Why?
Because I am god. Because I can. Because I love you, Yuki.
You keep your eyes on the wall. Always, at least, away from me. Am I so terrible? My pliant rat, do you hate me so?
"Yuki," I begin, and try to brush my fingers under your chin. You don't respond, until you jerk away from my touch, turning all the way away from me. "That's not very nice."
"I don't need to be nice, Akito-sama." Is it really respectful, if you spit it out like that? You shouldn't be afraid of me, Yuki. You've done nothing wrong, this time.
"I want to you tell me about Honda Tohru." Oh, my pliant mouse, you looked stricken just then, as though I hadhurt you. Would that I had, you know. With you, it's always been more of a punishment-and-obedience ordeal. You always seem to reject my authority, but you know that I hold power. At a word, both you and that little witch could be locked up for a very, very long time in a small, quiet room.
"Why her, Akito-sama?" Ah-ha, so startled that you forget to hiss at my honorific? I see some progress has been made.
"You aren't the way you were before. No one is, after dealing with her, it seems. I want to know more about her." I try to reach out for you again, but you shoot to your feet.
"I'll not be your toy spy!" The shout echoes in the room, and I don't reply for a time. Eventually, I straighten, so short compared to you, did you know that? You've gotten so tall. Unlike with Kureno, I don't feel powerless. You'll always submit to me.
"Not spy, as such, no. What you will tell me, however, is why all of my juunishi that meet her immediately turn around with fallacious thoughts of identity and autonomy. Please, though, be succinct, for as I understand it, you must meet the haggard ogre in thirty minutes to collect her from her menial labor."
You take a swing at me, then. I catch your wrist easily, and brush my lips to your knuckles, if only because I know it offends you and I ordered you to wash before you came. You smell like fresh soil and garlic, Yuki, did you know? To think that you've been outside for so long.
There is a decided flush in your cheeks. Are you ill? Feverish? No, it's only a blush; either from rage, with which you've attempted another blocked strike; or another emotion, embarrassment at my actions, perhaps?
I push you against the wall, and hold you there. "Will you not tell me, then, my rat?" You shake your head defiantly, albeit timidly. I take one hand off of your left arm, and use it to raise your chin to lock your eyes with mine.
And I kiss you, remorselessly at first, and then more carefully, trying to know the new you that this Honda woman has made. Your lips are as soft; your tongue as slippery, as, at first, it tries to avoid mine; and you taste as sweet, like the peaches you used to beg me for when we were young.
You will always be my pliant rat, I suppose.
When I am finished, you struggle to breath out a question. I catch it, in the softest of submissive whispers.
"Why?" And I smile. Did no one understand, even you?
"Because I am god. Because I can. Because I love you, Yuki."
And I do. Still, I do. Even you, my pliant rat.