Author's Note: I'm a bad person. How long has it taken for this update to come? Gee, I suck. But hopefully this chapter will not. And to those of you that have reviewed / favourited / alerted, thank you very much!

All characters belong to GoRa/GoHands unless I say otherwise.

Chapter Three – Torture Me.

Already the morning had started with a blast.

Mikoto sat sprawled out on the sofa with his breakfast plate on his lap and a very content Anna curled up next to him. The kitten, who was now sleeping in the crook of Anna's arms, hadn't caused a problem yet, though the same could not be said for the other two. The little ginger one had already clawed its way through a part of the rug, fraying the material, which Izumo had freaked about, and the white one was apparently deaf and had already peed on the floor from being frightened by clumsy footing.

"Izumo-san, your luck with animals is terrible," stated a grinning Eric, chewing happily on a bacon omlete. He bumped fists with Fujishima, who had nearly snorted milk from his nose.

"My poor bar! They'll ruin it!" Izumo cried, and Mikoto could sense the blonde-haired man would be bald soon.

Anna sniffed daintily, obviously showing her distaste for Izumo's behaviour. Anna's love for animals, big and small, ran deep and to treat them with such disrespect sickened her. Of course Izumo did not hate animals, he just didn't like them in his bar – which isn't really where they belong, and all of Homra's members knew this. They just 'forgot' this rule every so often.

Did Mikoto blame them? He couldn't be bothered, but since he'd allowed Anna to keep the scrawny little feline, Izumo would just have to get over himself. Eventually.

"Yo Anna, how about I take you to town? We can get Dante some stuff, like those annoying little toys with bells and a bed and food. Sound good?" suggested Fujishima, and Anna's face lit up. She nodded without a spoken word, and climbed up from her seat, carefully placing Dante down on the floor with his brothers. He looked startled as he was roused from sleep, but jumped the short distance from her arms anyway, tumbling over the ginger one. The plump little orange blur mewed in protest, but Anna quickly gathered herself up, and went to get her coat.

Izumo flashed Mikoto a quick look. Mikoto shrugged.

"Fujishima," said Mikoto, his first real acknowledgement of anyone that morning. Kosuke looked up and towards the King immediately, and tilted his head. "Keep an eye on her at all times." Mikoto's drawling voice was laced with a serious note, and even though Fujishima was ignorant as to why the King had made such a request – as if he'd ever lose the princess – he nodded, and saluted Mikoto.

Anna returned to Fujishima's aside, dressed in a long black coat with ruffles on the sleeves. The white collar of her dress poked out from beneath the jacket, which Izumo fixed before patting Anna on the head, and nodded. "Cools. See ya' later!" said Fujishima, and he led the way to the door, trailed by Eric and Anna, and then they were gone.

Hours passed, and if Mikoto had noticed the members had not come back yet, he didn't show signs of it. Izumo had left about an hour ago, too, which left him all alone. He busied himself with watching pointless TV shows, his brain slowly working to process the idiots acting on screen.

As the bar's doors opened and a gust of cold, winter wind passed through into the warmth of the lounge, Mikoto barely looked towards the entrance. A snow-coated, chattering Kamamoto and Yata bustled into the bar, groaning and moaning about the cold weather which wasn't outrageous, really. It was cold.

"Yo! Mikoto-san!" called Yata's prudish teenage voice, and he stripped off his coat and dropped his board by the door before shaking off the snow and coming to join Mikoto in the foyer. He dropped onto one of the couches, groaning with joy at the comfort of the sofa's surface. Kamamoto joined them moments later, his teeth chattering.

"Where is everyone?"

"Out," replied Mikoto, watching a black-haired teen smash a vase angrily on the screen, all because her mother wouldn't allow her to go out that evening. Typical.

"Where?" pipped Yata.

"Anna, Fujishima and Surt are shopping. Kusanagi's gone to a meeting."

Kamamoto smiled at the King, before dropping to sit by Yata. When he was watching TV, he was far less threatening, and a lot more informative. Mainly because his brain was so melted from the stupidity on screen, he tended to give them more info than he normally would. Which was nice for a change.

The show ended minutes later, and Mikoto sighed, running a hand through his glimmering hair. His eyes glanced to the end of the couch, where the three kittens were curled in against each other, sleeping soundly. The fat ginger one was snoring, but it was hardly audible.

"Whoa, kittens!" exclaimed Yata, following Mikoto's gaze. The teen jumped up from his seat and practically flung himself to the end of the opposite couch, startling the kittens awake. Immediately, the began to mewl quietly, from confusion mostly, as Yata's fingers prodded and ruffled them. "Fujishima's?" asked Kamamoto.

"The black and white ball is Anna's."

Two pairs of questioning, surprised eyes turned on the King at that moment, and he rose a slender brow. Why were they looking at him like that? The silent question hung in the air, and Yata with a slack jaw was the one to answer. "But... Mikoto-san, y-you hate cats," Yata stuttered out with a tremendous effort, and Kamamoto nodded in agreement. Mikoto simply shrugged. "It's part of her birthday gift." That shut them up, and Mikoto's head turned again to watch yet another episode of teenage drama.

Another good half-an-hour passed before Mikoto began to worry. They'd left hours ago. Hours. It did not take nearly ten hours to buy some cat toys, and he highly doubted Anna would want to stay shopping for an entire day. And it was getting cold, surely she'd want to come home by now, wouldn't she? But even though he was becoming increasingly frustrated with every tick of the clock's hand to signal another minute Anna spent away from Homra, he did not make any notion to locate the missing trio.

Yata noticed the King's silent aggitation, and took his cell out of his pocket, unasked and not even notified.

"Yo, Fujishi – whoa!" the phone dropped from Yata's ear as the teen jerked backwards as though in pain, and Mikoto heard anguished cries and wails burst from the phone's distorting speaker. Alerted by the sudden movement, Kamamota stirred from his light slumber almost instantaneously just as Yata dived back to grab up the phone.

"Where are you?" Yata shouted, just as Mikoto stood up. Already the King's red aura was flaring with anger, and impatience. He could hear the strangled voice of Kosuke on the other line of the phone, and it sounded like a fight was breaking out.

"Briar...? Oh, yeah!"

More crackling on the line.

"Get your ass into action man, hold 'em off, we're coming."

Mikoto's burning amber gaze bore fiery holes into Yata's thin form, and the teen looked up, to Kamamoto first, then to Mikoto. "They're on Briar road. Held captive by a few thugs."

"Anna," demanded the King, and his snarl was animalistic.

"She's there."

Mikoto did not saunter, he marched. Each step pounded against the sidewalk, and his fury crackled around him like a red, angry sheath. Its heat was so severe that when a delicate snowflake brushed against its searing surface, it sizzled and melted. Mikoto could barely hear the chatter Yata and Kamamoto were babbling at him over the roar of pounding blood in his ears.

Those moronic children. How dare they put Anna in danger. I'll kill them.

Of course he did not mean his fellow clanmates – he would never once doubt their intelligence, or their strength, or courage. They were good men, and strong ones at that. But even the best of people got ambushed, and there was no way to stop it. But those thugs, he did not care who they were, nor did he care for their connections – he would incinerate them. They would die by his hands, and if they had so much as touched his precious Princess, he would watch them suffer with joy in his eyes.

"Mikoto-san, wait! We don't know how many there are!"

Yata's perilous cry wasn't even heard by the hot-headed man at that moment, and that's what frightened Yata most. Mikoto was not Mikoto when like this – he was the Red King, and everything his reputation portrayed him as; violent, hot-headed, short-tempered, chaos personified. If it had just been Eric and Fujishima that had been captured, Mikoto would saunter into the thugs' hideout, and injure each and every one of them severely.

But Anna was there. Anna was in trouble. And sweet little Anna, whose body was everything a creepy man desired, was in danger. And because of Anna, that meant none of those thugs would live to tell the tale of how they saw the Red King.

"Mikoto, your Sword of Damocles," panted the teen, attempting to keep up to his boss on his skateboard. "What about it?" demanded the King, and Mikoto's voice was so full of something Yata could not compare it with, his throat tightened and he bit his tongue. Falling back beside Kamamoto, Yata was silent.

Minutes later, the trio with a brooding atmosphere of violence surrounding them, turned the corner onto Briar road. There was nothing special to this particular part of town. It was residential, branching off into little different sections of the entire estate, but most of the houses were abandoned.

Those that were not were rented to criminals, or had been inhabited by street rats needing shelter had shattered or boarded up windows, broken-down doors and dirty, crumbling walls. Most of the gardens were waist-high with weeds, and the chirping squeaks of mice and rats could be heard, shuffling around in the jungles they were caught in.

Mikoto did not hesitate – the muffled sounds of conflict were brewing from the house projecting light onto the dirty, littered street, and it was only a little down the street.

"Mikoto-san, what... If Anna's not there?" asked Kamamoto, and the man immediately winced, flinching away as Mikoto spun on his heel, and his eyes flashed a dangerous shade of gold. He did not reply, rather turned again, and kept on walking, the red licking flames reaching out from the King's lean form, hissing and snatching at anything flamable.

How long had she been lying there for?

Anna's naked figure, trembling from the cold and terror, had been tied to a bedpost, and she'd been fondled and groped, then there was shouting, and the door of the tiny, musty bedroom had been closed and she was alone again.

Only there were monsters in the dark. She could hear them. In the looming, creeping shadows that threatened to swallow her up, there were things that moved. No matter how still she lay, how quietly she breathed, the sounds that shook her to the very core did not cease. The sweaty hands that had been laid upon her pale skin minutes, hours before, still burned their brands on her, and she desperately wanted to bathe.

Even though she was at the tender age of eleven and did not understand much of men and how their brains worked, she understood that what had been done to her wasn't right. So she lay there, shivering with her tear-stained face buried against the old, blood spattered bed sheets.

The only article of clothing protecting her dignity were her white stockings, and one had fallen down to her knee. Her hair, she could feel, was a mess and knotted something terrible. The bad men had done away with her dress. The gag in her mouth had long ago soaked up the saliva, leaving her throat dry and sore. She couldn't see through the dark, leaving her blind to her surroundings, and frightened.

"I'm gonna enjoy this."

The man's chapped, puffy lips stretched into a smile across his sweat-slick face, and Anna whimpered, her grey eyes wide in fear. With one hand, he blocked her vision, and used to other to lead her down the hallway.

She stumbled after him, stupid and blind, and as the wood beneath her feet turned to carpet, she was thrown away. Her feet caught in themselves, and she was on the ground, dazed and breathless. She heard a door close, and she searched the dark for light.

But there was none.

Her body was then hauled up and shoved roughly down onto the bed. Her hat was ripped from her silvery locks, and she yelped as her dress was being torn at. She lashed out with her foot, and her button-over shoe came loose, falling off to tumble away onto the floor.

Her kick had missed, and then her dress was ripped from her body, and Anna yelped. Her underwear soon followed, and with what she assumed was a rope, her wrists were bound together.

Her arms were wrenched up, and she could feel the rope straining as the man tied it to the headboard of the cast-iron bed. Then his hands wandered – rubbing over her barely developed assests, ghosting along her stomach and then down further. "No!" she cried, though he did not heed, and she lay there thrashing violently as this man attempted to touch her.

She knew it was wrong, and she didn't want it. But she couldn't stop him.

Her leg flew up, and her foot collided with something – his jaw? Must have been, because he let out a shriek of agony, and cursed, before delivering a slap to her face. She gasped and whimpered as the coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth.

"You little bitch!" growled the man who was assaulting her, and her neck was caught in his iron grip. Her breathing shuddered and stopped, and the erratic thumping in her chest was violent in her ribcage, her heart threathing to burst.

Another slap, and Anna's cheek flared in heat and pain. Her hair was bunched in his other hand, and he wrenched her head to the side, and she screamed. The scream was loud, like the wail of a cat and the man's grip loosened. From downstairs, there was a roar, and a loud crash, followed by more angered shouts.

The man cursed again beneath his breath, and let Anna's hair go in a violent gesture. "I'll be back."

Mikoto's flaming aura shot like a bullet from his body, and the door barracading their entry shrieked beneath his power, before the hinges melted and the wood burst into flames, shards of it flying everywhere. The airborne pieces crashed with his aura and combusted, the ash flitting away on a breath of air. The smoke surrounded them as the three entered the building, a pure sight of havoc.

Mikoto was a bomb, and he was ticking.

Two burly men already came thundering blindly forward, and the King anticipated their brutal attack. A fist came aiming for the left side of his face, which he dodged without effort, and a wooden plank came for his thigh. He tightened the muscles in his leg, and brought up his knee in a powerful thrust and as the wood connected with his thigh, it split and cracked beneath the contact.

The man wielding it cried from confusion, and his face met Yata's fist in a furious punch. There were nearly thirty of those thugs in total, and Mikoto spotted Fujishima and Eric over by the staircase, two to each of them. "Mikoto-san!" yelled Fujishima, his bloodied and bruised face lighting up.

Eric lunged forward, striking his attacker with a low jab, his hand connecting with the man's abdomen. The thug's knees buckled, and he went down with a breathless shout. Mikoto walked past them, hands shoved into his pockets. He interpretted no attack as he went to the stairs, his power pulsating around him like a barrier.

He hardly noticed the cries of joy from his clansmen as they rushed into the fight with glee. Step by step, he climbed the stair, and the old, rotting wood creaked beneath his heavy boots.

The silent approach apparently didn't go unnoticed. A rather fat man, but well muscled, dressed in black with a heavy gold chain hanging from his neck was standing braced against one of the bedroom doors. Mikoto stared at him as he stood on the landing, his eyes flickering to the door.

Anna.

He didn't even need to see her – her scent and fear overpowered the King's senses a moment, and he knew that indeed was his darling little princess in that room.

"Move," said Mikoto quietly, and the man bristled.

"D'you know who I am, kid?" demanded the head Yakuza.

Mikoto's impassive expression belatedly replied. "I'm Kurono Miki! And you, my friend, have stumbled upon a very dangerous situation," proclaimed the man.

"That's a girl's name," was Mikoto's reply, "and I think you should move from that door."

"No way. This lil' girl is like a dream come true. A strain, and such a pretty one at that? You hardly think I'm gonna let her go. And to such scum like you!"

Mikoto's beast roared, and stood onto its hind legs. How dare he. The aura around Mikoto suddenly crackled, and electric impulses sparked through his pretty red. There was a deep rumbling sound from Mikoto's chest, and the power was suddenly unleashed. In silent waves of hot fury, his aura rushed at the thug, and the screams that followed were no match for what Mikoto wanted him to feel. Hotter, thought the King, and the flames burned brighter.

Completely disregarding the mangled, disintegrating corpse, Mikoto sauntered to the door, and opened it, ignoring the unfathomable stink of burning hair and flesh. The room was dark, and there was a strong musky scent of something unmistakably feminine, mingled with the smell of sweat and fear.

Anna's breaths were uncoordinated and jumpy, Mikoto could hear, and he heard her shuffle and shift on the bed. He felt around on the wall for the lightswitch, and as luminous lemon light filtered through the dark, he saw a sight that both sickened and frightened him.

Anna's tiny form lay stretched on the bed, her hands tied high above her head. Her silvery-white hair was matted and wild, and her mouth was bound in a gag. Acres of pale, sweet skin was revealed, and his eyes traveled over every inch of her exposed body. To the bare curves of her waist, along the defined lines of her hips... And to the white stockings she was so fond of, one bunched at her knee.

And it was so wrong.

She was only a baby, not meant for a scenario so cruel as this. Yet still, his beast growled in pleasure. Mine, it snarled with a gutteral sound. No one elses. She is mine. And despite the truth, it pained Mikoto to see the red marks of handprints that were not his marring the pale of her chest, stomach and thighs.

The King's golden eyes averted themselves as he made his way towards the bed, and began to untie Anna's bindings. As soon as her hands wriggled free of the rope, she leaped up, wrapped her hands around his neck, and fell back.

Mikoto could not help but fall to the bed with her, and lay there with her, feeling her body shudder as she sobbed. They weren't loud, dramatic cries, but desperate, scared sobs that racked her whole body. And her scent... It teased his nose, and awoke every slumbering fantasy to life in his brain. But he lay there, controlled as he held her to him, sitting up and pulling her fragile little body onto his lap.

Instead of taking advantage of the moment to chastise her, he shrugged off his coat, and held it out to her. "Put your arms out," he muttered, and the leashed fury in his voice made Anna's eyes widen in fear. Her arms sprung to life, and quickly, he slid the jacket on. If she were standing, its hem would fall to her knees. He stood, and she slithered from his lap.

Anna's knees suddenly buckled beneath her own slight weight, and his grip went to her arm, firm and supportive. She let out a little frustrated cry and hung her head.

That sound.

The shore scenery crashed around him, smacking his reality away, and the bitter taste of seawater invaded his mouth, his eyes widening. No, please. He collapsed to his knees, hands on Anna's shoulders as the sea crashed angrily about them in transparent waves of choking, belligerent black.

"M-Mikoto?" stuttered the Princess, but he barely heard her over the sound of his own loud silence. His eyes closed, and he kneeled there miserably, as though he'd failed her. God, that vision was haunting his every waking moment. He couldn't... Function. The grief of the loss he had not yet suffered smothered his realistic perspective.

And it was so frightening.

A bang from downstairs dragged Mikoto's flailing form back to reality and he was pulled from the dark waters of his own inner turmoil. He reached down, and pulled Anna's stocking up, before clasping the zip of his coat and zipping it closed, hiding the Princess's naked body.

Standing, he scooped her up like a sack of feathers, and she curled into his chest, arms winding like snakes around his neck. She had stopped crying, and was silent now, but their connection projected all the confusion, terror and loss she was feeling onto him.

"I'm sorry, Anna," he mumbled as the descended the staircase, and he wasn't surprised to see his clansmen sitting triumphantly in a circle of fallen thugs. "We got 'em, boss."

Author's Note: I apologize due to the rushed air of this chapter! I wanted to get an update done before I go away for the next few days – though I know it should have come like a month ago. I've come back to the world of anime, and wanted to share with you this little bit of drama I had in mind. So I hope you enjoyed, and if not, this might be edited later on! Thanks for bearing with me!