A/N: I braved the lag to create an NA account, and though my ping is a steady 220-300 (which hits 1000 on bad days), I can still play, though not well. My IGN is KGP Kido Tsubomi, if anyone wants to add me and say hi / play with me in AI! OTL

KGP stands for Kagepro / Kagerou Project, which I am currently addicted to because the songs are amazing and the story has so much angst, and Kido is one of the characters in it, my new waifu~ Not gonna comment on the anime here, but I didn't have a positive experience with it (dissatisfied growling)

I am sorry for the late update, but school has been demanding that I write for it first, and it isn't easy to write on demand. I still have a story that needs editing and a story that needs filming…

A very busy,

Haruka

Katarina's POV

The good mood I had from my successful frightening of Tryndamere Gelid evaporated completely when I set my eyes on Ashe this morning. She is limping noticeably, which means she must be in extreme pain, and the makeup on her cheeks and forehead just barely conceals the bruises that have formed there. She has a scratch on her cheek and goddess-knows-what-else hidden under the layers of her clothing, yet no one else seems to notice.

Gingerly, she takes her seat next to me, letting out a barely audible hiss as her body bends. Straightening in her seat, she winces minutely again, setting her things out as carefully as she can manage. I step in, offering to help, but she brushes me away with a small smile, softly telling me not to ruin my "bad girl" reputation by being nice in public.

Noticing the bandage around my left arm, she murmurs under her breath, concern clear in her eyes, "What happened, Kat? Is it bad?"

Those questions are like a knife to the chest, my heart aching as I shrug it off; she is hurt so badly, yet she worries about a minor injury like my own… That idiot Tryndamere is blessed to have a girl like her practically given to him on a silver platter, yet he most likely treats her worse than shit. You're going to have to leave him another friendly message… my inner voice encourages, fury and bloodlust making for a very dangerous combination.

"It's nothing," I shrug through gritted teeth, and though she is obviously unconvinced, she does not pry, facing the board with her honor-student mask firmly fixed.

Most fortunate people, born with nearly everything they desire dropped into their laps, take every single thing for granted. The more valuable and beautiful it is, the more they will think they deserve better, or that it is nothing but an entitlement. And those who are stuck with the short end of the stick, the ones who are the looked-over gifts, force their smiles and attempt to pretend nothing is wrong.

Father taught us that, when we were little, constantly reminding us that in Noxus, we are not allowed to be either. Noxians work for their strength, reputation and riches, regardless of their birth standing, and we of the Du Couteau Clan are not exempt from that rule. Also, he taught us that so we could learn to tell the difference, to hurt only the former and to attempt to recruit the latter, whom are often bitter and angry enough to turn their backs on the world.

On and on, the sadistic Math teacher drones, going in to the differentiation of trigonometric equations or something like that, before assigning us a whole list of example questions to "test our understanding". Biting her lip discreetly, Ashe bears the pain as she quietly does as she is told, keeping her hisses and yelps as muffled as possible, trying not to let it show. Those lovely crystal blue eyes are fogged over, tears pricking at their edges, but everyone in the room but me is oblivious.

Seriously, is every single nerd here deaf and blind? It is so f**king obvious that Ashe is in pain, but no one is able to tell! If only the teacher would notice, maybe she could tell the Lord of the Freljord house so he can put a stop to it. There's no way a father would allow his daughter to be treated this way, right? And of course, hearing from a teacher is much more legitimate than hearing from a murderous assassin.

Ashe's stiff, ginger movements shred at my heart, tugging at old scars, threatening to tear them open again. Someone I love is being hurt again, and I am still as helpless as before…

"KATTT!" my sister's piercing shriek cuts into every fiber of my being, ripping me apart from the inside out. "KAT, HELP!"

No! I cannot and will not allow anyone I love to get hurt, never again! I have already lost someone important to me, I will not lose another! I will do whatever I can to protect Ashe, even if I have to risk everything else!

Gritting my teeth, I resist the urge to rip holes into my desk, continuously telling myself to wait until lunch before I grill the white haired girl for the personal details of the dead f**king bastard who hurt her. I can afford to skip any class I want, even jump out the window in the middle of it, but Ashe is an heiress with a stick-up-the-arse father to answer to, and I will not risk adding to her problems. A possibly abusive, obviously chauvinistic fiancé is bad enough, I don't want to lump her daddy on top of that.

"Ms. Freljord, could you please answer question 12 on the board?" the teacher asks, holding out a marker. As expected, Ashe rises obediently, struggling to take each and every step that separates her desk from the teacher's table, and then the teacher's table from the whiteboard.

Raising her arm, her eyes cloud over with agony as she begins to write, her smooth, neat hand undisturbed despite her pain. The teacher calls another person, some dude with the surname Johnson, to answer the next question just as she is about to finish, and the little f**ker speed-walks just to be able to "accidentally" touch her.

She winces minutely, passing the marker to the idiot who is apologizing with a stupid grin on his face before making the slow, torturous journey back to her seat. Damn the little bastard, I'm going to kill him! How dare he hurt my Ashe?!

Another student going up to answer the next question bumps into her shoulder, and this time, her gasp is clearly audible. The idiot apologizes, looking truly upset this time, and I struggle to contain my desire for bloodshed. Her steps are smaller now, as if she is trying not to aggravate her injuries, but it does not seem to be working out.

Unable to stand watching the girl I love in such obvious agony, I leap up before she is even halfway to her seat, grab her by the wrist and drag her out of class, ignoring the displeased nagging of the teacher.

"Ms. Du Couteau, you get back in here right now!"

Rolling my eyes, I toss my new friend, the sharpened metal ruler, at her just before we fade out of sight, taking out a little bit of my anger and frustration on a conveniently helpless target. Under my skin, my blood boils, hatred festering in my murderous heart as my inner voice comes up with as many slow, painful ways as possible to punish Tryndamere Gelid for all he has done. If I have proof, if she is willing to tell me, to trust me, I will ensure he regrets ever being born…

"K-Kat…?" Ashe asks softly, wincing as she forces herself to keep up with me, "Is something wrong?" I want to answer honestly, but I know that I will explode if I do, so I choose to ignore her question and continue moving.

I remain silent until we reach the back garden, the black cat from before purring when it notices our arrival. Ignoring it, Ashe looks at me quizzically, patiently awaiting an explanation as the little thing rubs itself against her wounded legs, making her hiss softly.

"Who was the one that hurt you?" I growl lowly, hatred smoldering in my gaze, and she immediately stiffens.

"I'm not –" before she can continue the lie, I cut her off, anger and concern obvious in my tone, "If you want to lie to me, Ashe, you're gonna have to do better than that."

Averting her eyes, she mumbles, "It's a secret, Kat."

I plead desperately, slightly wounded that she does not trust me, "You can keep your secrets, Ashe, but if they're hurting you, please, tell me."

"Why do you worry for me?" she asks softly, raising her head to look me in the eyes. Again, those beautiful blue orbs are painfully hollow, filled with a lifetime's worth of pain and dread.

"Why do you worry for me?" I reply, gesturing to my bandaged arm. She blushes, scarlet flowering over her porcelain skin, averting her eyes as she mumbles something about not knowing why at all.

Bending slightly so I can look into her eyes, I tell her that I feel the same way, that I am unsure why I care so much (a lie), but I really, really do (not a lie). I tell her that she can trust me with anything, that I will never even dream of hurting her because she is so goddamn important to me, that I will always be there for her and should she ever want me, she should just ask.

Warmth and hope flickers in her ice blue eyes as she mumbles, still blushing furiously, "I-is it okay if we skip the rest of the day?"

Sensing an opening, I assure her, "Of course it is. We'll tell them that I kidnapped you against your will if anyone asks."

Ashe nods minutely, hesitantly approaching me, and I slowly draw her into an embrace, careful not to aggravate her injuries any further than I already have. After a brief moment, I pull away from her and gently guide her to my motorcycle, carefully helping her onto it before hopping on myself.

Though I long to get home as soon as possible, I am aware that scaring Ashe half to death is not a good idea, so I suppress my nature and obey the stupid traffic laws once again. Stopping at every red light, lagging behind fat buses and not tailgating is immensely painful for me, but I suck it up and do it anyway, pretending not to notice that Ashe is crying into my back.

I will not fail this time. I don't care what I have to do; I will protect you, Ashe Avarosa Freljord, even at the cost of my own life.

Ashe's POV

The moment we took off from school at a law-abiding speed of 40, I could not stop my tears from falling. Though she was impatient, angry and frustrated, she still remembered that I did not like her usual speed and forced herself to slow down. Why does she even care…?

Tightening my arms around her waist, I continue to sob as discreetly as possible into her back, unsure of the exact reason for my tears. Am I crying because of the wounds that litter my soul, or because of the warmth that radiates from deep within my being just because she cares…?

The motorcycle rolls gently to a stop inside Kat's garage, but she remains motionless instead of rushing me to her apartment. She is burning with questions, yet is willing to quietly wait out my emotional breakdown, giving me time to let it out. Oh, Katarina… what have I ever done to deserve you?

"K-Kat…" I hiccup, breathing still unsteady, "w-we can go now…"

She nods with a warm smile, holding the motorcycle steady as I struggle to disembark, telling me to be careful and to take my time. When I finally manage to get back onto solid ground, bruises protesting in various places, I yelp as I am suddenly swept off my feet.

"K-Kat…!" I protest, blushing like a young schoolgirl with a huge crush, and she chuckles in amusement.

"There's no way you're walking up those stairs, not on my watch," the protective note in her voice causes the strange warmth in my chest to return, alongside butterflies in my stomach. Looking at the ground, I refuse to respond as she slowly bridal-carries me up the steep stairs.

"Whoa, isn't she just your tutor?" an amused whistle comes from the second floor landing, and I turn to see the pink haired woman from before, Vi, sitting outside her apartment messing with extremely complicated-looking machinery.

Kat shrugs ambiguously in response, and the woman simply grins before returning to her tinkering. Goddess knows what she thinks of us, but I guess it does not really matter because she will never run off to tell my father or Lord Tryndamere. Real gangsters do not gossip, according to Kat, so I should be able to trust Vi not to go around spreading rumors. Also, I would… I would like if Kat and I were really in a relationship like that…

What on earth are you thinking? You have obligations to fulfill. Behave. Are you about to spill your secrets? What about your mother and brother? Behave.

Gently setting me down on her couch, Kat draws back and sits cross-legged on the table, emerald eyes boring into me expectantly, "Can you tell me what's wrong now?"

I want to, I really do, but my words are clogged in my throat and the voice in my head forbids it. For a few minutes, I struggle futilely to speak, unable to even open my mouth. At last, I give in with a soft sigh, shaking my head wordlessly as I stare holes into the ground.

"Can you… show me?" she asks softly.

Hesitating, I wonder what I should do, the voice in my head's chanting rising to an unbearable intensity. Ashe Avarosa Freljord, listen to me. You will not give in to this girl. Behave. Remember what is at stake. Your mother and Ashton's lives, the lives of many innocents, all ride on your shoulders. Behave.

Silently, I struggle to rise, Kat's eyes widening as she asks me what I am doing. My throat refuses to cooperate, so I can only stare soundlessly at the windows, hoping that she will get my message. Somehow, she understands, as if she could read my mind, rising to close them and drawing the curtains before flicking on the light. After she inspects the curtains once more, she returns to her seat on the table, satisfied.

"Better?" she asks, and I nod immediately.

Taking a deep breath, I gently unwind the bandages around my stomach, allowing them to fall to the ground. Next, I pull off my gloves, resisting the urge to blush, dropping them on top of the bandages. Kat gasps immediately at the sight of my arms, littered with scratches and bruises, a powerful fire already burning in her eyes as I struggle to grip the top of my dress, slowly and carefully pulling it down.

The fact that I am stripping before the girl I have feelings for refuses to be shoved aside, and my face is tomato-red by the time I step out of the garment. I am in my underwear in front of Katarina Du Couteau… For a brief moment, this realization chases the dread and fear from my throbbing heart.

"What the f**k…" she hisses, her eyes wide with anger, fear and concern, "Damn, that's really bad…" Something tells me that she did not expect my injuries to be of this scale; I guess it does seem quite unlikely that an heiress is being physically abused to this extent…

As always, there are bruises all over my body, encircling my neck, crawling across my shoulders, flowering over my ribs and trailing down my limbs. On top of that are scratches and scrapes, most of them minor, but there is an ugly cut on my right shoulder where Lord Tryndamere had smashed a glass plate on last night.

Her fury has completely melted now, replaced with undiluted horror. Her face is pale, her hands trembling as she gently reaches out to run her fingers over the particularly bad bruise on the side of my neck. "Goddess, Ashe, your neck is swollen…"

I remain silent, staring at the ground as I hug myself in a subconscious attempt to hide my bare skin. Fortunately, I am wearing a simple black bra today, instead of the strange lacey ones Lord Tryndamere bought for me, which he told me to wear whenever he desired to strip me before beating me.

Shifting her hands to the crude bandages on my shoulder, she gently unwinds it, gasping in horror at the sight of the cut before bolting to get a first-aid kit. From the firm yet gentle way she binds my wound, I know that she is experienced in these kinds of things; being a gangster must equate to getting hurt a lot, and I guess they have to take care of themselves since they hate showing weakness.

Carefully, Kat applies antiseptic on every single one of my scrapes and cuts, popping plasters over the bloodier ones and leaving the less serious to air. As she works, she does not say a word, completely focused on her task.

Once she is done, the redhead grips my shoulders gently, looks me in the eyes and asks, "Who did this to you?"

I want to tell her, I really do, but the voice in my head warns me that the consequences could end up costing lives, that this might all be an elaborate ploy for her to obtain blackmail material. However, another voice deep within me refuses to believe that, sure that Kat means everything that she has said and will never hurt me.

Burying my face in the crook of Kat's neck, I try my best to gather my courage, forcing the words to form in the dry air at the back of my throat. She does not rush me, rubbing circles into my back as she waits, which helps immensely.

She will only turn and stab you in the back. Everything you hold dear will be destroyed. Beha-

I don't believe you! Kat is not that kind of person!

Katarina Du Couteau is a dangerous Noxian assassin. Are you not suspicious of why she cared for you so suddenly? Behave. She –

You know what?

What?

I trust her over you.

Wait, Ashe –

Ignoring the negative voice, I choke out, "L-Lord Tryndamere…"

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review if you have any comments; I would really love to hear from you!

Should I continue?

Haruka