The full moon's light streamed in through the penthouse window, bathing everything in its eerie silver glow. It was well past the hour when the world went to bed; even most of the yakuza had retreated to rest and lick their wounds. Sanada Genichirou, however, was still awake. He stood at the bedroom window, gazing out at the world below. He rarely slept. His mind was too busy with plans and assaults, battles won and lost. Behind him, he could hear the quiet sounds of his lover slumbering.

When he'd taken the helm of the Rikkai Corporation, it was still a front business, very up-and-up and an excellent cover for the yakuza activities that went on beneath its seemingly spotless exterior. As the fighting with Hyotei increased, though, they'd all had to retreat down to the underworld. Hyotei had more men and more resources, but Rikkai was winning all the important battles. They took their toll, though.

Another soft noise, this one sounding more like it came from a waking person rather than a sleeping one, got him to turn. The wan light picked out the colors of the tattoo on his shirtless torso, the gory scene spreading across muscled back and down sinewy arms, the ink depicting samurai committing seppuku while tigers coiled restlessly around the edges. He walked over to the bed and sat down, idly smoothing a bit of red hair out of that lovely face with calloused fingertips. The slender form stretched, yawned, then blinked as a single dark blue eye focused in on the elder yakuza.

"Still awake, baby?" Kamio Akira's voice was hazy with slumber, his vision clearing a bit but not entirely. His good eye was still sharp, but the fact that his blind side was facing up threw his perception off somewhat. He scooted over, half-curling himself around Sanada's side.

"You know I don't sleep much." The deep voice was cold, painted with ice and tinted with frost. It was far from the redhead's warm, lively, occasionally strident tones. They seemed very disparate on the surface; most of the Rikkai group were confused as to why the Emperor kept the diminutive Black Cat in his bed. They didn't have a damn thing in common, after all, beyond being yakuza. Sanada settled on the bed, pulling the redhead close.

"You need to sleep more." Kamio curled up next to his lover, blue eyes concerned. The Emperor never slept. He collapsed from exhaustion before he slept. Lately it had been getting worse and worse; it was almost as though those things that made him human were eroding, leaving nothing but a breathing machine in their place. Kamio tried to stop the destruction, but it seemed that all he could do was slow it. "Rest now?"

Sanada relented, laying down and keeping his young lover near. The eleven years' worth of age difference didn't matter; Kamio exerted a calming influence, lending him the feeling that he was home and comfortable. He never got that feeling anywhere else, with anyone else. Tucking his arms gently around the slim frame, he nuzzled at russet waves of hair, frozen brown eyes closing. "Wake me if the phone rings."

"Mmmhmm." Kamio snuggled himself up tightly. Sometimes it concerned him, the way that his lover never understood emotional expressions. He knew their bond was a strong one, but it was the kind of bond that ran well beneath the surface, beneath the ice that shrouded the Emperor's soul. He never got a response, but he said it anyway. The other reciprocated in his own fashion. "Love you."

There was indeed no response. Sanada merely kissed the redhead gently, much-needed sleep pulling him down into its embrace. He didn't understand those words, had dealt out too much death to know what love was anymore. As he followed his already-dozing lover into slumber, he decided that all he needed to know was that Kamio was his, and he'd do anything to protect the one at his side.