Many thanks to those who reviewed the previous version of this chapter. You were all very kind, and yet you made me realise just how much I had lost direction! This chapter and all its senru is dedicated with much gratitude to Orangesandlemons and Irrelevancy. I hope it makes up for the previous version, haha.

A Romeo and Juliet Story

Chapter 6

The file landed on the table lightly. It was not particularly large, and it didn't result in anything like the satisfying puff of dust one might hope it would. Kaede stared at it with an intensity bordering on challenge.

They called this place the Library and yet it was more like a warehouse, with impersonal and cold metal filing cabinets stretching down so many identical, silent rows. Being in the basement there were no windows and no natural light. Sterile metal lamps hung from the ceiling low over the charmless tables.

On this sunny, quiet Sunday, the place was empty apart from the lone boy.

Kaede sat himself at one of the tables with the file in front of him and hesitated.

The Rukawa Library was not to be underestimated. While it contained scant few books, it was a complete catalogue of every transaction, purchase, sale, investment, meeting, staff, person, and family matter that had been or occurred since records began more than two hundred years ago.

The file Kaede had picked up was a personal profile. Everyone who had any connection with the Rukawa family had one. Even Kaede himself had a record that listed his biography, personality, achievements and failures here somewhere in this metal maze. It was all saved meticulously in case, generations later, the information was needed. As if Hisashi's great-grandchildren might want to read about their reclusive and ill-reputed great uncle. The thought was laughable.

He examined the cover of the file. A complex tree of categories was drawn, which enabled this precise profile to be pin-pointed within this veritable mountain of papers. The first and broadest category was "personal profiles", followed by "family: Sendoh", "20th century", and finally "inheriting (core)".

Below the category tree were the details unique to the file. A 10-digit code, a name in three characters "Sendoh Akira", and a space for three dates only the first of which was filled.

Curious, perhaps, to have three dates instead of the usual two, but Kaede knew what they signified.

The last one was of course reserved for the date of death. It was an unpleasant blank glowering at the world obnoxiously, waiting only for the inescapable stain of death to be carved in black marker pen, something which chased every single one of life's temporary passers-by; be they Sendoh, Rukawa or otherwise.

The middle gap in-between the birth and death dates would signify the day yet to come when the old Sendoh would die and Akira would become the head of his house.

Kaede pressed his palm to that blank space and closed his eyes, trying to envision the future. What cloudbursts might happen between now and the day that space was filled? Was it a year away, or ten years, or even twenty? Where would Kaede be that day? Would he be standing beside his father, or would Hisashi already have inherited the house? Or – and the alien thought suddenly reared out of nowhere - could Kaede perhaps be head of the family instead?

Something long-forgotten moved uncomfortably inside him at that extraordinary thought. Sly, cat-like ambition flicked a lazy ear somewhere behind his stomach and set her green eyes upon him. She smiled and he was all at once clenched by a singular apparition which bust into existence like an eruption in the former quiet of his mind. It was an odd visualization where Akira and he stood in perfect parallel, as mirrors. He could see it as clearly as if it were a photograph in front of him, or a portrait on canvas in his hands.

He was a Rukawa. That was his life. He breathed it, lived it, and it had shaped him. And yet… he was all at once no longer enough. That is to say: in comparison to Akira, he was no longer enough.

To be his equal rather than just a jester playing around at the feet of the throne. To be more than a dog kicked under the heels of his father and brother. To be his counterpart and, in turn, to have his respect, maybe even his awe. That was what he saw in his mind. A tantalising fantasy.

With a sudden start he jerked his body back, away from the file, snatching his palm away as if it had been burned. His eyes shot open in horror at the opening like a window that had just been punched in his mind. Eight years. It must have been eight years since he'd last felt anything like this.

In an immediate, protective response he felt his mind mentally push everything away, those desires, those ambitions, back through the crack in the seal, resetting the barricades around his exhausted sanity. It wouldn't serve any purpose for him to crumble here and now, not after surviving for so long.

He looked down once again at the three characters which formed 'Sendoh Akira' on the front of the file and cursed the boy whose name it was silently. What was happening to him? Why did that name threaten him in a way like nothing had ever done? He already felt as though he was clinging to the edge of a great drop, and the name was like a boot descending to crush his fingers.

Dangerous. So dangerous.

The file on the table did nothing extraordinary, although Kaede was staring at it with suspicion as if there were magic or trickery involved. It was closed innocently. He didn't really have to open it; he was only here out of curiosity. Most of the information inside would probably be biased or inaccurate anyway - they hadn't been able to get a mole into the Sendoh inner circles for some time.

The best thing to do was to put it back and leave. Leave and not think about that kiss ever again. Try to forget those lips against his own which had been like needles jabbed into his soul.

He flipped the file open.

The first page was a contents page which promised information on a bewildering list of biographical events none of which held any meaning for Kaede. The following hundred or so pages were almost entirely solid text. Since he didn't have the first idea where to start, or truth be told, even what he was looking for; he went instead to the very last section, the photograph appendix. The pictures ought to be able to give information faster than trying to read through the intimidating writing. He settled his thoughts, tried his best to rein in his straining curiosity, and took his first look into a different world.

The first photo was a simple profile shot stolen, it seemed, when Akira had been turning back to say something to whoever was behind him. His lips were parted and smiling and his eyes were bright with good-humour. Such a simple image made Kaede pause. Seeing that casual expression made the memory come back to him in a rush: the loss of control, the trembling of his hands, the sound of his heart in his ears, the cool metal on his skin and the hot mouth against his own.

He flipped the picture over quickly, determinedly suppressing the recollection, not allowing himself to dwell on it for more than a moment.

The next was one of Akira and Hanamichi together. The date stamp told him that it was only half a year old. The two of them looked happy together, seated in a casual restaurant. Hanamichi had a half-empty beer bottle in one hand and appeared to be laughing loudly. Akira was looking at him with fond amusement. Another boy was half visible on Hanamichi's other side, turned towards the red head smilingly.

Trying to imagine himself with Hisashi in such a commonplace family setting was bordering on farce, so Kaede flipped that picture over quickly too.

The next one was a little different. It showed a stretch of beach and the sea beyond, empty except for a small figure facing the waves, looking away from the camera. It might really have been anyone standing there, but the unique hairstyle coupled with the brief footnote assured him that it was Sendoh Akira. Kaede found himself wondering whether that concealed face was still rotting with that theatrical smile or had it, in solitude, formed a different attitude?

Feeling himself strangely drawn to the image and with his curiosity piqued he checked the reference and turned to the page that it concerned. His critical eye glanced quickly over the words, picking out one section;

…the Miura Peninsula, south of Yokohama. Miura Beach, particularly on Sundays...

"Research?" The sudden voice sounded unusually loud in the quiet of the library.

Kaede looked up thoroughly startled and saw the glimmer of friendly amusement in the new-comer's eyes.

Kogure Kiminobu was leaning against one of the cabinets close to the stairs which led back up to the house, his arms folded in an idle and untroubled posture, watching him. Seeing who it was, Kaede relaxed, and Kogure returned his gaze with an easy smile of greeting.

Kogure's presence had always been something Kaede had treasured, but for some unidentified reason he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at the interruption. He wanted to just pursue his reading in peace which, given his affection for his sempai, was strikingly abnormal.

Unaware of any of Kaede's odd thoughts, Kogure approached him where he sat at the table with complete ease.

"This is unusual for you" he commented. His voice wasn't accusatory and Kaede wasn't unduly concerned. He trusted Kogure absolutely, and didn't need to hide his recent dealings with Akira from him. In fact Kogure was the only person in the world to whom Kaede would have willingly confided the entire story. Even the kissing part.

This hardly seemed the time for a lengthy introduction to the situation however, so he replied with a brief and dismissive "the job is complex", before returning intently to his reading.

"Oh." Kogure slid into the chair opposite from him and rested his chin on his hands. He took in the unusual sight of Kaede seemingly interested in something and he smiled. It was not often that Kaede showed curiosity in anything, most of the time he seemed too distant to care. Kogure noticed the slightly tense muscles of the reading face, and the way the fingers pressed the paper firmly down against the table as if the whole thing might fly away any moment. It was almost endearing to see Kaede so unmindful of everything around him, focussed with all his attention on those words which were offering him information on… what? Kogure didn't feel any need to look. Instead he merely contemplated the boy's posture for a while longer before speaking his observation;

"You look like you're looking for answers, without knowing the question."

Kaede lifted his eyes to look across the table at Kogure once again, his fringe partly obscuring his sharp stare.

He was all at once struck with the enormity of his own helpless confusion. He had no idea what he was looking for, or what he was even doing. His thoroughly mixed perceptions of Akira were a constant source of torment to him and he sought distraction by trying to learn more about the cause of the irritation, as if the sensation could be rationalised by Akira's history.

The recollection of allowing himself to be caught up in that ridiculous game of trust appalled him now. Whatever faulty reasoning he had used to convince himself to do it at the time no longer made sense to him. A way to escape? A way to move forward? What on earth had made him believe that a friendship with that weird Sendoh kid could achieve any such thing? He knew full well that the accumulation of sin which followed his subconscious like the pack on the heels of the herd would not be eluded. And yet…

Seeing the troubled expression flicker on Kaede's features, Kogure rose from his seat and went around to his side of the table. Kaede wasn't aware of his movement until he felt the gentle, delicate fingers entwining themselves in his hair, working their way down to massage his scalp fondly.

Had it been anyone else, he would have jerked away and glared. But Kogure was different.

Kaede closed his eyes and leant back into his touch gratefully.

Throughout his life Kogure had been a comfort to him in his darkest and most confused moments. They'd grown up together, quietly depending on one another. Their souls were meshed together to the extent that Kaede sometimes felt that his very ability to breathe depended on him. Kogure's affection was his only consolation in a twisted existence.

The brown eyes flickered downwards and took a quick glance at the file under Kaede's fingertips. Kogure raised an eyebrow at the name he read there. Sendoh Akira.

He knew about Tetsuo seeing Kaede and Akira at the local basketball court. After all, he had been the one to apply the medicinal ointment to Kaede's bruised eye that day.

And Kaede had told him in confidence that he was planning to meet with the boy again in order to gain more information.

But he felt a tremor of misgiving to think that the episode was not yet finished.

He couldn't bear the idea of Kaede getting hurt. Whenever Hisashi and Kaede disagreed, it was usually Kaede who suffered in the end.

"The question..?" Kaede repeated Kogure's observation from a few moments ago in a low mutter, clearly distracted. His lips sloped downwards unhappily and Kogure stared down at that face for a moment, realising that he'd never before seen it quite so affected by something. It caused him real concern.

"Kiminobu!" A sharp, annoyed voice pierced its way down the stairway to where they were both tangled in their own thoughts. Kaede's eyes flew open and they both looked quickly towards the stairway.

Kaede did not need to look up at Kogure to know that a smile was spreading over his face, despite the obvious irritation in the voice that had called his name.

Quite why Kogure was so very much in love with Hisashi was something Kaede didn't always understand, but at the same time it was something he accepted. Whatever it was that attracted Kogure was no small thing, because the smaller boy loved Kaede's half-brother passionately. The three of them had spent so much time together, and yet Kaede had never been able to isolate the point in time when Kogure and Hisashi had stopped being like brothers and become lovers instead. It had been as sincere and artless as the entirely reverse process that had occurred between Kaede and Kogure.

Something about the idea of the two friends ever being together in a romantic sense seemed thoroughly aberrant. They were as close as it was possible to be, they knew and loved each other affectionately, trusted one another blindly, and yet to bring that love to a physical fruitation would have been utterly grotesque. Like violating something divine and pure. It would never be. And yet their love for one another could not be exaggerated.

Hisashi appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Kogure untangled his fingers from Kaede's hair and moved to join his lover.

Upon seeing his brother Kaede valiantly resisted the urge to snap the folder before him shut. Kogure finding him reading about Sendoh Akira didn't matter, but Hisashi would be serious trouble. Thankfully he was well aware that Hisashi would not be interested in what he was doing so long as he did not draw any attention to himself. Kogure, of course, would never mention anything to him.

Despite knowing this, Kaede couldn't help but feel a little relieved when Hisashi pulled Kogure into a rough, forceful kiss, clearly too interested in his lover to take any notice of his younger brother. He was dressed in his riding leathers which meant that they must be going out. He seemed even more intimidating than usual when he had Kogure so helplessly pressed against him.

Kaede took in the sight of them for a moment before looking away. The idea of Akira dominating him in the way Hisashi did Kogure appalled him momentarily. He thought back to their kiss and hoped more than anything that he hadn't looked quite so pathetic.

"We're going" Hisashi informed Kogure, grasping him by the wrist and pulling him back towards the stairs. He hadn't bothered to acknowledge Kaede's presence.

Kogure managed to look back briefly over his shoulder as they departed.

"I don't think you'll find your question or your answer down here, Kaede" he advised, with a soft smile which lingered in Kaede's vision even after the boy had disappeared from view. His words caused Kaede to wonder how much of the truth of the situation Kogure already suspected.

Alone again he looked down at the page in the file. Miura Beach. Reaching his decision he snapped it shut with a sudden motion, stood and quickly left without a backwards glance.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,

Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorns.

Akira was walking casually along the roadside with his fishing rod slung over one shoulder and a small box of bait gripped in his other hand. On the whole it had been a good day. The sun was only now just beginning to set on his right, giving a gentle orange hue to the world around him, causing the quietly breaking waves to the left to appear like liquid fire.

There was a pleasant sense of finality about the sunset, the sensation of a beautiful day coming to a beautiful close. The beach which ran parallel to the road was utterly deserted, the season still being too young and chilly for families to visit it. It would remain his exclusive sanctuary until the summer truly arrived in a few months time.

He'd come here in a bid to escape his father's bad temper. A cloud of tension was prevailing over the Sendoh house and had been all week. They'd received news that an external crime syndicate known as the Maki Group had taken an interest in business in Kanagawa although the group themselves operated exclusively in Tokyo. Word had been sent that the head of the family himself would be visiting to meet representatives from the Sendoh and Rukawa families to discuss business in two weeks time. It had the potential to be one of the largest black market deals struck in Yokohama for decades.

As no peaceful negotiation had occurred between the Sendoh and Rukawa families for at least three generations, the upcoming meeting was being feverishly planned and re-planned by Akira's father who could talk of little else.

The only part of it that interested Akira was the possibility of seeing Kaede there. However, under the combined weight of both houses it seemed unlikely that they would be able to exchange words. Perhaps not even exchange glances. Nonetheless Akira wanted to see him. To confirm that what had passed between them in Odawara had not been just a dream.

He shifted the fishing rod on his shoulder to a more comfortable position. He was walking back to his car which he'd left a couple of miles down the empty road, having earlier been so enchanted by the beautiful day that he'd decided to abandon the vehicle and walk to the fresh-water stream that was his fishing location. He'd spent the entire afternoon there, just enjoying the quiet and soothing peacefulness of nature while his mind had been a pleasant and continuous whirl of Rukawa Kaede.

He lifted his eyes and realised that he could now see the car he'd come in parked at the beachside. It was one of Hanamichi's; a royal blue BMW Z4.

Akira hadn't even considered the possibility of taking out his own car which was by far the most expensive and least used machine in the family's entire retinue. That thing was like a precious family ornament, or one's best clothes; something reserved exclusively for only the most important occasions.

The red sunset had caused the BMWs shadow to extend dramatically across the sand in a thick, black stain which was only vaguely recognisable as the distorted shape of the car's beautiful contours. But… something was a little odd about the form of the silhouette, causing Akira to blink and re-evaluate it.

There was an odd protrusion, a peculiar burst of lines at the shadow-car's rear section. Something rounded and spoked was stretching across the sand like a huge yawn.

It was the partial shadow of a bike wheel. Someone had parked next to him. Akira picked up his pace in curiosity. Had Hanamichi or Koshino come to find him? He'd switched his phone off all day, he recalled guiltily.

It wasn't long before his eyes could pick out the solitary figure laid back on the sand, nearly invisible since he was situated in the gloom of the car's outline. His head was resting back on his arms, one leg crooked and the other flat against the grains. The bike also became visible. Akira nearly stopped in surprise when he recognised the bright paint. His eyes flickered back to the reclining figure in disbelief. His heart began to jump in response to the hope he didn't feel confident enough to truly believe in. Surely it wasn't possible.

His legs carried him closer until he was crunching softly across the sand. The boy made no movement or response to his approach, still laying back, his face to the sky. Finally, standing beside him, Akira lowered his rod and bait box to the ground silently and looked down into the sleeping face of Rukawa Kaede. His breath caught.

The gentle sea breeze had brushed his fringe away from his face, leaving his closed eyelids and smooth forehead entirely revealed. There was not a single imperfection on his skin. While relaxed in sleep he looked so much softer, gentler, than he did ordinarily. His usually sharp eyebrows were curved and less aggressive, and his mouth was not puckered in irritation but ever so slightly parted with peace breathing.

Tossed onto the sand beside him neglectfully was his gun, the now familiar kitsunes continuing their dances. The breeze has caused a small build-up of sand on one of its sides. If left overnight the dangerous hook of metal would probably become completely buried. It made Akira wonder quite how long Kaede had been here.

He was slightly taken-aback by the confidence implied by Kaede's posture. To enter a well-known enemy locale and then to fall asleep with such abandon, even to the point of discarding your gun, seemed remarkably lax. What if it had been Hanamichi, and not Akira, who had found him? The scenario did not bear thinking about.

With a concerned sigh he lowered himself to sit beside the sleeping boy and reached out with a soft hand to brush his face in order to gently rouse him.

He was cruelly shocked out of his ease when, although he'd barely touched the smooth cheek with the tip of his fingers, the world seemed as if to suddenly tip sideways around him. The next thing he knew was that he was on his back, a gun pressed insistently against his temple while he stared with surprise into a pair of blinking blue eyes. The unlikely speed of the sudden motion whereby the formerly sleeping boy had moved against his disturber caused sense to temporally evade Akira so that he could only stare, aghast and stupid and say nothing.

After a few anxious moments, Kaede seemed to wake enough to recognise Akira's face before him, and he drew back, the gun dropping into his lap. The taller boy sat upright and let his breath out in a long rush.

Kaede's sleepy eyes roamed enquiringly over him as if momentarily confused as to why Akira was there. They gradually steeled, however, as the last vestiges of sleep parted from him and he seemed to remember where he was. As if self-conscious about the whole thing, Kaede then turned his face to the ocean and Akira was filled with insuppressible curiosity as to what had brought him here.

He felt thrills that went right through to his core. It seemed obvious enough that Kaede had come specifically to see him, and that alone made this meeting more significant than all their others combined. It was not a meeting of chance or of debt, but of actual purpose. And to Akira it seemed little short of miraculous to have the unreachable blue-eyed boy sitting here beside him so openly. The knowledge that it was probably fairly risky for them to be together in such a prominent place hovered on the border of his thoughts; however he had no intention of expressing this concern aloud. The last thing he wanted was for these delighted tremblings in his chest to stop.

They sat in silence for a while. No words or greetings of acknowledgement were exchanged, but neither of them was really aware of that. Even Akira, who was typically a more talkative sort, felt nothing awkward about the silence. For Kaede, of course, it was more characteristic, always having been one to speak only out of necessity and not in redundancy. He felt grateful, in fact, that Akira was not attempting to converse because his mind was too preoccupied with Kogure's elusive question and answer to concentrate on anything else.

He was sure he'd made the right decision in coming here. Somehow, sitting next to Akira felt more right, more natural, than gazing at the printed pictures of him had been. But still the whole thing continued to linger beyond his comprehension. What did he want? What had his purpose been in researching Akira, and in meeting him here? At present he was simply following his instinct blindly, giving into his lesser, primal urges in a desperate bid to understand.

He didn't know how the pressure in his chest could manifest itself into that question which he so very badly needed to ask. It felt like an uncomfortable irritation in his throat, begging for relief. He decided to try to speak in an attempt to set it free, hoping perhaps that he might inexplicably work it out without having to think too much about it.

"Why did you do it?"

His soft voice was very nearly carried away by the sea breeze, but Akira heard it.

The Sendoh boy managed to stifle his automatic response; 'do what?' No such superfluous words seemed acceptable here. Besides he admitted to himself that he knew exactly what Kaede was referring to. It seemed he hadn't been the only one who'd been dwelling on that moment over the past week.

"Because you were beautiful." It was the most honest answer he could give, while being simultaneously aware that he himself was not even sure of the reason.

"I'm not a girl" came the immediate reprimand. And by it Kaede did not mean so much that he objected to being called beautiful but rather that he couldn't be expected to appreciate such shallow sentiments. Being considered beautiful he could accept, but being considered the type who wanted to be told that he was beautiful bothered him. Somehow, Akira understood that.

"I didn't really mean your face" he said softly, with a smile at the recollection of it. The vision of Kaede as he had been broken, his soul dragged unwillingly out of its dark hiding place and into the sunshine had been glorious. Not that Akira had wanted to cause that distress – it had been an unfortunate side-effect – he had just wanted to… see him. Now he watched Kaede's profile curiously and caught the small creasing of his forehead which indicated his confusion, and the ever-so-slight parting of his lips in dissatisfaction.

He was impatient for Kaede to respond, seized with indomitable curiosity about what thoughts existed in the other boy's mind. What visions and fantasies did he see? What memories he had taken away from that warm day in Odawara?

But to his frustration Kaede remained silent.

In due time, he consoled himself silently, with an inward sigh, in due time his secrets will be unlocked for me, but I must not push him. He has come to me here of his own volition and for now… that is enough.

The thought raised a question. "How did you know to find me here?"

And Kaede let the answer begin to escape, "I read…" before stopping himself short in the sudden certainly that he couldn't admit to Akira that he had been researching him.

Not just out of a feeling of pride, but also with the realisation that just as he had been reading about Akira, no doubt Akira could do the same of him. He knew that the events of his life, including that disaster six years ago, would no doubt be documented in the Sendoh archives. The Sendoh family had been central in the affair after all. But the idea of Akira finding out what had happened, what he had done, which two weeks ago wouldn't have troubled him in the slightest, suddenly seemed apocalyptic in magnitude.

It gave him a sensation of vertigo, as if he were looking down a steep precipice with no barriers to stop his impending fall. The enormity of his mortification was equalled only by his surprise at how much he cared. His earlier fantasy of standing in parallel to Akira, winning his respect and awe, now seemed abruptly perverse. He was reminded that the reason he'd been cast down in the first place was that he deserved nothing more than to be despised by the world. That he was despicable even to himself. A monster.

Yet the idea of Akira hating him was suddenly unbearable. The last straw in a much cursed life. It filled him with a regret that he felt keenly, even more so after having kept such emotions at bay for so long. Regret over what he had lost and would never be able reclaim. Regret that he could never again be innocent. Regret that because of it, Akira would despise him.

A rush of feeling suddenly came upon him even as he valiantly tried to hold it back. Guilt was its fore-runner, but even that was quickly superseded by a crippling shame, self-loathing, misery and the first black sparks of despair, almost as if all the feelings he'd denied himself in recent years were coming upon him all at once. He felt his mind become paralyzed in the deluge. As the moments passed, more and more long-bottled emotion made it way up through the fog and into his consciousness, causing his resistance weaken and weaken until it all overwhelmed him with its gathering pace. He felt as if the ground beneath his feet was tipping from side to side in a sickening, plunging motion, sending him mentally tumbling.

He turned his wide eyes like lamps upon Akira, the catalyst of this descending turmoil, and felt something else entirely at once overshadow his other feelings.

Desire - ferocious and sharp-fanged like a shark rising out of the gushing waters of his undammed emotions.

Even as his mind struggled to contend with the chaos enveloping him, his body was already acting as though drugged with it.

"Akira-" his syllables sounded slurred, almost drunken, and drenched in his want. As Akira turned towards him he reached out as if taking destiny in his two hands. Gun-calloused and blood-gory as they were he found they were still adequate to cup that handsome face securely as he leant forward, vaguely horrified by what he was about to do, and kissed him forcefully.

The act caused an absolute hush in Kaede's mind, as though it were suddenly deserted: passing momentarily through the eye of the storm.

Everything focused upon a single pin-point. A bead that then fell like a drop of water descending from great height. The musical note that it made echoed and reverberated around his mind, starting a proclamation of sounds where before there had been nothing.

It was the first note in a long fall which would be undoubtedly spectacular. The manifestation of a sanity being rocked.

Kaede's higher consciousness panicked and reached out blindly into the mental abyss for that calming presence who had always been the preserver of his sanity. The boy who, through many years, had given Kaede the help and strength to maintain the mental walls which kept madness at bay. The boy who held the keys to the cell that contained the last feeble flutterings of Kaede's long abused soul.

That face … someone important to him… his eyes… surely they were brown but…

…with dismay Kaede realised he could not remember his name.

Instead Kaede was pressing himself against the very antithesis. This Akira Sendoh who, during the short weeks of their acquaintance had caused such damage to Kaede's mental stability that the boy was, for the first time in years, aware of emotion. Pure and real and engulfing him mercilessly. He was no longer capable of fighting it.

The silken cocoon that Kogure had so carefully weaved to protect the delicate orb of Kaede's soul was snapping and breaking as Akira flew into it like an angry bee. The little gem tipped out of its protective shell and fell, in a glitter of light towards the floor, perhaps to smash into a thousand shards of madness.

Akira was holding him tightly, his hands clenched in his hair, and kissing him with all the ferocity that Kaede needed from him, the pleasure of it keeping the chaos of despair temporarily at bay. He wanted and needed nothing quite so much as to be utterly powerless in this embrace.

He felt a warm tongue sliding against his own, invading him, possessing him, and drawing a tight moan from his throat as if his soul was being pulled out through his mouth. His hands were clinging to the front of Akira's cotton shirt, desperately holding him close as his only anchor in the whirlwind.

It was all too much. Blackness flickered on the edge of his vision.

But it was clear now that this was what he had come here to do. Perhaps everything over the last few weeks had been leading up to this violent reckoning. The question he'd been seeking an answer to he now knew could never have been expressed in words. It was this. Body against body, lips against lips, one soul calling out to another. Furious need. Burning entreaty.

Their embrace was tightly entwined as they continued to kiss with fervour; and all the while the walls of Kaede's world crumbled and fell all around them, rocking the ground with their collapse.

love is… a madness most discreet

~tbc

Updated Versions: Feb 2010, May 2010, Dec 2018

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