parlor trick to his advantage.
And just like that, Kuuga's eyes were stolen. They watched the swinging object with disdaining interest, only swayed by the sudden clap of his hands. It was then that he fell unconscious.
Taking a shaky breath of relief, he turned and hastily grabbed Sakura's hand, briefly catching her torn blouse, and made a run for it. She was practically being dragged by the man, finding no words to shout at him, and legs being wobbly at best. He only made it a few blocks, finding out very quickly that he was not in shape, before ducking down an empty alleyway. He stopped, released her hand so he could throw his hands on his knees for support, and started panting. He listened carefully as she also gasped for air and used the building to keep herself upright. Her eyes were slammed shut, not wanting to see the ugly world around her. Who knows what it could do to her next.
He took a moment to recompose before turning to face her. She was so helpless and afraid and it sickened him. She was a nice girl, so beautiful and kind, and yet that kind of hideous thing happened to her. He cautiously stepped towards her, hands reaching out to help her with her blouse. He had only meant to button it back up for her, seeing as how she wasn't going to do so any time soon. Her eyes shot open like a gunshot and he leaped backwards, hands in the air to disarm her. She tried to get a good look at him, but his hood obstructed her view of his face. The continuous glare from his glasses offered her no answers and she resigned to fearing him as well. His hypnotism trick from before wasn't enough to convince her of his identity.
He slowly moved to disrobe himself, his hood dropping and his zipper being undone. He quickly shimmied out of his jacket, eyes closed for he was still embarrassed. He should have known that touching her blouse like that would cause concern the way it did. How foolish of him. He offered her his jacket, his midnight black hair and slightly tanned skin finally surrendering his identity to her.
"Kanou." she whispered his name, sending a slight shiver down his spine. This woman, this Goddess, graced his ears with her angelic voice. She didn't sound afraid, betraying the way she looked, but... it was still wonderful. She reached her slender fingers out, grabbing his jacket with a feather-light touch, and she slid it on. It was warm and soft, two things she hadn't felt in what seemed like ages, and it smelled faintly of him. But she didn't bother to figure out what he smelled like, she let barricaded tears stream smoothly down her face as she leapt into his arms. He was familiar, he was kind, and he had just saved her life. Kanou. Shy, quiet, terrified-of-girls Kanou.
His breath hitched at her touch and his mind was getting fuzzy. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, subconsciously careful of their placement and how tight he held her. He was silently afraid that if he held her too tightly, she would break.
He wanted to say something - anything, really - to comfort the pretty girl in arms, but words would not come. It was as if he couldn't speak, a Mute taunted by Beauty and Begging. He wanted to assure her, tell her that he was here, she was safe now, and everything would be alright. He mused over the fact that it was him to have found her, rather than the assumptious Misaki Ayuzawa, or Knight-in-Shining-Armor Takumi Usui. No, instead it was him. Shy, quiet, terrified-of-girls Soutarou Kanou.
He settled into their position, realizing that her sobs would not stop any time soon. For if he could not speak to her, the least he could do was hold her to her heart's content. If that was comfort enough, then so be it. He would stay as long as she wanted; ignore the chill that was grazing his newly exposed skin, if it meant caring for her. She was so precious, so understanding, and so lovely that he couldn't bear the thought of abandoning her. She approached him with a smile, took his hand in hers, and she was happy to be near him. It was the most anyone had ever done for him and he adored her for it. And even though he spent all his time bottling up his feelings for her, he was, admittingly so, happy to indulge himself in one of his own selfish desires. To hold a Treasure of the World like this, he could melt into her.
And she would now be forced to recant her feelings for the UxMishi lead singer and turn her attention to a quieter corner of her life. One that, perhaps, involved an introverted little hypnotist who looked absolutely adorable in bunny ears.
"A/N: I have a few notes to make here before this story is officially over.
1. I've only seen the anime; I have yet to read the manga. That being said, Kuuga is quite the douche bag.
2. While dark and a bit extremist, I feel like even if a situation like this is unlikely, Kuuga has that much of rock star attitude to be this arrogant and disgusting. I based his actions on his attitude rather than what he might actually do.
3. I'm fully aware that this is a non-canon pairing, but... I have so many feels for them. So I'll write whatever I damn well please.
That pretty much concludes everything. I hope you enjoyed this dark little fic. Maybe I'll write something less... heavy for them in the future."
