It was gray day. Not bright, not cheerful, not raining neither fair nor thunderous just gray. Fushimi was busy monitoring the various activities of their territory and managing the trespassers. He was out mostly bored with the job and his mood like the sky outside it bore no color. He took up the blue file and made his way through the large glass doors of the central monitoring room into the long empty corridor. Everyone in the building was peacefully doing their work he could see that through the large glass windows which overlook each of the rooms where the workers all clad in blue were working. Some were cheerful, some joking, some complaining, while other engrossed in their respective works. He was searching for the 2nd order lieutenant Seri Awashima who was nowhere to be seen.

He entered the most deserted part of the corridor by passing through an eye and identity security check and stepped into the most beautiful part of the Scepter 4 building. The wall of the corridors were made of pale blue glass and decorated with bamboo plants and lianas with wild blue flowers growing up encircling the lone pillars for support. After a few more checks he stopped near the large pale blue glass door made in shoji style. For the last time he identified his proud existence as Fushimi Saruhiko and entered the room. It was as large as always with the same cozy atmosphere which can make you feel relaxed and laid back. He strode confidently with some fluid steps only to see the lieutenant enjoying his cup sorry bowl of tea with the king himself. He stopped at the door and eyed the pair. Awashima was as usual disgusted by the taste of weak green Japanese tea but was unable to raise her voice against it. On the other side at a maintained and quite considerable distance sat their leader, the blue king with a poker face but Fushimi could see the glint of humor in those violet eyes and the small unnoticeable smirk the hung in his pale lips. He seemed to enjoy the situation of his lieutenant fidgeting under his grip of power. That man is a sadist! This comical situation brought a small smile in his lips but he quickly wiped it off. He had come here for work not to enjoy situations.

He coughed a little and both the gazes of the occupants of the room went to rest on the third occupant who was standing there leaning on the door sill watching them. Both the occupant straightened in their positions ready for the newly arrived news. Fushimi rose and walked to them.

"Sorry didn't want to disturb your private moments. Ryuji told me to deliver the file….can't find you in the control room…thought you might be here….. I was not wrong", he gave his small smirk seeing her flushed face then quickly went back to his bored poker face. He extended his hand and gave the file to Awashima but in the meantime their fingers touched and he pulled back his hand immediately and the file fell from his hand. Shit! He had done it again. But he can't help it he despises skin contact. It's not his fault is it? It was all her fault…..

"Uh….sorry..." Awashima knowing and understanding his problems, she said nothing about it. "Well…..I actually came here discuss about some important matters with captain…by the way why don't you join us too Fushimi-kun?" was the reply. Ah! Not that again. How he hated it!

"Yes, it would be quite a pleasure to have you amidst us joining our discussions" Munakata's velvety voice piped in.

"No," he forgot his formalities, "err…no…not this time…but….thank you, I think I will pass…." He has to regain his composure, "Beside I am not good with Japanese style teas as Awashima san …right…." He smirked and left the room as silently as he came.

"This guy ….." Seri gritted her teeth and vowed to take revenge later but his thoughts were interrupted by the unstrained laughter of the clan leader sitting in front of her. She glared at him.

"Uhh..! I apologize" he controlled his laughter, "he has a good sense of humor"

"Captain … …" Awashima muttered the word "incorrigible" under he breath

"Ha-ha, hah ha….."

While he was having they were having a good time they did not noticed the figure outside the room mumbling curses.

He hated it. He hated the way they treat him like a child he hated the way every time he makes a show when someone touches him unintentionally without knowing his weakness. He hated being touched …..Showing and revealing his weakness in front of other people. But it is not his fault….is...it?

Whenever he opens the door of the he sees them sitting like that at the table sipping tea like the proud parents of a happy family and he himself happens to be the youngest spoiled brat among his disciplined elder brothers and sisters and each time he enters the room Awashima calls him like mother persuading a young child to come and sit with his parents. How he disliked it. How he hated people around him trying to understand him. He loathed this despicable concept of families, love and above all skin contact. He never liked the idea of being touched by someone, somehow it arises a feeling of disgust inside him. Maybe he knows why it happens, it's all her fault…..

The sudden noise of chattering of people brought him down on the floor of reality. He realized that he had already entered his cube. He sighed as he settled down on his chair and unlocked the computer to get the left out paper works done.

It was dark ….so dark…he was again the five year old boy…where is he? Suddenly he is running through a dimly lit corridor which stretched endlessly in front of him. He was running with all his might…panting …trying to get away from something, but his legs…his legs felt like lead …slowing him with every step. She was coming… he can hear her faint voice…he has to run away from her…further away where she cannot get hold of him…. "Fushimi-kun! Fushimi-kun. Where are you? Come to me" her voice is getting clearer….his head is aching…he can't stop….faster…faster ….he has to get away. Anybody… somebody… please…please…help. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he began to sweat profusely from running in the cold December night. Abruptly the corridor came to an end there was nothing ahead the whole room had plunged down vertically in the bottomless pit of cold pitch black darkness….. What? He is trapped... He can't get out…no...No…this can't be. His thoughts were broken by the tapping of a pair of high heels as they approach closer and closer….large shadows of the pillars and curtains loomed over him like monsters…he shut his eyes tightly as he sits down on the cold freezing rough floor kneeling on his weak knees clasping his hands on his ears in a futile attempt to resist the vibrating sound of her voice dripping with thick poison. "Saruhiko….. Why are you running away from me?...am I not good to you? I just want to love you …to touch you…to ravish your sanity….to taste and extract the last drop of purity from you…is it too much for a wish?" her words let shivers run down his spine as he felt the lingering touch of those rough sweaty palms all over his body….he is scared too scared to complain to the authority…Tears ran down his flushed cheeks as he tried to get up and run but….he can't …he can't move his body…..what is happening to him? She is there ….standing ….almost near him….he could feel her ghastly shadow looming over him. The same old grey skirt…the thick woolen pink cardigan ….the distorted face with deep coating of make up...and those eyes…those black beady eyes… filled with madness… and hazed by lust. He had to get away… no matter what…he crawls a step back. There were black hands raising from the ceilings…the floors...grabbing him in a mesh work of darkness…he screamed… help. The floor beneath him suddenly slipped…he was falling into the endless pit of darkness…voices whispering round him and her laughter echoed all round him threatening to engulf him…no...N...Nooooooooooooo…

THUD! Fushimi fell hard on the floor for the third time this week. The sudden sharp pain at the back of his head made him flutter open his eyes as he tried to sit up panting and grasping for more air to fill his tired lungs. He felt suffocating like something has clasped his throat like an iron fist; he ran his fingers across his temples and brushed back a few bangs of his dark hair wet with perspiration for his profuse sweating.

"Well….didn't have that one for a pretty long time….." he tried to calm down by telling his mind reminding it repeatedly that he is no longer that helpless child. He is no longer afraid….but somewhere deep down he knew whatever he may say ….those fears …those memories are residing there still in the darkest corners of his heart and mind following him like a shadow…..

He didn't spend another in thinking. He struggled to untangle the sheets that has sticked to his sweaty body and ruffled through the linen to find his spects. When he found it he stood up grabbed a bathrobe and sped off towards the bathroom to get a good shower.