Disclaimer: I do not own X. the Prison is mine though and is based (in name only) on a prison over here. Pochi Project was something I saw on Oz.

Author's notes: the ranks of wardens here go by military ranks as it is over here anyways. Plus I've aged characters who in X are too young to fill in the roles of this story.

Author's Thanks:
To me devoted beyond good health and sleepless (minus Ritsuka and Soubi, ah, i made a funny) beta. to Tekoo (Tekoooooooooooooooooo! I'm glad I made you feel domestic and yes Karen deserves much respect in this story and in X in her original form!), to Elf Asato (my dear, my darling, many many many many thanks for the Pysio review and the hint within it, here you go with a new Behind chapter. You really shouldn't worry about this story stopping, it's just that I have many other stuff to write 6 other fics…da-amn! and it takes me time to get around and write them all what with me trying to work and earn money to move out of my parent's house and all. Anyways thank you!), Shinzona (ah Shinzona……what have though done to me….I am so ashamed of this, so unprofessional and embarrassing, thank you for pointing it out to me or I'd probably do the same mistake here –headdesk- and don't you go cracking no whips as no bishies! They're mine MIIIIIIIINEEEEEEEEE my preciousssssssssss…..yes I've been watching LOTR, can you blame me for wanting to see some Legolas goodne….I mean…a good movie –ehem-), Yukio from AFF (henh, here's chapter 4 for you, with what Sorata spoke of and don't worry Sei-Sei and Suby-kun will come up later in the chapters) and Geuna from AFF (I like your nickname for Sei-Sei XXXXXD) last but not least R chan from AFF (by any chance? Well, you'll get the answer to that soon won't you).

Author's Note: there you go folks, the long awaited Fuma/Kamui chapter, I hope you'll like it! oh and it's SH-A-R-O-N-Z-A prison –headdesk- many apologies for the mistake in the previous chapter.

Part 4

In the usually quiet and lenient Sharonza Heights, despite it being the home of many dangerous criminals, the 'baptism of fire' of a new warden is usually a small matter.

A small matter to a well-trained and Sharonza-knowledgeable warden, that is.

To a new warden fresh from the academy with ironed-in creases at the back of his shirt which he had to make for the formal appearance in his rank-receiving ceremony(1), the 'baptism is a nerve-wrecking, horrid, shocking, frightening experience never failing to let go of their memories to the end of their days.

After this 'baptism the newbie is declared a fully qualified warden in the prison and generally has a better life. No more back-to-back shifts, no more pranks from other wardens, no more slight disrespect from their senpais (2).

Pr. Arashi, having started her warden career under the regime of Cp. Kasumi and her band of loving warm wardens, never had such treatment before or after her 'baptism' for it was against the general atmosphere in her ward.

Her 'baptism' was when Satsuki had finally had enough of the no computer 'diet' forced on her and, maddened, leaped at Arashi with her claws aimed to carve the porcelain beauty some new facial features.

Pr. Kishuu had her stunt gun, her teargas can and enough agility to quickly duck the young woman. The incident ended with zero casualties besides Satsuki in the 'hole' for two weeks.

As she made her way to her commander's office to give a full report of what had happened for bureaucracy's sake and for future education of many more newbies to come, her comrades huddled around her draping arms and kisses on her, congratulating her for handling the situation so brilliantly.

Indeed no one ever reacted to such a blunt, out-of-the-blue attack before and a newbie at that! The incident was passed on to many generations to come in Sharonza's women's ward.

Cp. Kazumi, noticing the mess in the hall, popped her head out of her office and hollered hoarsely at her women "OI! You let go of her right now you bunch of rabid fangirls! Have you no shame? Look at the poor little girl lost in the woods of you lot! Lt. Sumeragi, you bring Kishuu-sama here right now!"

"Yes madam!"

Arashi felt hands of steel clamp on her arm and suddenly the mass of squealing praising female voices, pressing lips and limbs were no longer entangling her like tentacles of a crazed monster.

She was in her commander's office so quickly that for a whole minute she stood blinking and baffled absent-mindedly at her red haired commander.

"Pr. Kishuu," the captain boomed suddenly, her fiery red eyes almost glowing.

Lt. Sumeragi stretched into a stiff attention piercing the private before her with emerald picks.

Arashi quaked.

"OH MY GOD! WELL DONE DARLING," the captain suddenly burst and flung herself onto the girl.

Arashi, who was shorter then her captain failed once more to retrieve her coherent line of thought as she suddenly found herself hard pressed against two ample breasts under the bright blue uniform shirt. All she could focus on was the lovely rich flowery scent of her commander's perfume.

Next came the equally squishing hug from Lt. Hokuto who smelt of citrus perfume and the faintest scent of cigarettes (she walked up on her brother and tore the cigarette out of his poor hand earlier that day).

"You have done spectacularly Arashi-chan, so, so, so brilliantly well preformed! Such performance! Such cool, calculated handling of the situation!" Cp. Kazumi raved on, pressing her well-manicured, well bejeweled palm to her chest where her heart is.

"Why, the wardens who came there told me that you never even flinched, that you never even changed your expression!" Hokuto chimed in just as enthusiastically.

"Ah…that is not entirely correct madam."

"Hokuto-chan."

"That is not entirely correct…Hokuto-chan…"

"Oh?"

"I grimaced." Arashi hung her head in defeat.

The silence in the room, much like its higher-in-rank occupants, couldn't fathom the way of thought in which the private expressed herself.

"You grimaced," Cp. Karen gasped.

"Grimaced?" Hokuto chimed in.

Arashi nodded, her eyes still exploring the floor beneath her shamefully.

"GRIMACED," the captain cried.

"G-R-I-M-A-C-E-D-?-!" Her buddy to newbie-tormenting added.

Arashi took a deep breath and awaited whatever came next; a punishment or a joke on her expanse, she didn't know which of the ones she found worse though she had a sneaking suspicious she was heading towards the latter.

"My darling, my dear, my sweet, my beloved Arashi-chan, nay, today we will call you 'Arashi-sama.'"

"Oh no Captain," Arashi heard herself suddenly beg.

"It's okay to grimace my love, most newbie wardens would shriek in panic and run away crying to mommy."

Hokuto nodded enthusiastically, a philosophic expression on as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

Karen leaped off her chair and flung the office door open violently "Ladies," she barked into the halls and corridors of her ward. "A celebration is required for our newest sister's baptism of fire!"

Shrieks of joy and yells of excitement answered her from the women.

Two strong palms landed on Arashi's shoulders, making her sit on the chair before Karen's desk then spinning the chair around to face the office's door. The palms began working a wonderful (if not a bit too forceful) massage onto Arashi's tense muscles.

Pr. Kishuu was fed chocolate and cake and a special cupcake her commander baked in wait for this day to come (every new warden received this cupcake once experiencing their 'baptism') and praised and kissed and hugged many a time.

Arashi sat on the chair and blushed madly concentrating on pretending to not be there.

The next thing she was lead to the garden to…eh…have a breath of fresh air.

Little did she know that just before she was wheeled out of Karen's office (for she was still very much glued with fear to the office utility on wheels) her captain tore her phone's receiver off it's hook and told Cp. Aoki of the male ward. "You bring Sgt. Sorata down to your garden right now you hear me?"

Sorata was clawing at the fence between the two gardens, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets as he stared at the door leading into the women's ward from their garden with a puppy's loyalty and excitement.

He watched as Cp. Karen and Lt. Sumeragi brought Arashi to the garden.

He watched as, having noticed his presence there, Arashi began clawing and kicking her way back to her ward (with very little success).

"Pr. Kishuu Arashi-sama had gone through her 'baptism of fire' today," Cp. Kazumi informed Sorata officially along with the event's details.

Sgt. Arisugawa stood bewildered in the cold wintry air and wallowed in tears. "Kyaaaaaaaaaa," he informed the ladies finally.

"Do men 'kyaa'?" Lt. Sumeragi pondered.

"My angel is so brave," the sergeant whimpered.

"I am not your angel," the private seethed.

"My babe is so strong!" The sergeant wept.

"I am NOT your babe!" The private stifled a scream.

"My beloved is pure perfection," the sergeant grabbed his fist to his heart and quivered with excitement, his face red and his eyes shut tightly to stop any more un-masculine tears from running down his blushing cheeks.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE," the private heard herself scream hoarsely before she bolted out of there, into the lockers room where she changed into civilian attire, dashed out to catch the next bus back to her home where she shot into bed to snuggle up under the duvet and pretend she does not exist and that today never happened.

Not only did the day exist, it did not end there. Oh no, not at all.

She was dragged off to a nearby pub to celebrate her ceremony onwards. Sorata was there as well though, despite many a valiant attempts, he could not break through the tight ring of merry (half or completely) inebriated comrades of his angel's whom would not let go of her.

Arashi discovered that alcohol was a wonderful means of pretending she was not there and actually feeling it too.

That was the 'baptism of fire' for Sharonza Hights' Last Age of Peace's first private.

Satsuki sat curled up at the corner of her metal and glass confinement cell, kicking herself deeper and deeper into the corner until she bruised her back with the pressure.

She clawed at her scalp and forehead as she ran her hands frantically through her shortly cut hair. Her eyes stung, for many time she cried while hardly blinking or sleeping to give them a rest.

Her mind was feverish with thoughts of hate and plots of revenge.

Most of all was the looming boredom hung above her like a pendulum slowly swinging down towards her. Without her computer, without anyone here to stimulate her brain she will go crazy.

She did not go crazy in the end; she only broke down a little. The many changes she's gone through after her confinement is the stuff of a different chapter but for now the only thing needs saying is this:

Satsuki swore revenge against Pr. Kishuu Arashi of Sharonza Heights Women's Ward and she, in due time, will have this revenge carried out fully.

The 'baptism of fire' in Sharonza Heights was never really a very violent event and the principle that whatever happens, the newbie will never be physically or mentally harmed beyond a certain (very low) limit was well pressed and preserved in the protocols and regulations of both the prison's wards.

A more experienced warden will always keep a close eye on the pre-'baptism' newbie and be within reach to keep harm from being done so the event would usually go in the wards' protocol as a tiny incident mostly joked about.

The usual 'baptism' would be a prisoner refusing to listen to the newbie's order because said newbie would not say their command in a stern enough voice and failed to portray themselves as the commanding person around the prisoners.

In these evens the newbie would have to straighten their stand, better their voice and re-command the prisoner, even order for the prisoner's punishment until what was needed doing would get done and the newbie would accumulate the correct form of prisoner-handling.

Another form of 'baptism' is a prisoner caught in the act of some form of rebellion or mischief by a newbie. In that case the newbie would have to scold the prisoner properly, find and issue the right punishment for such an act and carry these two missions in a way that would bring the least humiliation over him.

This, most wardens would recall, is the hardest of acts because often the prisoners still frightened the newbies somewhat and the sudden power to issue the order of punishment would bring authority's excitement and giddiness over them along with the mind-erasing, all consuming terror of choosing the wrong punishment and it's miscarriage would lead to great humiliation and mockery amongst both prisoners and wardens.

Those two 'baptisms' were the most common of 'ceremonies' and about four of any five wardens experienced such a scorch in their first days at Sharonza Heights or any other prison.

The third and rarest of 'baptisms' was the lashing out prisoner. Nine out of ten of these cases were verbal abuse by a prisoner towards the newbie warden.

It's not the actual abuse that stresses and traumatized the newbie but the sudden situation in which a newbie had to ignore such behavior, keep it cool and react to the behavior in an appropriate way.

The catch in such a thing was that the protocol and recommendations from most commanders for reacting to verbal abuse is to ignore, smile or hush the raving prisoner with the right cool and calm from the newbie.

But it was difficult as suddenly the newbie is exposed to not one raving prisoner but a bunch of other prisoners observing, snarling, sniggering and mocking, who happened to have walked into the scene of 'baptism' and awaited the newbie's reaction.

Many newbies fall pray to aggressively reacting by counter-attack of verbal abuse, even issuing punishment, and there lies their downfall and disrespect amongst both prisoners and wardens.

But most newbies have their elderly aids by their side to give them confidence to better withstand this attack and pass the test successfully.

The rarest of 'baptism', the rarest of events in general, as rare as prisoners uproar and rebellion, is the violently lashing out prisoner who launch a physical attack at a prisoner. Even rarer are such attacks ending with actual physical damage to the newbie.

This rare-rarity is what was Pr. Shiro Kamui's 'baptism of fire'

For almost a month since he joined Sharonza's Men's Ward Pr. Shiro walked both prison and ward corridors regally, as if walking on air, detached from the buzzing prison around him.

He regarded both prisoners and fellow wardens with a certain cool and detachment as if he belonged neither here nor there.

With his fellow wardens he was polite, silent and careful, treading wisely between social bonds to keep himself from being overly engulfed by the tiny society in which he serves his duty.

He hardly befriended people and hardly made social connections. He was always kind and obedient, of course, and never patronized or scorned anyone around him, but he never bothered to make himself too friendly amongst them either.

Some said he acted like a princess and thought he was better then everyone else. Other said he is simply frightened and shocked and that this detachment is his shell to recede to when he is unable to tackle what his new environment hurled at him.

Sgt. Arisugawa had immediately adopted him as a younger brother and never saved his energy when it came to coaxing Kamui to sit by him at the lunch table, tell him more then the formally given report of his recent shift and generally spend some quality time with him.

He'd invite Kamui to bowling ball evenings with him and his gang of non-warden friends, where Kamui would sit aside silent and gentle, giggling and blushing, pouring out drinks for the lads while complimenting them for their healthy appetites and powerful bowling swings until Sorata's friends asked him why he brought a geisha over when he promised to introduce them to his new work buddy.

The kind sergeant bought him and the private a ticket to the first game of his favorite baseball team that season and spent the game half cheering for his team and half bickering with the smaller man over which team will win (it appears that Kamui was a fan of the enemy team, if only to test Sorata's patience and endurance) and learnt just how sharp tongued and witty this small, effeminate comrade can be when he wants to.

Kamui regarded Sorata as something to obey to, to laugh and smile at, to be very polite to and agree with on almost every subject, but in generally Kamui regarded Sorata as a big klutz with an even bigger mouth and the tiniest sense of tact on earth, almost as tiny as his brains.

When his comrades weren't looking Kamui would frown at them and glare at them behind their back, come up with clever comebacks for whatever half hearted insult about his freshness in the ward were turned at him and generally bitch and whine about his condition.

When his comrades weren't looking Kamui would scan the naked bodies around him in the common shower and make a careful and steady list of two things:

A list of good body traits to admire and spy through uniform shirts or pants. This list included body features to physically admire might the opportunity to seduce these traits' owner will arise.

The other list was of ugly or ridiculous body traits that Kamui kept a closer watch over might the need to pull this information in the time of argument with the traits' owners might come.

That was Pr. Shiro Kamui's treatment towards his comrades.

Towards prisoners Kamui was cold and commanding as if the spirit of a great leader possessed his frail body. One glare from those mauve fires of their new warden's and many of the well experienced and violent prisoners found themselves dumbstruck and fearful of what might come from the sweet and sensuous little mouth.

If a prisoner even began misbehaving or slackened in something, Pr. Shiro would scold him so, glare and rebuke him so, that not only the offending prisoner's blood chilled in his veins but the blood and veins of any prisoners (and often wardens) who were in the vicinity.

His commanding tone of speech was of a preacher promising fire and brimstone to his flock and as he gave it off he'd edge towards prisoner while glaring inferno directly at the frightened pair of offending eyes. Many heavily bodied and muscular prisoners found themselves suddenly backed up against a wall with cold sweat covering their bodies as they looked down at a thin, short, girlish boy with two big eyes for a stunt gun, glaring and barking at them.

All wardens had to admit that if things go on like this Pr. Shiro will be the first newbie in history who did not experience a true 'baptism of fire' simply because no one dared to provoke him.

It lasted for about a month until Pr. Shiro caught Shiyu Kusanagi staring at him at breakfast.

It was a very early hour, 05:30AM, the hour in which the prisoners working in the carpentering workshop, making tables and chairs for elementary schools to keep their minds off plotting and bickering amongst themselves, woke up to start their work's day.

Kusanagi was sleep-struck and still dizzy from ripping himself out of sweet sleep into this cruel cold world where his kind (sex criminals) were the lowest of the low and got the treatment they deserved from their fellow prisoners.

All he did was to stare at Kamui with his sleep dazed eyes and wonder if this is a male or female warden before him. Surely such delicate beauty must belong to the other sex, right?

Kamui looked so young and fresh and Kusanagi was very much lonely and depressed, not to mention not in his right mind due to the fact that he was half asleep and still in la-la-land in a sense.

Kamui spotted this and began calculating his reaction. If he will overlook it and let the man stare until his fellow wardens will pick it up then the jokes about how Kamui made a straight pedophile drool will last his comrades for the long cold winter.

Then again if he'll say something to Kusanagi for merely eating too slowly he'd embarrass himself, let alone draw his comrades to note the type of look in the prisoner's dreamy eyes.

Facing Kusanagi on the same table, absorbed in ravishing his breakfast of omelet, bread, olives and a tomato was the newly recruited to the workshop Monou Fuma who up until now found the process of eating the center of his world that morning.

Fuma liked the carpentering workshop for two reasons: one is that he used it to get some exercise done lifting the heaviest boards and keeping his fitness after noting the gym was usually occupied with thugs too big even for his size and devilish mind.

The second reason for Fuma's liking of the carpentering workshop was the fact that he used its utilities to create a nice little set of knifes which he hid on his body and all across his room with expertise only an old jailbird such as he had.

The carpentering workshop also allowed him to befriend the shy and timid Kusanagi who, despite his immense body and powerful structure (even the thugs in the gym feared him and left him undisturbed whenever he walked in to get some work done), suffered from a terribly low confidence, from the suffocating prison walls and from the broken heart of being an (almost) innocent citizen suddenly thrown into this Bedlam, this Sodom.

Fuma offered himself as an apprentice to Kusanagi who, despite remembering Fuma coming with him in the same armored police bus, was led to believe that Fuma saw him as a more experienced prisoner and thus held him highly in his mind. Kusanagi was immediately flattered and allowed the man to breach his self-defensive shell of shyness and silence.

The shy friendship of Kusanagi's was a weapon for Fuma who, in his quicksilver-like mind, began plotting the ways in which Kusanagi's force can come to his aid in brawls or perhaps even in the slowly weaving escape plan.

That morning, as Fuma noticed the longing stare in his new 'best friend's' eyes, the anarchistic youth did not act out of this façade to be Kusanagi's friend.

As he turned around slightly to see whom Kusanagi hung such looks at and recognized the new and beautiful warden his head boiled with anger from reasons other then scheming.

Kamui was pretending to talk to Sgt. Arisugawa, smiling sweetly at him. The darting glances and charming smiles he shot at the stunned and much grateful Kusanagi were what the merry conversation was started for.

When the sergeant turned to talk to another warden about something Kamui raised his gentle arms high in the air and stretched fully, thus making the fabric of his shirt cling to his delicate slim frame and made Kusanagi's mouth water a bit.

When the mauve gems turned to the prisoner and gave him a well knowing smile Kusanagi's 'best friend' snapped.

Like a storm, like a charging dragon, Fuma shot towards the newbie to give him his 'baptizing'.

With his quick and skilled right wrist, its skin decorated by a spiky tribal tattoo, he pulled a long sharp knife from the back of his pants and ran it deep into Kamui's right shin.

The knife was so sharp, so long and Kamui's shin so slim, that the blade ran from one end to the other and became stuck into the concrete of the wall Kamui was knocked back at.

A sharp, high pitched, coarse scream of pain echoed through the somber hall where the winter's morning chill still frowned down upon those who occupied it.

Sgt. Arisugawa turned sharply, pulling his stunt gun instinctively and saw the young confident underling pinned to a wall by one knife, while witnessing the second pinning.

Leering over the small man's body, sniggering and glaring, Fuma pulled out a second long knife and pinned Kamui's left hand to the concrete.

Kamui screamed again, only this time his voice failed him, leaving him to hiss and cough blood.

"The prettiest warden in Shinzona, glaring and bitching at everyone," Fuma hissed into Kamui's neck as he licked the splattered blood drops from the delicate white neck. "See how almighty you are now bitch."

The electric blow from Sorata's shocker came seconds afterwards but not before Fuma left the two arches of his teeth marks into Kamui's delicate alabaster skin.

Fuma was caught, beaten, dragged, kicking and swearing, down to spend the next month in confinement.

As he was flung violently into his half glass, half iron cell a few good meters from Sakurazuka Seishiro's glass cage, Fuma managed to send a victorious snigger to his new neighbor who in return turned his eye carelessly back to the book he was reading.

With many grunts and swears, Fuma dragged his aching body to sit on the floor and began wiping the blood from his temple, his split lips and his arm where his own knife was accidentally used against him.

Then he threw his head back and laughed so powerfully he disturbed his neighbor and gained a calm "Do try to be quiet please" from the assassin.

Fuma glared at the regal man in his glass room.

Seishiro glared back and smiled sweetly.

Fuma scanned himself; he was shirtless as the item was used as a towel and a bandage for his wounds. He smiled and aimed a meaningful stare at the man with the neat suit and mysterious dark air.

Seishiro chuckled softly. "You have two missing teeth, your mouth is bloody and swollen, there's a large purple bruise almost completely closing one of your eyes and the rest of you is dirty and bloody, but still you think you can give me that 'come hither' look?" He chuckled once more. Venom dripping like acid. "Silly boy."

Fuma snarled; blood trickled from the edge of his lip. It made him turn his head in shame from his neighbor.

Kamui was rushed to the infirmary and spent the rest of the day there, a day he passed in complete silence, his eyes burning, his skin pale and his whole attire saying 'murder' and 'shame'.

It was obvious that this was by far the cruelest and harshest 'baptism' ceremony any warden in Sharonza's history ever went through.

His comrades and commanders gave him their mercy and praise for withstanding everything so bravely.

Kamui tried not to spit in their faces and yell at them that screaming out was not something he calls 'withstanding everything so bravely' and that right now he could happily use one of that damn devil's knifes to carry out seppuku.

As he recovered, his comrades could tell that the youthful man was secretly plotting a way to get back at the man who attacked him.

No one in Sharonza Heights prison, no, in the whole world loved Pr. Shiro Kamui more then Lt. Segawa Keiichi.

The young man of twenty one, hardly the wisest of men in the ways of life and the ones living it before his enrolment to police academy, despite the missing knowledge filled to the brim during his service, was a true hearted, kind, loving, innocent (as much as possible) cheerful young man.

He won his ranks due to loyalty and excellent service. Nobody around that prison, or in the other prisons where his academy buddies served, could say a single bad thing about him.

The big beautifully shaped mauve eyes, the perfect creamy alabaster skin and the soft raven locks so preciously framing Kamui's face like an artist' picture hit Keiichi like a bullet to the head (or heart in this case) and he fell, helpless and hopeless, at the delicate small feet of the prison's new recruit.

The short period in which the Lieutenant courted the private was a time of focused energy and blasts of hope with every move Keiichi made towards the breathtaking young man.

After an afternoon of careful calculation on the porch of his humble one room flat at the suburbs of the sleepy town nearest to Sharonza Heights, Kamui decided to take his third-in-command's offers on.

No one in Sharonza prison, no, in the whole world was the happiest as the brave lieutenant when Kamui blushingly agreed to go on a date with him, blushingly kissed him back goodnight, asked him up for coffee etc.

Quaking and blushing, sweating and mumbling, Lt. Segawa entered Cp. Aoki's office to confess his deeds with his underling, expecting to hear a long raving speech about how wrong it all was really.

The kind Captain, who was busy sorting out a clumsy anniversary gift for his wife (a fancy album with all their pictures from their first dates and up to their little girl's latest birthday party) merely smiled at him warmly, shook his hand along with a strong clap to his shoulder and wished him a happy relationship.

"So…you're not angry sir?" Keiichi apologized, stunned at this lightheadedness from his chief.

"Good heavens man no, why would I?"

"Uh…well…"

"Ah!" Seiichiro darted a suddenly sharp as pricks pair of eyes behind their slightly dusty enlarging lenses before retrieving the pair, dull now and mindless as before, back to the album. "You think I will scold you for choosing a man to court?"

Keiichi tried not to move a muscle might he topple himself down the bottomless pit on which's edge he placed himself by bringing the subject up in the first place.

"I think it's quite alright Keiichi-kun, if I may call you that because I kind of see you as a son…no, a cousin, like my cousin Daisuke, god bless his soul. Besides you're not the only one here I should think…if I'm not mistaken our other lieutenant is into the same business and I practically read the letters printed on Shiro's forehead that he's into it as well….no no no no dear boy, whatever makes you happy."

With that Cp. Aoki gave his second officer a look which meant 'please leave me alone; this damn task is doing my head in and I need every ounce of concentration to get it even halfway right. Please.'

Keiichi bowed, saluted (two things he hadn't done since his first day in the prison) and walked out of the office feeling a ton lighter.

To Pr. Kamui, Lt. Keiichi was nothing but convenient. When he needed to arrange himself a slightly saner shift time; he turned to the lovesick man. When he lost his personal teargas spray can and faced trial might he confess it; he turned (teary eyed and hysterical at first, then sweet and seductive once his will was carried out) to the poor infatuated officer.

He only thought about Keiichi once when the man kindly rejected his third seduction attempt claiming he wanted to deepen the relationship. Kamui shrugged after the entire five second of thought he spent on the matter and walked to his small flat's tiny refrigerator to fetch himself some beer forgetting all about it.

Lt. Segawa stared at Pr. Shiro now trying to make his mind up about the request his seemingly loving underling gave him.

"I don't know Kamui…it's kind of a dangerous shift…"

Kamui cocked his head sideways and made a tiny adorable frown to the bridge of his nose "But Keiiiiiiichiiiii," he cooed sweetly once away from the prisoners around them. "I'll have to do a shift like that eventually… why can't I do it today?"

"Why won't you have that first shift once…once…once…"

"Once Monou-bastard won't be there?"

"Once there will be less highly dangerous prisoners there is what I meant to say. I mean goodness Kamui." The back of his fingers ran along the smoothest of skins, reaching the silkiest and blackest of hairs at the side of the private's face. "Sakurazuka is enough of a menace, why must you have a shift there, and the first of that, when the devil who hurt you is there as well? Why, you've only just returned from your sick leave."

"Keiiichiiiiiiiiiii."

"Oh…but…"

"Keiiiiiiiiiichiiiiiiiiiii." A single delicate long white tiny hand reached out and landed on Keiichi's chest where his heart was. Two huge violet gems gazed up innocently, catching the simple neon lights above them and scattering them around the large irises in million tiny sparkling diamonds.

"Uh…okay…I guess…but Lt. Sumeragi will be upset because he got the work schedule of this week all planned out and…"

"Who is supposed to do that shift?"

"Well, me but…."

"Then we'll switch places, how much of a schedule disruption could that be?"

Keiichi hung his head and shrugged. He collected the fragile body into his arms and rained a few kisses on the silken sable locks.

Smugly, Kamui marched down into the basement floor and the High Security ward, his steps light and merry.

He discharged Corp. Tojo, threw a canceling gaze at the prisoner in the glass cage (who, despite himself, could not help hanging his seeing eyes on the wonderful features until his better behavior caught up with him) and ignored the other prisoner as he walked up to the hidden cabinet for emergency cases.

He opened the great steel locker, as black as his hair, as dark as Fuma's heart, as somber as Lt. Subaru's wondering mind, and took a moment of gasping awe to observe the treasures within it.

Oh how many toys Corp. Tojo gave Pr. Shiro as he finished his shift and left the locker's key in the younger warden's hands!

The black wonder box, twice Kamui's size in height and three times bigger in width, was brimful with toys made to hurt, disarm, injure, control and subdue a rebelling and/or raging prisoner.

Kamui licked his lips, his eyes darting here and there over shiny metal, warning signs, scolding safety procedures and glaring yellow 'may be toxic if digested' marks.

He giggled heartedly until the giggle became a full-fledged laughter luckily not reaching the ears of the ward's two prisoners with the divine help of miraculous counter-echoing in the room Kamui stood.

Honestly gasping, Kamui reached out two slim fingers and ran their tips (not without a great deal of awe and worship's quivering) down the long cold cylinder of a club.

A large grin spread like a lazy cat on his lips as he reached out the other hand. Like Arthur as he received Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake, Kamui dislodged the club from its hang.

With the club almost half his height in hand, Kamui walked back to the two calls, swinging the heavy metal rod as if it were an innocent walking stick.

Placing the club's edge on the floor under his two neatly placed palms at its butt, Kamui stood before Fuma's cell unleashing his worse of glares at the man inside.

Monou Fuma stood in the middle of his cell and stared down at the little man filled with great malice staring up at him.

Sakurazuka Seishiro stopped fooling himself by pretending to be beyond this small show of warden corruption and brutality, and observed the play before his eyes impatiently awaiting the next act.

He really wouldn't give a damn about such acts, but this play's unusual actors robbed him of his will to fight back his curiosity.

Corp. Tojo, as he handed command over the two prisoners to Pr. Shiro, also handed the young man a key to Fuma's cell.

Kamui used it now, slowly swinging the door open and stepping into the cell regally.

Fuma took a step back and launched a glaring attack at the new man in his domain.

Kamui took a step forward and snarled maliciously at the bigger man.

The vicious club shone electric blue under the neon light through the thick bulletproof glass of Fuma's fully shut cell door.

Kamui took another step forwards and the distance between them narrowed to but a few inches.

Fuma looked down at him with hell's fire in his eyes, preparing to attack or defend at the first sign of his opponent's next move.

Seishiro repressed a need to shout "Come on guys, do something already" at the two.

Fuma's arms shot forward, his back arched, his lips locking on Kamui's for a passionate and heart-consuming kiss.

They stayed locked like that for almost half an hour, burning away months of longing, need and love they've repressed during the time Kamui spent in police academy to become a warden and Fuma spent in court getting trialed on the way to become a prisoner.

After clawing their way out of the gutter where they grew as neighbors in the shadiest of Japan's slums, after forging a bond stronger then steel and diamond with acts of felony and bloodshed, after uniting in soul, mind and body on as many occasions as they could since their physical development allowed them to do so, long times of separation from each other took it's toll on their sanity.

Now they were gaining it back by taking what's theirs from each other as forcefully and passionately as possible.

Seishiro, who's mind was so consumed by the fascinating play before him, snapped back to fully comprehend something when he noticed an interesting detail:

The seemingly meaningless spiky tribal tattoos on each of Fuma's wrists joined together to a matching tattoo on Kamui's lower back as the bigger man grabbed the younger's naked behind in the heat of their acts.

Fuma's left wrist's tattoo made his wrists create an intricate tribal dragon when he brought them together, but only Kamui's body made the Black Dragon complete (3).

Unlike Kamui, Fuma remained loyal to his other-side-of-the-bars lover.

Despite many attempts from many fellow prisoners, both of the submissive type and the aggressive type, he did not get intimate with anyone but Kamui during his solitary confinement times.

He loathed any prisoner who glanced at Kamui with a bit of sexual interest and would often use his growing collection of knifes to inflict a terrible, often crippling, injuries on the offenders.

The only thing that kept him from murdering Lt. Segawa and hurling himself into life sentence was the opportunity to twist the brave officer's love into cooperation at escape's time.

He still loathed the man and glared fire at him whenever he could. He enjoyed jumping behind corners whenever the officer would patrol the ward and spook the man slightly.

Keiichi suspected nothing but a rather keen taste for sadistic pranks Fuma had, which he had.

Whenever he found an opportunity to gather something sharp or with the potential to become sharp enough to do harm he'd scoop it up, which often reduced him to rummage through garbage bins. His free time was almost completely consumed with the making of these knifes and small daggers. It earned him a reputation of a psycho and kept the troublemakers and warmongers off his back.

He tightened his bonds with any prisoner who gave him the impression of a hidden rebel or an easily controllable able-bodied thug.

Those would usually shun him or try to beat him up, encounters Fuma squeezed out of due to agility and resourcefulness only a streetwise, prison-wise man such as himself had.

His only ally was the baffled and much grateful Kusanagi who was rescued once from a heavy imprisoned Yakuza member's attack by Fuma. The anarchist claimed to have Kusanagi on his posse and immediately offered the gangsters a free doze of the latest narcotics Kamui smuggled him as a peace offering and a hint that if they hurt Kusanagi they'll bite the hand feeding them.

He won a second ally as Kigai Yutu walked into his cell one fine morning, but that is the stuff of another chapter.

Monou Fuma ended up in the basement floor on three other occasions:

One after he flipped a kitchen table to bury a prisoner who taunted him about the amount of hair gel he uses under it.

One after he was caught making a knife in the workshop (his fifth since the incident with Kamui which led to all his knifes confiscated) after which he was removed from the workshop to kitchen duties. It didn't stop his little one-man knife-making workshop, it only served to teach him how to avoid getting caught in Sharonza.

One after he was caught dealing light narcotics to fellow prisoners.

On the first of these three imprisonments Seishiro and Fuma ran a fluent dialog about the various details in young Fuma's criminal life (he seemed to have no other life but the ones of mischief and wrongdoing).

On the second Fuma used Sgt. Arisugawa's stomach disruption-induced long toilet break to amuse Seishiro with an act of full-fledged exhibitionism solo flight which the sorcerer regarded with the same careless eyes as before but clapped at the end of which.

On the third Fuma was far too busy observing the waif of a green-eyed lieutenant's conversation with his neighbor to do wrong.

After Lt. Sumeragi's shift came Kamui's and by then Fuma had formed a small plan.

"Oi, Sakurazuka-san."

"…."

"I said oi! Sakurazuka-san!"

"You are so eloquent my dear friend," the jailed sorcerer cooed at the young man over the rims of his plastic teacup.

"Yea yeah, whatever. Remember that thing you said about using magic do to crime and stuff, whatcha-call-it onm-what?"

"Onmyoujitsu…"

"Yeah, that…oh put some clothes on Kamui, I can't concentrate."

Kamui glared but hurried his shirt's buttoning smiling contently to himself.

"So…Sakurazuka-san, do you still remember any spells?"

Seishiro placed his teacup down on the glass table and straightened a powerfully testing gaze at the young prisoner.

"What kind of spells?" he asked once a powerful, resolved and meaningful gaze answered his stare.

"Something that can, say, break walls, just for example that is…"

Seishiro smiled widely, exposing his immaculately white teeth (the wonders of being forced to quit smoking does to one's nicotine-yellow fangs).

"There is a spell such as that. Only there are two problems with it."

"Problems? I don't like problems when I'm plotting an escape from prison."

Seishiro snickered; the young these days are so impatient. "The biggest problem is that I cannot show you the spell; I have to write it and," he turned around to gesture for his incompetent cell, "I have no means to do so."

"Why?"

"Because it's a symbol one must draw on the wall in need of ridding and I don't have a pen, pencil etc., nor paper to draw it for you."

Fuma mused for a while.

He turned to Kamui. "Ne, precious, copy the symbol down to a piece of paper for me will ya?"

Kamui smiled and nodded. He finished the last touches to bring his uniforms back to their former appearance and walked out of the cell.

He observed the trail Seishiro traced on the glass of his cell's wall and jotted it down on a piece of paper he fished from the warden's post's desk.

He repeated the process until Seishiro nodded at him that the symbol was perfectly copied.

"Theirs is a second problem Fuma-kun."

"Don't call me that. Thank you, precious." Fuma absorbed himself in the passionate kiss he used to thank his lover as the younger man handed him the paper with the symbol on it.

"Are you listening Fuma-kun?"

"Yes, I am now, what's the problem?"

"The symbol has to be made with blood, freshly drawn blood. The deeper the injury the blood was drawn from the stronger the spell. If the blood will be from a freshly killed virgin woman the spell will cause an explosion strong enough to knock down a few walls."

As he spoke Seishiro's voice was even and cool as icy wind, his gaze steady and emotionless, as if he was a teacher and Fuma a pupil in science class.

"Ah." Fuma's eyes glinted with bloodlust; his toothy grin dripping of an impatient need to do harm. "That is not a problem at all Sakurazuka-san."

Kamui reflected Fuma's smile.

(tbc)

(1) a habit stressed into newbie soldiers in the IDF once finishing basic training and/or the course of their specific service (like in my case) and in any other formal public ceremony. I put it in because it's a good way of getting the 'newbie' notion through….I think so anyways.

(2) another IDF tradition. Or is it a general disease within militaries wherever they'd be?

(3)yes I like writing about tattoos, yes I like it because I have a few of my own, no I do NOT like Zorin thank-you-very-much.