Chapter 27

Receive Your Fire

Akira let out a long groan as he awoke, rubbing his eyes. His head pounded as he forced himself up on the couch, his vision blurry and doubled. Ryuji was on the ground next to him, still fast asleep with his mouth hanging open as he laid on a small pillow in an uncomfortable, contorted position. It had certainly been a long night, but at least it was very fun.

Akira then remembered amidst the fog clouding his mind that he and Ann had nearly kissed before the girls left for their own room. A confusing range of emotions welled inside him, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Her half-lidded eyes as their lips came closer to each other, the shock and embarrassment when he pulled away, and the lingering question of what would have happened if he had went through with the kiss. Would it have been a big mistake? Would everything have been fine? He repeated these questions over and over in his head, staring off into space, until the door to Yusuke's room opened, diverting his attention.

Yusuke emerged from his room already dressed in proper attire, straightening his lapel as he noticed Akira. "Good morning," he said quietly to not wake Ryuji. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"More or less," Akira stood to his feet, rubbing his aching shoulders. "What time is it? You're already dressed."

"It is just before seven in the morning. I was called to an appointment moments ago, and your presence was requested as well."

"Who wants to see me this early? And why?"

Yusuke looked off to his side, his face tensing. "Just get your clothes on, please. You will see soon."

"Um, okay," Akira shrugged. "Should I get Ryuji up?"

"No need. You are the only other one here expected to attend this meeting."

"Sounds suspicious."

"I assure you," Yusuke said with slight but apparent ferventness, "this is of importance, Akira."

Taking the hint, Akira got freshened up and dressed, then followed Yusuke out into the cool morning air. They were escorted to the back of the property by two handmaids and two yakuza, and then came across a small but elegant house. "This is my grandfather's abode," Yusuke explained. "He is expecting us."

"He wanted to see me?"

"He was unable to greet you last night, so he intends to make up for it this morning."

"And there was no other time we could have done this?"

"It appears not," said Yusuke curtly, and they entered the building.

It was quiet and warm, with classically designed furniture and ornaments adorning the walls and shelves, the price of which Akira shuddered to estimate. A distinct theme color pallet of deep, royal blues was on display throughout the abode, leading down a wide hall to the master bedroom. The yakuza and handmaids bowed to the young men as they entered the bedroom, and the first thing Akira noticed rounding the corner was the hospital bed and attached medical equipment.

A nurse was helping a balding old man with a thin white beard eat a breakfast of mashed fruit. He was hooked up to multiple medical instruments, with tubes stringing from his arms and chest to the beeping equipment. He breathed slowly and deeply, and his movements were labored as he ate the soupy food. Finishing a bite, he turned his head to the young men, and Yusuke immediately bowed. "Grandfather," he said, "good morning. I hope the day finds you well." Akira followed his example with a bow.

The old man leaned back onto the pillows and nodded to them as they stood up. In a low, coarse voice, he said, "I apologize for missing the excitement last night. I was indisposed."

"There is nothing to apologize for, sir," said Yusuke quickly. "You need your rest."

The old man coughed, and the nurse stepped in to try and help him but was shooed away. "Did you…" he caught his breath. "Did you get to show your guests your art, Yusuke?"

"I did."

Akira added, "And we were very impressed."

The old man nodded with a tiny smile. "That's good. I'm glad you enjoyed your evening." He looked to Akira. "I am Daijiro Kitagawa, patriarch of the Kitagawa Family. And if Sakura has not been feeding me lies the past month, then I would guess that you are Kurusu?"

"That's right," Akira nodded. "I guess you know my parents?"

"I knew your mother better than I knew your father, but yes. Hell, your mother learned much of what she knows about fighting here in my home. I watched her grow into a strong fighter since shortly after she could walk." Daijiro nodded again, smiling nostalgically. "She really was gifted, boy. And I hear you take after her in more than just your looks."

"I've been told that," Akira replied flatly.

Yusuke said, "You seem better today, Grandfather."

"Physically, yes. Mentally, no, Yusuke," he shook his head. "War is upon us once again, if you have not heard."

"We have," Yusuke replied. "It is very troubling."

"Indeed. But I did not call you here to trouble you with that. I wanted to see, with my own eyes while I can, that the Dragons have returned to Kamurocho." His eyes focused on Akira, who became hesitant at the attention. "Akira, the Sakura Clan was protected by the Dragons since its inception. It is a title held only by a single bloodline. And perhaps it is fate, or simply coincidence, that everything started falling apart shortly after the Dragons departed from our Clan. I admit, I was losing hope, until I heard about you. Anri's own son, the Dragons themselves, returning to us in our time of need, just as it was in the old days."

"I'm afraid I'm no Dragon, sir," Akira shook his head. "I don't even really know what that means. I won't be sticking around after the city is safe, actually. I know my family has strong ties to your Clan, but I want no part in this life. I've already had quite enough of it."

"I am aware of that as well," Daijiro nodded. "You are no yakuza, as you claim, but yet you are still here, helping us. My grandson has even taken quite a liking to you in the short time you've known each other."

Akira and Yusuke exchanged looks. "He is a remarkable fighter," said Yusuke. "And a good man as well. It is an honor to stand at his side."

"Always so proper," said Daijiro with a smirk. "Even your mother wasn't quite that uptight."

"I apologize," said Yusuke sheepishly.

"And I apologize for making you think I was disapproving of your personality, Yusuke," Daijiro coughed lightly in his throat. "You know I have never thought less of you for that."

"I know, I just, uh," Yusuke stammered, then held his tongue.

"Akira," said Daijiro, "you will be of great importance to us in the coming hours. You and all your friends. Just know that no matter what you do after the fight is over, wherever you go, that seeing you stand with us has made put poor, sick old man's mind… at ease."

Akira stood up straighter. "I hope for your recovery, sir," he said slowly. "And that we can keep you and your home safe."

"Do not bother yourself with my well-being, either of you," the old man said more sternly. "See that all of you survive the coming battle, should it come to such dire straits. And Yusuke," Daijiro held out his hand, which Yusuke nervously took, "this is your home," the man nearly whispered. "This place, and all that is in it, is your birthright, as it was for your mother. Please see that you can still inherit it in all its beauty one day."

"Grandfather…" Yusuke's voice quivered. "Do not speak in such a way. The doctors will find a cure for your illness! If I am to bury you, it will not be for years—"

"Yusuke," Daijiro cut him off, "go. Be with your friends. And prepare. See to it that the Kitagawa family lives on in this house for at least one more generation."

A tear stung Yusuke's eye before he got to his feet and bowed. "I swear it, Grandfather," he muttered quitter than he had intended. "Your home will be preserved in all its beauty, come any force that may see it tarnished."

"Our home, boy. Mine, yours, and your mother's." He coughed again, and again, turning his face away from the younger men. "Go, boys," he said. "I need rest."

"Yes, sir," said Yusuke without hesitation. He turned to Akira, indicating for them to leave. Akira saw that Yusuke's eyes were reddening.

"It was an honor meeting you, sir," Akira said respectfully. "I hope you feel better." And so, they left.

Yusuke said not a word before exiting the house. He sighed and rubbed his forehead stressfully. "I am sorry you had to see that, Akira," he said quickly.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I… don't know," Yusuke admitted. "Honestly, I can hardly think at this moment."

"Are you alright? Your grandfather seems like he's in good spirits, at least."

"But whether it is genuine or an act, I do not know," Yusuke looked back to the house, then to Akira. "He has been in poor health for a few years now, but the illness has been progressing faster in the past year."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Lung cancer, it seems. The progression was slow until more recently, as I said. For the past few months, he has barely left his bedroom. In the past month, he hardly gets up from his bed."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Akira softly. "You seem like you're very important to each other."

"He is the only family I have left," said Yusuke, staring off into the distance. "My mother died when I was very young, and I was sent off to apprentice under a famous artist due to my budding talent instilled in me by my mother. Do you know of Madarame-sama?"

"I'm not much for the arts, honestly."

"Well, he was an exceedingly adept and charismatic artist, famed for his skill in many styles of painting. The artistic community viewed him as a renaissance man of the painted arts. My mother knew him from her days in the art world, since she too wanted nothing to do with the yakuza. Madarame taught her much of what she knew, and she was an extremely accomplished artist in her ows right."

"Sounds like quite the teacher. I can see where you got the skills you have."

"Then you'd be wrong," Yusuke replied with a harshness to his voice, which he promptly cursed himself for. "I'm sorry, Akira. You did not deserve that. It's just a painful memory."

"Didn't sound it like when you were explaining it."

"Because I had not told you that Madarame, my sensei, my adopted father, was a fraud."

"What?"

"He was a plagiarist, stealing ideas, stylings, and even entire works from his apprentices, with only himself profiting from it. He preached of piety and complete personal dedication to the arts while entertaining many mistresses and a double life of lavish luxury. He even drove a student before me to suicide when Madarame stole his life's work and took all the credit."

Akira was unable to think of anything apt to reply with.

"I found this out fairly early in my tenure as his pupil," Yusuke continued, his face expressionless and his eyes blank. "But I went on in willful ignorance, ignoring the deceit he so easily spewed out to the paparazzi. Many of my works were taken by him as 'repayment' for housing and teaching me. He argued that, since he was taking care of me and taught me everything I knew – which was another lie – that it was his right to take those paintings for himself."

"Oh…"

"Finally, I left when I was sixteen. I found out that Madarame's supposed magnum opus, the Sayuri, a painting of a beautiful and mysterious woman, was actually my mother's work, which he stole from her and claimed as his own whilst excommunicating her from the artistic community. He publicly shamed and slandered her as well, and this eventually led to her falling into deep depression which contributed to her death at only twenty-seven."

"Oh god. Did you get to exact any kind of justice against him?"

"I informed my grandfather of his travesties, and two weeks later, Madarame took an 'extended leave of absence' from the artistic community. I've heard nothing about him since. He may be dead," said Yusuke plainly, "he might be hiding out with another mistress. I don't know, and at this point, I really don't care."

"At least you're with a better sensei now, right?"

"Utabori-sensei is one of the finest men I've ever met," Yusuke replied. "He even wants me to carry on his name and style one day. I've… thought about it, though haven't made a decision yet. There's still plenty in my life I'm trying to figure out."

"At least the door is open for you," said Akira. "And I'm really sorry all that happened to you."

"Had it not, I would not have met Vincent and Catherine, or any of you. So, while it was absolutely heartbreaking on many levels, there was some good that came from it at least. I guess that's all we can hope for in the midst of our suffering."

"That's very wise of you."

Yusuke chuckled, but there was no amusement in it. "I am far from a wise man, my friend. Far, far from it. The only reason I'm not living as a starving artist is because my grandfather is one of the wealthiest and best-connected men in Tokyo and can afford to keep me on my feet when I trip up."

"But you wouldn't be as successful as you are if there was no real talent or effort in your endeavors," Akira replied quickly, confidently. "I've seen your art and heard your music. Everyone said you were amazing last night, and that wasn't just the weed or stress talking. You're incredible, man," Akira gave him a light smile. "Don't devalue the effort you've put in already just because not everything worked out like you thought it would."

Yusuke nodded, looking to the ground. The grass waved and flowed in the gentle breeze, and two birds called to each other somewhere behind them. Yusuke closed his eyes, enjoying the sudden, almost alien peace of the nature that surrounded them. For a brief moment, there was no war upsetting their lives, nor even a word being carried along the crisp morning air. There was simply sunshine, a light breeze, some passing clouds, and a few birds perching in the trees around the estate. "You call me a wise man," Yusuke continued slowly, "but I think it is you who has imparted the most wisdom today."

"Well, I had a good teacher," Akira nodded, watching a could birds fly off from one of the trees. "And nothing I said was complex or revolutionary. You just sometimes need an outside perspective to tell you what's right. It might be obvious to another person, but not yourself since you're the one that's going through all of it. Or at least, that's what my dad always says."

"Then perhaps it is your father who truly is the wiseman here," Yusuke chuckled, this time with some genuine amusement.

"Perhaps," Akira nodded. "But hey, at least he taught me how to help people when they need it."

"And… it is appreciated," Yusuke said slowly. "Now, we probably should get going, see if everyone is awake. We have a long day ahead of us, do we not?" Yusuke took one last look back at his grandfather's house and saw Aizawa giving a package to one of the nurses. He hoped the medicines would actually work this time, and that they all would live to see this war through.

Everyone was awake and had been wondering as to where Akira and Yusuke had been. They explained what was going on, and their friends became noticeably more anxious. Their anxiety grew all the more when Akira was summoned once again, but this time by Sojiro himself, and was instructed to come alone. With ample resignation and open contempt, he did so, joining Sakura in the meeting hall. To Akira's surprise, the old man was alone, looking out the window with his hands behind his back.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Sojiro asked nonchalantly.

"I guess," replied Akira. "Maybe it's a good omen."

"I thought the same, but I didn't ask you here to read the winds, see if they are in our favor." Sojiro turned to him, and Akira saw that the legendary "Boss" was very, very tired, almost weak and frail looking. "I have a gift for you, actually."

"A gift?"

"Well, more of an extended loan, I suppose. You see," he walked toward Akira, "I've been holding a special heirloom of your family's in this estate for safe keeping, meaning to give it back to your mother if she ever returned to Kamurocho. But since I got, well, the next best thing, I figured you might get some extra use out of it in our… time of need. Tell me, Akira, are you trained in swordsmanship?"

Akira paused at both the randomness of the question and the surprisingly warm and casual tone with which Sojiro spoke. "Well, my mom did teach me quite a bit, but I've never even held a real sword. I've only used wooden or dulled steel ones, more like clubs than anything else."

"But you do know how to wield a weapon, right?"

"I do, but I don't know if I'm good enough to do anything with it. And I'm not here to kill anyone for you."

"Well, I'd be remised not to at least let you see your heirloom for yourself," Sojiro said, seemingly ignoring Akira's objections. "Will you come with me?"

"Do I have a choice?" asked Akira, his tone becoming much more annoyed.

To his surprise, Sojiro responded plainly, "Yes, you do. I'm not going to force you if you don't."

"You're… not?"

"No, I won't," Sojiro shook his head then sighed. "I know you hate me, kid. I know I've been vague with you at the best of times. But I want you to know that everything I do is because I have endless respect for your family, and you by extension. Also, Takemi told me about how you helped my granddaughter last night. Something I unfortunately have just sucked at the past couple years," Sojiro chuckled sadly. "You making her happy last night has further cemented my promise that you can go home after the town is secured. But before that, I wanted to at least give you the opportunity to see one of your family's prized possessions, since I'm certain your mother will never come back to pick it up herself. This isn't about killing anyone, it's a show of good will from my family to yours."

Akira pondered the proposition for a moment. "I guess I can see it," he acquiesced. "Where is it?"

"Follow me, it's just down the hall." They walked down the hallway toward a set of double metal doors. A large lock was in the middle of it which Sojiro unlocked with a keycard he produced from his jacket pocket. The doors swung open inwardly, and before them was many treasures of many years from many nations. Paintings, weapons, armors, musical instruments all arranged along great red and golden walls. And at the end of the room was a large mural of Sojiro, a beautiful woman at his side, and a young woman with the same black hair as her presumed parents, cut short and showing off a pair of glasses. "Welcome to my private collection," said Sojiro as they entered. "Please don't touch anything."

"What is all this?" asked Akira.

"Trinkets, trophies, anything of especially significant value I've collected over the years. Your heirloom is right over—"

"Are they your family?" interrupted Akira, pointing to the mural.

Sojiro's jaw tightened at the anticipated but yet painful question. "Yes," he admitted. "That's my family. Or rather, was."

"Your wife and daughter, I guess? So, that girl is Futaba's mother?"

"That's right. Her name was Wakaba. My wife, the woman standing above her, is Yayoi. Truly a… remarkable person. The most incredible woman I'd ever met."

"She's beautiful," Akira said. "Did my mother know them?"

"Know them?" Sojiro repeated with a sad smile. "Wakaba and your mother were closer than most siblings. My daughter was the little sister Anri never had. She even referred to your grandparents as her aunt and uncle."

"Wow," Akira muttered. "What were they like? Your wife and daughter?"

"Yayoi was a fountain of kindness when I wasn't," Sojiro said slowly. "And Wakaba was many times more intelligent than I could ever hope to be. When everyone around her was taking oaths of fealty and allegiance to my clan, she was neck deep in the sciences, studying everything she possibly could. She was a genius if ever there was one. She and your mother were an odd duo for that, what with Wakaba being such an intellectual and Anri having the fighting spirit of ten men. But like I said, they were inseparable since Wakaba was born. It was very sweet to watch them grow up together."

Akira studied the mural for another moment, and a heavy air of sadness and pain throughout the room became painfully known to him. "I'm sorry for your loss," Akira said quietly.

Sojiro was the one to take pause this time. "I never even told you what happened to them."

"But you still lost them, yes?"

Sojiro looked to the mural as well for a long moment. "Yeah," he finally said. "I lost them both, as well as almost everyone else I called 'family'. And I don't mean the Sakura Family, you see. I mean real, honest to God family. I have people I care about and trust, sure, but in terms of those that were truly irreplaceable, I've lost almost all of them. Futaba is really the only thing I have left."

"Do you… feel responsible for any of it?"

Sojiro met his gaze, and there was a quiet, elusive agony in his eyes. "I am responsible," he muttered. "For almost all of it." Sojiro looked to their side, to a table with a large box covered by a blue cloth with gold trimmings. "And that's why I want you to have this." He approached the box and removed the cloth in a swift motion, revealing a long, black box with an inscription etched into the top, reading "あなたの火を受け取る [Receive Your Fire]".

"Our families' swords were forged at the same time, high in the mountains," Sojiro explained. "Though mine was the only one to shed blood. Your grandfather knew that sometimes people had to die to protect the people we love most, but he still never slew another person with this sword, since he believed that taking a life was the ultimate last resort, regardless of who it was. Maybe the Kami were watching out for him his whole life, since no matter how many times he fought, he was only forced to end a life at the very, very end, and not by the blade."

Sojiro lifted up the lid of the box slowly, and Akira was taken in by the revealing of an immaculate sword before him. Its sheath was black like the finest ink, with a bar of crimson traveling up to the tip from the hilt, which was wrapped in fine blackened leather around a deep red pommel. "Pick it up, if you wish," Sojiro told him. "It's your sword, not mine. And I swore never to wield it in times of conflict, for that was your family's honor alone."

Akira slowly reached out for it, lifting it from the box. The weight was sturdy but light, and it seemed to travel through the air effortlessly, as if it immediately became a part of his own body rather than being simply an ornate object. He stepped into the middle of the room, a sense of awe and importance overtaking him as he shifted the sword in his hand, until finally, he removed the sheath with his left hand and looked upon the blade itself.

His face was reflected in the steal, shining as if it had been forged only a day ago, and written on the blade were the characters "反乱". "Hanran," Akira whispered. "Rebellion…"

"That's the name that the smith and sword master Fujiki gave it the day it was forged. The same master that taught your grandfather and I the art of the blade when we were both very young. A hardened and traditional man if ever there was one, but his craft in both swordsmanship and smithing was unmatched before he passed away. In fact, that was the sword was the last piece he ever forged before laying down his tools to pass on quietly a few months later."

"It's… incredible. But… why is it called 'Rebellion'?"

"Fujiki never named his weapons until they were finished, ready to be given to their recipients. He said that within your grandfather, and he prophesied the same for your whole family line, was a 'fire of rebellion against fate itself'. He said that your grandfather had the power to challenge any and all fates lain before him, but not in some kind of strange magic. By 'Rebellion', I always thought he was referring to willpower. But then again, I didn't make the damn thing, so I can't say for sure."

Akira nodded, never taking his eyes off the blade, studying his clear reflection in the steel. "Mom always said something similar about will," he said. "That it's willpower that makes a truly great fighter, not just technique. That sounds…" he tightened his grip on the blade, as if some small power was emanating from within it, "right."

"I never paid much attention to prophecies myself," Sojiro continued, "but I've seen some pretty supernatural things in my years. Maybe Fujiki was right, or maybe his pipeweed was too strong that morning, but I've always known your family to survive on their exceptional willpower and drive to protect others. That's why we called them 'Dragons', kid."

Akira nodded, then flipped the sword over in his hand deftly and sheathed it in a fluid motion. It clicked quietly against the pommel, and Akira let out a deep breath. "I will not kill anyone, Sojiro," he said slowly, strongly. "I will not kill anyone ever again. But this… is a beautiful gift. Thank you for saving it for my family." He turned to the old man, and Sojiro's noticed he seemed much surer of himself, a tiny spark of the first dragon's legendary fire alight in his eyes. "I'll see your family safe at the end of this," Akira declared. "And one day, I'll come back for this blade myself, with my mother. In a time of peace."

Rubbing his tired eyes, Daigo entered the gaudy luxury suite with his bodyguards. Two maids held the door open for him, bowing as he entered, though he paid them no mind. Before him, at a large dining table, was the illusive Masayoshi Shido himself, with a tall man in a black trench coat and opaque sunglasses standing behind him. "Welcome, Sugiwara-san," said Shido eloquently. "I am extremely thankful you were able to come out here on such short notice."

"And I am extremely thankful that you provided a limo for us," Daigo replied, taking a seat opposite Shido. "My previous vehicle was unceremoniously wrecked, if you haven't heard."

"Oh, I'm very aware," Shido nodded. "In fact, to no surprise at all, I'm sure, the subject of this meeting is related to your most recent incident with the Sakura Clan."

"I figured," said Daigo. "It was quite the embarrassment to be upstaged so thoroughly by that worthless riffraff. They stole my fiancé from me, for Christ's sake! I admit, Shido-san, I am rather beside myself at the moment. I know we have not spoken in person in a while, but I must say that I am not exactly clear on where your 'grand plan' is headed."

"Has it caused a bit of a lapse in faith for you?"

"It would be more accurate to say it has roused some reservations in me."

"Then I shall avail you of all such 'reservations'," Shido replied confidently, his signature exceptionally Machiavellian grin creeping to his face. "For you see, I wish to position you in a far more advantageous place on the chessboard we have created the past few months."

"How do you mean?" Daigo let his new intrigue be written all over his face.

"A time of reckoning is upon us, young sir, as you are no doubt aware. And I have found myself in the distinct position of requiring a… fallback, should the need arise in the near future."

"That doesn't sound as glamorous as you led on, sir."

"Oh, but it definitely is, Sugiwara," Shido said slowly with a snake-like smile. "It turns out that your future father-in-law's usefulness has come somewhat into question in light of recent events. He is an ambitious man, which has served us well until now, but I need to look to more sustainable prospects in the future. When the pieces are all in place," he leaned forward in his chair, "and when the final stages of the war come to light, I will need no less than absolute certainty that all related parties will follow the best course of action for all of us, Sugiwara."

"And you don't trust Okumura-san to follow your script?" Daigo raised an eyebrow.

"I believe that he will become a rogue element if given enough time and external incentive," Shido explained. "He dreams of a utopia, yes?"

"It's all he can talk about, really," Daigo chuckled, thinking on the many agonizing speeches he had been forced to endure with a smile since this engagement was forced upon him. "The man is obsessed with the abstract subject, I assure you."

"'Abstract' is an excellent way to describe it," Shido nodded. "He's a man of big goals and wishes for nothing more than to them through, even when it isn't exactly logical to do so. I, however, am a much more pragmatic and practical man, and I need someone of the same disposition in my corner when our alliance inevitably is on the cusp of victory."

Daigo became even more intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

"When we deem Okumura-san to have… completed his tenure with us," Shido said slowly, "we want you in position to take over his responsibilities entirely."

"What?" Daigo smiled vilely.

"We, being my benefactors and I, are going to see you, Sugiwara, on the Okumura throne."

With a full, toothy smile, Daigo leaned back in his chair, nodding. "I am honored at the consideration, sir," he flattered Shido. "But what do you require of me in the meantime? I cannot simply sit on my ass and watch all the fireworks from the sidelines and reap the rewards all the same."

"Your time to act will come soon, my friend," Shido smiled. "And, as a token of good will from my group to yours, I have prepared a sort of down payment for you, should you accept my proposal."

"What is it?"

"First, this luxurious suite for the night. And second," Shido snapped his fingers in the air, and the bodyguard wearing sunglasses walked to the doorway on the far left of the room. Opening the door, he silently beckoned someone out, and then before the group was three scared but dazed women wearing only lacey lingerie on their thin bodies. "Your company for the evening," Shido smirked, "if they are to your liking." He pointed to the first in line, saying, "Brazilian," then, "American," then, "Chinese. I assumed you may have had your fill of Japanese women by now, so I took the liberty of collecting a more exotic menu for you, and any other guests you may invite."

Daigo licked his lips hungrily, waggling his eyebrows at the blond American girl, who looked away in fear. "But Shido, my good sir," he joked, "I am engaged!"

"And I know you don't give a fuck," Shido chuckled low in his throat. "Now, do we have an accord? Will you sit atop the Okumura Empire's throne when it is empty and in need of leadership?"

Daigo looked the girls over again, chuckling to himself as he thought of the many, many things they may get up to that night. "Will they be… difficult?"

"We took measures to ensure they would not be. You have nothing to worry about."

Daigo nodded and locked lustful, hideous eyes with Shido. "Where do I sign?"

[I apologize for the delay. I just graduated college and have been extremely busy with work, as well as starting work on an original novel. Additionally, as I look at how far we have come with this story, and the fact that it is less than half done so far, I find the motivation to continue with expediency… illusive. Your comments and rates are always appreciated, however, and thank you for your continued support. I cannot wait to hear what you think about the story as we reach the end of Part 2, and hope that one day, you will see my name on the shelves in your local bookstore. Thank you once again for reading.]