Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin belongs to its rightful license corporation and its mangaka, whose name had sadly, eluded from my memory at the moment. I only own the concept and the process of writing this story.

RK fanfiction: AU, K/K, K/E, A/M, slight M/S

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BLOOD AND CHOCOLATE Chapter 1: Drugs and Alcohol

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She stood in front of the entrance of the little tea shop at the corner of the broad street. The sky drizzled and the air felt damp on her naked shoulders. A firefly rested on her arms; she brushed it away with one gloved hand. Her alabaster arms were a magnificent sight against the rouge noir gloves. Against the dim yellow light that was emitted from the lanterns on the roof at the entrance, her silhouette, though masked by layers of black cloth, was slender and feminine.

Before she went in she could already pick up the scent of alcohol and cigarettes. It seemed that no matter how many seasons the Earth had seen, mankind could never - ever- rid itself from the lure of the deadly nectar and tobacco.

She sighed. Enishi, disciplined and proud as he was, was not immune from the drugs' spell either. Usually, in his drunken fury, some unlucky bandmember would end up having a black eye or a broken rib. He dislocated her arms once - and just once, as she then pinpointed the tip of a sabre -from his collection, by the way- against his throat and made him swear that he'd never do it again.

She woke from her valley of daydreams and observed her surroundings. Basic instincts and thorough, sharp observations had more or less shunned her away from danger in her three years on the job. Combined with her unique but deadly skills, she had climbed, through bloodshed and feuds, to be directly under Enishi's wing.

She knew very well that she had earned her place through her skills - and she made sure that the others acknowledged this as well. Any moment, any day, and some other aspiring bandmember could strike her down. She was aware of that. Snapping herself back to reality, she tilted her headgear and walked, silently, amidst the waves of people at the entrance, into the shoppe.

She blinked instinctively as she stepped into the "tea shop". It was really more of a bar and had little or no resemblance to the usual subtle décor of a tea shop. The light was a deep red; the only thing she could make out from the dark were the blurred shapes of the hordes of waitresses. Their bodies glistened with glitter and dabs of glowing paint, and they were strutting around the place, occasionally clinging onto some of the customers.

Most of the people who frequent this place were men. As her eyes started to adjust to the light, she began to recognize many of the faces. Miyazaki Keitaro, the self-proclaimed green peace political leader, was sitting at the VIP table along with a foreign country's cabinet member, Jean LeBlanc. On their right sat a few other men, all laughing heartily to the conversation and throwing racy jokes at each other. Much to the girl's disgust, the men were also letting their hands roam free on the nearby waitresses' bodies. One of the women had her long legs wrapped around a man sitting beside her. From where the girl was standing, the groups of men and women blended together and appeared as a dark, sluggish blob.

On the dance floor, a harem of sweat-tinged bodies mingled and grinded against each other. The hypnotic trance music was blasting in full volume, and the smoke from the marijuana and cigarettes were shrouding and drowning the place. All the bodies were veiled by a red thin mist, and when the laser lights on the ceiling hit the bodies below, screams and moans of ecstasy echoed all throughout. The mass was moving, jumping, sliding and overwhelming everything in sight. She could literally taste these people's primal needs and hear that silent raving, lustful cries that seeped around in the air.

The girl tightened her hold on her sword. The laughter, music and talking heightened in volume, overwhelming every sense of her being. She slowed down in her tracks but never stopped. She knew that the sound effects, combined with the lights and smoke were meant to set the mob into frenzy. Once they do, dealers that lounge casually in the corners would emerge from their hiding places and sell drugs to these poor, lost souls. Even her, a trained assassin, with her entire life learning and knowing how to focus her energy, was somewhat moved by the haunting mix of sound and perpetual light in the place.

Without losing her posture, she picked up her pace and advanced into the deepest back of the spacious room. Two burly, expressionless men stopped her from going further. Even in the darkness of the room, their muscular build stood out prominently, a threatening sight against the petite frame of the girl. A man's deep voice boomed into her ear.

"This area is restricted, little lady."

The corner of the girl's lips were slightly pulled up and curved into a smile. She gave a soft chuckle and rested her left palm on the hilt of her sword. With her profile still shrouded by the headgear, she shifted the blade out of its cover and let a small part of the blade to be seen.

She could smell their fear and uncertainty before they speak. The one on the left had the colours drained from his face, while the other one that dared to question her cocked an eyebrow, his face an expression of confusion.

She held her stance and shifted her arm to her waist, revealing her long gloves that were hidden by the darkness of the room. Her face remained hidden, but from the guards' angle, they could see her delicately chiselled profile under the headgear, and the cruel smirk that hung on her elegant chin.

She was toying with them and enjoying every single moment of it.

By now both guards recognized the girl. They trembled slightly, unable to conceal their fear of the small figure that stood in front of them. They quickly parted away from the curtain of beads and precious stones; one of them pulled it apart to let her through, all the while with their heads bowed.

"Dozo," the guards said with their heads lowered and their gaze averted to the ground, not daring to move. The girl walked ahead. Her movements agile and light, she opened the mahogany door behind the curtain, ascended a few steps and entered the room.

The room was simply adorned. All there existed in it were an enormous four-post bed, a wine cellar and a table-and-chair set that were carved out from a piece of marble. A sheet of white lion fur was thrown carelessly across the back of the grand, lofty chair.

It fits him, she mused.

The door gave a light click behind the girl. Despite herself, she flinched from the sound. She then quickly scanned the room, noting the absence of the man, the much-feared individual who controlled a good half of this country.

He was her superior, and the only one that can counter her power and skills.

All of a sudden, the chair swivelled and turned to the girl's view. She jumped and almost gave a yelp. How could she- just how could she fail to detect the breathing, the tiny pumping of the blood pulsing through the veins, the change in the temperature of the room?

There was only one person, one person that she'd know of, who could conceal himself from her.

It was the man: the owner of this secret chamber.

She quickly undid the bow under her chin and discarded her headgear. In a swift motion, the girl knelt down on one knee, her head lowered.

"I am sorry, sir. I should have waited for your call."

The man observed her in silence. He unfolded his long, slender legs and brushed a hand into his fine white mane. Placing his large, refined hands on the marbled table, he stood up to his full height, his impressive hair in a mysterious halo that displayed a sharp contrast against the darkness of the room.

He smiled, pleased at her submission in his sight.

"Welcome back, Kaoru-san."

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Akira was a bartender.

He enjoyed his job and had always been good at it. He could fix any drink: Bloody Mary, Tequila Sunrise. name it and he could make it. He was so good at his work that slowly, the people in the city started to refer him simply as the bartender. It was as if Akira himself became the definition of this word in the dictionary.

Akira never had a smooth career path, however; it was Enishi who brought him away from the slumps, nurtured his talents and raised to the status that the bartender was in today. Akira remembered very well how the other people had jeered and laughed at him for trying to strive for his dream. He had wanted to mix drinks at a bar for as long as he could remember, but given the circumstances of his life, he knew that it was just what it was: a dream.

And then Enishi came.

He tended his wounds and gave him his full support. He gave Akira all the tools he needed; he even bought a bar so that the latter could practice his skills. And Akira did not fail him - his talent was so great that in a few weeks' time since his first appearance at the club scene, people flocked to his - Enishi's, really- bar for the music, the dancing, and of course, the famous drinks. His fame grew; competitions were held after his name, and visitors from all around the world came to the bar to try his drinks at any price.

Enishi gave him all that, and all he asked Akira in return was his undivided loyalty. Akira obeyed with all his heart; he had vowed to follow the white-haired man to the ends of the earth the first moment that they'd met, and would have done so without his asking.

As he stayed by Enishi's side, the nature of his job grew in difficulty and complexity. He became more than a bartender. Enishi taught him fistfights, fencing skills and made the younger boy grew comfortable with a gun. Over the years, Akira started to act as the leader of teams of Enishi's elite, deadly fighters. They scout around in this crime-ridden city, sniffing out danger and gaining advantages for their leader. They all shared a common goal: to make Enishi the ruler of the country - or rather, the ruler of the entire human population.

In the night, Akira continued with his favourite hobby, all the while spying on the customers that come into the shop. He seeked out potential trade partners and eliminated numerous foes of Enishi's. Enishi took him away from the slumps that he had lived in, and Akira would do anything to repaid him. He would even take a bullet for Enishi.

Akira knew his boss better than anyone. He was a man without a weakness and he ruled with an iron fist; he made people tremble at his feet with sheer talent and raw force.

Or so it seemed.

Unlike the fools that come into the shop, Akira stayed alert and focus in spite of the hypnosis in the music and drugs that had blinded so many. Although he appeared drunk and wild to the crowd, Akira always observed the environment with a cool demeanor. And sometimes, he would see and learn more of Enishi than he was supposed to.

Yet ever since that girl came along, it seemed to Akira that Enishi had.wavered.

Akira was not blind. He could sense the subtle, repressed changes in his boss whenever that girl - that Kaoru - was around.

An absolute perfectionist, Enishi would break free of his mannerism and act somewhat.deranged in front of her. He would do all the unusual things, such as saying more than he should, raising his voice, and smiling at her.

Akira knew that it was not a natural smile. Although he admitted to be under the heavy influence of Enishi, he was luckier than his master, in the fact that he had seen a real smile before. But nonetheless, Enishi seemed a lot more emotional at her sight.

And Akira felt uncomfortable with this revelation. The girl seemed oblivious, or perhaps too afraid to acknowledge the fact that Enishi acted different in her presence. Nonetheless, this was dangerous. She was powerful and possessed skills at her sword far superior to his own. She was a trained assassin, with a mysterious past that only Enishi knew of. And if Akira was Enishi's right-hand man, she stood by on his left side, as the head swordsmaster of the "pack" and the lead soldier of Enishi's army.

Akira knew too much about what she was capable of, and knew almost nothing as to how to strike back at her if she posed a threat. In short, they were comrades, but she was also a lethal foe. Most importantly, she could interfere with their - or his- plan.

He was at a disadvantage, and time was running out.

Akira did not like this. He did not like this at all.

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Dear readers: please review! Whether you enjoy the story or not, please let me know what you think! I ask you to consider doing this since I would love to know what the readers of this story think. Reviews meant so much to me and they are the motivation to my continuing the story. I would also learn how to do a better job with this, and as you probably know, all writers crave feedback.

Thank you for reading.

***** Hiake-san: this fic is dedicated to you. *heart*

Contact Cha at: panpan2spcs@yahoo.com