For Irrelevancy on account of her overwhelming support and encouragement, for being far too nice and sweet a person to beta-read anything, and being generally totally awesome.

A Romeo and Juliet Story

Chapter 12

Warning: blood, violence and death to rival the average self-respecting Shakespearian tragedy.

Akira blinked reluctantly back into consciousness. The first thing he was aware of was the cold. A chill seemed to have crept through him and penetrated his very bones during the time he'd been unconscious. The concrete floor was cruel to him, pressing mercilessly against his cramped and aching body with an unprecedented degree of discomfort. Nearby he saw Hanamichi's eyes open and bright and fixed on him, alive with fast thoughts and schemes of escape. He pursed his lips in hush, to warn Akira not to speak.

They'd been brought inside one of the concrete warehouses which populated the docks. A typical lofty ceiling was angular over high and tiny windows so caked with grime that nothing but the most meagre light came through. They lay in an empty, open area at the front end of the building, the rest of the huge warehouse cavity stacked high with gigantic shipping containers, rusted doors swinging to reveal empty cold interiors. Dark corridors were formed between the stacks like an eerie metal maze. The place was barren and bleak and cold.

Akira could see that Hanamichi had his wrists and ankles bound with plastic wire ties and from the feel of it so did he. It was so painfully uncomfortable that he almost wished he were still unconscious. And yet he was surprisingly calm. He felt a little sick, due no doubt to the blow he'd received to his head, but he felt no panic. No need to struggle at his binds or lose himself in the adrenaline of fright. Instead he felt curiously resigned. He knew that if this was the place that he would die, he could meet that death without fear. But something else was bothering him. Even though Hanamichi was there, inches away so that he ought to have been able to draw strength and courage from him, Akira had never felt so alienated, so alone. The only one who knew. The only one who would ever know. If he died here in silence by Hisashi's hand it would be such an imbalance. Where was his great fight? Where was Kaede by his side, cold and dangerous and perfect? How inequitable, he mused, that in the end he would be killed simply for being a Sendoh, and not for being Kaede's lover. How ironic. How unfair.

Finally he became aware of the noises; the shuffling and breathing that came from somewhere behind him, beyond the range of his vision, and realised that he and Hanamichi were not alone in this sorry place.

"I still don't get it." It was man's voice Akira didn't recognise, sounding both annoyed and bored, "why can't we just kill them?"

"Shut up, Ryu," that seemed to be Hisashi. "We can kill Sendohs every fucking day, but this opportunity is one in a million."

There followed a baited silence in which Akira exchanged a glance with Hanamichi. If they hadn't been brought here to be killed, what else could Hisashi intend? What opportunity was he referring to? Though he held it back as best he could, something a little more like fear crept irresistibly into Akira's chest. Death was predictable, made sense, could be prepared for. The unknown was decidedly harder to submit himself to.

A rustle of clothes sounded as someone stood up and began to pace across the floor, shoes making heavy footsteps in the dust and dirt. Hisashi's feet crossed into Akira's line of sight and the Rukawa heir stopped, facing the nearby wall as if contemplating it.

Akira felt a sudden and unsettling anger looking at Kaede's brother: the familiar tousle of unruly black hair, the pale and almost regal complexion and, most tellingly of all, the striking blue eyes. Such similarity that only heightened their irreconcilable difference. One a master of the house and the other only a slave to it.

"I've already told you what to do" Hisashi said firmly over his shoulder in a voice that brooked no argument; in the low and competent gruffness of a man who owned the world.

There was silence until a third voice which Akira recognised as Tetsuo's asked, "Do you really think we can do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know…" he dropped his voice as if it were a terrible secret, "…kill Kaede?"

Akira felt the full sensation of dread as if some terrible creature had wrapped itself in crushing black coils around his chest. Yes, he realised, Hisashi did know about his relationship to Kaede - he recalled now that Hisashi had even lured them by pretending to be him - but no, he wasn't here to be killed. He wouldn't be afforded any such dignity. Instead he was here as some kind of bait. Just a maggot wiggling on the end of a line. A cursed and useless thing to hurry not only his own demise, but that of the one he wanted to protect.

Why Hisashi wanted to kill Kaede he didn't know, but still he pleaded with whatever gods might be up there and listening: Please don't let him come, already knowing it was a futile wish. Knowing that it was all too inevitable.

Oh, I am fortune's fool!

Hisashi turned around crisply to face his two subordinates. "Just do as I told you and this will be easy," he said confidently.

"That isn't what I meant," Tetsuo said, defending himself from the implied jibe with his most dismissive and brusque voice. "I meant the family isn't going to like this, right? I don't want to lose my fingers over this, you know."

Hisashi gave a dismissive shrug. "It's just a game. We are both playing by the same rules." His eyes moved over to where Akira and Hanamichi were lying. Akira, too slow to close his eyelids, found himself unexpectedly meeting Hisashi's stare across the cold air. Two heirs from two great houses stood on opposite sides of an unfathomable divide. Hisashi's smile widened and, knowing it was too late to still pretend to be unconscious, Akira looked straight back at him. "The reason I can kill Kaede is right here." Hisashi explained with a sneer, not breaking their eye contact.

Worse than a worm Akira realised with recoiling horror which he valiantly managed to keep from showing in his face. He wasn't only acting as bait; he was being condemned to be Hisashi's own shield. He was the means with which Hisashi would denounce Kaede as some kind of traitor and so protect himself from the otherwise certain animosity of his own house. As Tetsuo had rightly deduced one couldn't simply kill their own allies recklessly. To kill Kaede would be for Hisashi to write his own death warrant unless he could prove that Kaede were a traitor or a threat to the family which, in the most unjust sense imaginable, Akira supposed he was. Though it seemed awful to think it, like the world had turned so deceitfully upside-down, the truth really was so unfairly on Hisashi's side.

Tetsuo had paused in thought as he puzzled this out. "You mean… if Kaede is really a traitor, the family won't mind?"

Hisashi tipped his chin in off-handed confirmation, his eyes still fixed on Akira, "Something like that. What do you think, Sendoh-sama?"

There's no trust, no faith, no honesty in men.

Somewhere behind him Tetsuo and Ryu moved in surprise, not having realised that he was awake, but Akira was only focused on Hisashi who stood so easy and aloof some feet away from him. Akira didn't speak, only narrowing his eyes, furious that he had fallen so easily into Hisashi's plans. Furious that he might be the cause of Kaede's downfall.

Hisashi tilted his head, smirked infuriatingly and, with the grating noise of gravel under his soles, began to approach. Akira immediately felt his entire body tense up but did not look away or let his eyes flicker for even a moment. He could not afford to show any weakness in front of this man, even though he knew he was already caught, a fly in a spider's web.

Hisashi stopped, the toes of his boots inches from Akira's nose so that Akira could see the rough texture of the leather and every fleck of dirt that sullied them. Without further words Hisashi reached down and grabbed a fistful of Akira's hair, yanking his head up roughly, pulling his shoulders fully up off the ground. Akira winced and squeezed his eyes tight against the force of tearing hair. With his wrists bound behind him, he had no way to support his weight.

"You'll explain to my father for me, right?" Hisashi mocked in a disturbingly friendly voice, "Tell them what a dirty little whore Kaede has been?"

"Fuck… you." Akira gasped brokenly in reply.

"But Kaede will already be dead" Hisashi pointed out sweetly, "there'd be no point in prolonging your own death by refusing to cooperate with me."

"Get the fuck off," Hanamichi snarled from where he lay nearby, struggling against his binds and attempting to lunge towards Hisashi. A wave of remorse passed through Akira when he remembered that Hanamichi didn't know – hadn't any idea how much he and Kaede had risked, how much of this situation was Akira's own foolish fault – but that he too would be caught up in their fall.

Hisashi contemplated Hanamichi's struggles for a moment, the mock sweetness dissolving from his face, and then coolly and without warning jerked his arm and pitched Akira face-first into the floor. There was a nauseating crack and the hot sensation of blood as his nose smashed against the concrete. Akira gasped. The pain was so sudden and blinding that he couldn't help but twist his body with agony, struggling against the binds at his wrists in a reflexive effort to bring his hands to his wounded face.

Hisashi stood and dusted imaginary dirt from his coat as Tetsuo and Ryu immediately hurried over to have a look at the spectacle.

"Awesome," Ryu grinned, putting his foot against Akira's shoulder and forcing him onto his back. He stared in sick fascination at the rivulets of blood that quickly filled the lines in his agonised face, tracing the sticky shiny trails of violence with blood-lusting eyes. His features twisted into a grin, but the result looked more soiled than happy, his foul smile like broken glass.

Beside him, Tetsuo dropped to a crouch and seized a fistful of Akira's shirt, pulling him upwards. Akira choked on the blood that had pooled in his mouth but managed to meet Tetsuo's eyes defiantly.

"You've fucked him, haven't you?" Tetsuo demanded "Kaede-sama, I mean. What's it like? What's it like to make him scream?"

Despite the pain of his broken nose, Akira found his muscles still had enough mobility to spew a glob of blood and spit right into Tetsuo's eye. The man immediately released him in disgust, sleeve going up to wipe at his face, and this time it was the back of Akira's head that hit the concrete.

Oh, where is Romeo? – saw you him today?

Right glad am I he was not at this fray.

Akira lay dazed in a hazy world of sweltering pain, hearing the vague noises of Tetsuo's outrage and Ryu's amusement. He felt someone stomp on his unprotected stomach and his body responded reflexively, coughing and spluttering, but then there followed long moments of blankness, as if the information from his eyes and ears was simply not reaching his brain. Tiny flecks of white light flickered on the edge of his blackened vision, and then all at once he realised that Tetsuo and Ryu had gone, and there was only Hisashi standing nearby, and the atmosphere had changed. Changed so tangibly that he could almost taste it.

He waited, confused and apprehensive. The injured nerves in his face clammered furiously for his attention, but outside of his own pain nothing else seemed to be happening. Finally Akira let his head fall to the side, looking towards the source of the change, simultaneously welcoming and dreading it.

His figure in the doorway was a shadow, lithe and formless and curling black like smoke, blocking out the late afternoon sun like an eclipse. The bright outside light coupled with the blood that ran into Akira's eyes and the concussion that muffled him, made it safe to say that if he hadn't already known who it was, he wouldn't have been able to tell. And yet he knew. Of course he knew.

A shameful part of him stupidly didn't want Kaede to see him like this – helpless on the ground at Hisashi's feet, bloody and beaten. But an even more shameful part of him was afraid. Not of Hisashi or Tetsuo or Ryu. No – he was suddenly afraid of Kaede. Afraid of an unleashed kitsune and what destruction he might herald.

Because Akira suddenly knew what Hisashi had meant by playing by the same rules. Because all at once he realised that if Kaede killed Hisashi, the House of Rukawa would destroy him.

Part fools!

Put up your swords; you know not what you do.

Akira wanted to tell him to stop. To make him realise that his future, his soul, was worth so much more than their lives. That he shouldn't sell himself so cheaply, like a whore to blood and death. But his breath failed him and the only sound was the emotionless click of a cocked gun. And his eyes… Akira caught sight of those clouded windows and felt a dark dread. Empty. Soulless. Almost…

…inhuman.

This wasn't Kaede, he realised numbly. At least, not as he'd ever known him before. The boy who'd shivered and gasped and opened like a flower under his touch was little but a distant recollection. Barely a shred of him was left in those eyes. No. Akira was looking into the eyes of a killer, so long steeped in blood-rage and his own soul shattered agony that he was almost animal in his stare. Placed beside this overwhelming blackness, Ryu's little sadistic whims would seem like the innocent play of a child.

No, this wasn't Kaede. This was the night hunter. This was the fox.

Hisashi was still for a second, taking careful measure of his brother. Then he reached down and pulled Hanamichi up to his feet by the collar, showing surprising strength considering that he was shorter and slimmer than his charge, and with an arm around Hanamichi's throat, pressed a gun barrel to the red hair.

"Don't come closer or I'll kill him?" he offered in a voice of lilting parody as if it were all an amusing joke.

Kaede moved deliberately forwards, his heels clicking on the concrete with each stride, that familiar long coat lifting gently in an echo of his movements. His expression and his eyes remained empty, totally unimpassioned by anger or emotion. That awful and ruthless detachment that marked him at his most terrifying, his most dangerous. "So kill him" he replied, "the redhead means nothing to me."

"B… bastard fox!" Hanamichi managed to bellow around Hisashi's constricting arm.

Hisashi blanked for only a second before his insatiable grin returned, "Oh really? But I thought you were a Sendoh now?"

Kaede stopped, and the hem of the coat fell back towards the ground. "Not at all."

"Right, right" Hisashi nodded mockingly, and Akira couldn't understand how he could be so immune to the petrifying effect of Kaede's unblinking stare. Surely anyone with sense would flee before this vision of terror.

However, seemingly unconcerned, Hisashi dropped the now irrelevant Hanamichi again so he fell to the floor with a grunt. "That's good" he continued brazenly, "because I'm sure I remember that you swore to kill Taoka Sendoh yourself. You didn't forget about that, did you?"

There was a brief pause while Kaede watched him coldly. "I didn't forget."

Hisashi considered this for a moment, and then sneered. "And I suppose," he began, "you expect me to believe that selling your body to these bastards was simply an attempt to get closer to Taoka?"

For the first time the corners of Kaede's lips lifted in dark humour and if anything he became more dreadful than ever.

"I don't give a fuck what you believe."

Let them measure us by what they will.

Despite obvious danger, Hisashi did not back down. "You're acting very strangely Kaede" he pointed out almost conversationally instead, smiling provokingly.

Kaede did not respond, gun still gripped and pointed in his direction, hammer cocked, unfired.

"If you're always so efficient, so fucking business-like," Hisashi continued boldly, triumphantly, as if laying down his perfect hand, "Then why haven't you killed me yet?"

Akira blinked and looked quickly towards Kaede. There was no discomfort in Kaede's features, no reaction at all in fact, and yet it suddenly seemed to Akira that Hisashi's words rang strangely true. Was there something odd in Kaede's hesitation? It didn't seem as if any kind of sentiment for his brother's life would cause Kaede to delay but why, then, what was he waiting for? Had he realised that he couldn't afford to kill Hisashi without some kind of alibi?

"Lacking confidence in your left hand?" Hisashi suggested innocently, although not able to keep the smirk of triumph from his lips.

And at that Kaede finally blinked, his features flickering out of composure for barely a second, but both Hisashi and Akira saw it, one with glee and one with concern. Akira had forgotten entirely about Kaede's handicap. Without the use of his right hand, how much had his skill diminished?

"Come on," Hisashi goaded, spreading his arms wide in a blatant invitation for Kaede to take a shot, and although Kaede narrowed his eyes dangerously, to Akira's dismay he made no move. Hisashi's impudent confidence even in the face of Kaede's fiercest front suddenly made unfortunate sense. It seemed almost ironic that Kaede's own hesitation served to prove that he was no longer the threat he had once been. The air was suddenly almost too tense to bear. Akira had no idea what Kaede planned to do.

"This isn't much of a trap Kaede" Hisashi continued smugly, dropping his arms back to his sides with a flump. "I mean, you set this up just to be thwarted by my lucky foresight to remove two of your fingers? How short-sighted of you."

Akira's eyebrows furrowed at that, uncomprehending.

"What?" Hisashi was still smirking, "Did you think I was as stupid as these brainless morons? I know that this whole thing is your setup. You went and fucking gave me the alibi I'd been waiting for, gift-wrapped the means to kill you. You could have kept your sick little alliance secret for years if you'd actually wanted to. But you didn't. So tell me Kaede, what exactly do you hope to gain by luring me here like this?"

Akira, who could make no sense of the sudden turn in the conversation, turned puzzled eyes upon Kaede's still silent figure. If he had hoped for comfort, acknowledgment, explanation, he was disappointed. He knew that Kaede hadn't spared him a glance since he'd arrived, and what he saw now was not the thawing boy who he called his lover but someone impossibly cold and hard, distant and cruel, still and dark and utterly flawless. It seemed clearer than ever that the Kaede he knew was far beyond his reach, and that more was going on here than Akira had first realised. He hung on Kaede's next words in a kind of stupefied astonishment.

"The house" Kaede replied simply. "I want the house."

O, that deceit should dwell

In such a gorgeous place.

Hanamichi sent Akira a look, but Akira didn't see. He didn't see anything. Nothing was making sense.

Hisashi was also staring in some bemusement. "The house?" he echoed, and then laughed. "You're fucking joking right? Don't get ahead of yourself. Even if you still had enough skill to kill me – which you don't – and even if you'd somehow found a way to trick father into believing your innocence – which you haven't – you're still fucking disinherited, remember? You're not in the fucking line anymore Kaede, did you forget? The house will never be yours."

Kaede did nothing but shrug.

Hisashi stared at him, perhaps waiting for more, but no explanation was forthcoming. Kaede remained frustratingly silent and unmoved. Hisashi's shoulders heaved in annoyance.

"Well, whatever. Carry on with your fucking delusions, but why you thought you could seduce a couple of fucking Sendohs and… "

He stopped abruptly. The shrill ring of a cell phone emanated from his jean pocket. He watched his brother suspiciously for a moment, until Kaede shrugged slightly and lowered his gun as if in some kind of gentlemen's agreement. Hisashi's eyes remained tight and wary but he brought the phone out and glanced down at the name on the display, eyebrows creasing in irritation, before bringing it up to his ear.

"What?" he barked into it.

He listened down the line, and as he did so the muscles in his face gradually began to twitch and move in tiny irritate movements in response to the news he was hearing. Kaede remained blank-faced, but Akira watched the clouds descending on Hisashi's face with both curiosity and concern.

"When did you find…?" Hisashi asked into the handset, his voice a little bit smaller than before. The answer must have come immediately because he listened intently, and then slowly closed his eyes as if processing the news numbly.

"I'm at the docks in Tsuzuki" he said finally. "Yes, Kaede too. Yes, send a car…" his eyes lifted and fixed on his brother, "…I'll need one. Yes, that's right. Thirty minutes. Fine."

He pressed the disengage button without taking his eyes off Kaede. Seconds ticked past with unbelievable slowness.

A plague upon both your houses.

"He's dead." Hisashi said finally, his voice dry and hollow. "Shot." He began to pace back and forth across the floor in agitation. "Akagi said it looks like suicide."

"Who's dead?" Hanamichi demanded.

Hisashi stopped and stared searchingly at Kaede across the cold air of the warehouse. It seemed to Akira as if they both understood something, shared something, and he was sure for a moment, absolutely sure, that Kaede already knew the answer. But he must have been mistaken because Hisashi gave a bitter smile and his next words changed everything.

"Kiminobu," he said.

What-? Akira's eyes flew to Kaede to see his reaction even as his own lips formed the shape of a horrified "no". Kogure… dead? Suicide? How could that be? Surely it was a cruel joke.

But in Kaede something had changed. Something in his expression had cracked. It was as if the news were a whip that had caught and snapped at the lion he was so that the fearsome creature cowered back, and what remained was so vulnerable and so scarred a simple blow might break it. Behind his eyes, Akira saw with horror, his world had shattered. And as Akira watched in disbelief, Kaede's wrist slackened in shock. With a peculiar slowness his gun loosened in his grasp and began to fall gently towards the floor, making elegant spirals in the air as it tumbled. And that brief moment, that smallest lapse in focus, was all Tetsuo and Ryu had been waiting for.

They appeared out of nowhere from between the metal crates, running at full tilt, their intention quite clearly to crash bodily into Kaede even as he stood still and shocked with the news.

Not caring about anything except the impending disaster, seeing so clearly what was about to happen, Akira screamed his name with every scrap of breath his pained body could produce.

Hearing him, Kaede looked up numbly to see his fast-approaching assailants.

He's got time to react! Akira realised in relief, but even as he counted on it, Kaede didn't move. In those few seconds it was as if he just wasn't there at all – as if the shock of Kogure's death had wiped him utterly blank, he was somehow no longer himself. It was as if a part of him had died too.

"Kaede!" Akira screamed again.

Tis in vain to seek him that means not to be found.

Tetsuo was larger, heavier and stronger than Kaede, and the force of the collision was bone-shattering. Akira winced as Kaede was knocked off his feet as if he were nothing more than a rag doll and slammed violently against the wall. The iron structure echoed angrily with the boom of the impact.

Tetsuo wrapped his large hands around Kaede's throat and with both arms managed to lift him fully off the ground, pinning him against the wall. Kaede immediately choked and struggled against his grip, hands going up to claw at the fists tight around his neck like a snared animal. Ryu was at once beside them, gun in hand.

"Do it," Tetsuo grunted, using all his strength to keep Kaede trapped. Ryu readied the gun and for a moment Akira was convinced that they were going to simply kill him point blank. But when Ryu fired the bullet, it was directed not to Kaede's head or chest, but to his knee.

The sound Kaede made couldn't really be described as a scream. He choked on his pain, but still the agony was unmistakable. His body tensed for a moment, frozen by the shock, but then his struggles against Tetsuo renewed and increased in intensity and he kicked out at Ryu with his remaining good leg but couldn't reach.

"You know," Ryu said conversationally, "they always say that the knee is the most painful place to get shot."

"Really?" Tetsuo grunted, "I thought it was the stomach?"

"Oh shit, really?" Ryu grinned excitedly, "My bad."

Akira didn't have time to close his eyes before another shot sounded and another bullet lodged itself this time into Kaede's gut. Kaede's body twitched and jerked involuntarily in response, a low, desperate cry on his lips. Blood rapidly expanded out of the wounds, saturating the fibres of his clothes and dripping ominously from the tips of his shoes. The combination of restricted air, blood loss and pain weakened him so rapidly that Tetsuo soon released him. He dropped to the floor but his legs were no longer capable of supporting him and he collapsed at Tetsuo's feet clutching his stomach.

"And this is the feared kitsune?" Ryu asked disgustedly, putting his foot flat against Kaede's chest and shoving him forcefully back against the wall. Kaede's hands went up to grip the offending ankle as if to push it away, but he had no strength to do so.

"Fucking pathetic," Ryu mocked, and spat down on him. Lost in his pain Kaede didn't seem to even notice.

These violent delights have violent ends.

Akira was struggling desperately against his binds, not caring whether or not Hisashi saw his panic and desperation. He couldn't allow this to happen. He couldn't witness this and do nothing. Kaede needed him. Hadn't he sworn to never again allow himself to fail? Hadn't he chosen this path himself? Wasn't he stronger than this? Then why? - why!?

Despite his frantic rocking and struggling, neither his wrists nor his ankles loosened and eventually he was forced to cease his fruitless efforts, breathing heavily, frustrated tears blinding him.

"Fuck" he gasped into the dirt, desperate and crushed by his own powerlessness.

When he lifted his head again it was in time to see Ryu lift a knife to Kaede's lips who in turn glared at him in helpless wounded fury.

"Let's make him smile," Ryu commented with a cruel smirk as if he found the idea suitably ironic. He turned the blade to press against the inside corner of Kaede's mouth and Kaede's fists clenched as he struggled to move away, but couldn't escape Ryu's hand which clenched in his hair and pulled his head back. Already racked with the agony from his stomach and knee Kaede closed his eyes, too weak to defend himself even as the knife slid slowly into his cheek, parting skin and nerves, drawing so many perfect berries of red blood on porcelain skin. He accepted the knife with exhaustion. It was as if he'd given up; all his fire gone.

I have lost myself; I am not here;

This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

Akira was sure he would lose his mind. He hadn't been under any illusions – he had known all along that death was something that would probably come to both of them. But this? This? Kaede – so proud and so strong - broken in this way? Akira wanted to scream. He couldn't endure it.

So he closed his eyes. He was pathetic, he knew, but he just couldn't watch. He couldn't bear to see it. It seemed like all his strength had gone out of him, leaving him empty and drained. All the ferocity he'd called up in his determination to defy the houses, even his will to live, everything he was felt like it was being slowly squeezed out of him, as if he were being strangled by his own miserable fate. Forced to lie helpless and useless, unable to relieve any inch of Kaede's agony while he himself was cruelly preserved. Totally disregarded and abandoned to his own terrible demons.

And in those black moments, face down in the dirt, knowing that there was no escape and no salvation, that Kaede was going to die painfully right before his eyes, for the first time in his life he knew what it was to despair. For the first time, he wanted just to die.

Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

As if in response to his thoughts, an angry angular foot kicked him over onto his back and the cool ring of a gun barrel pressed against his forehead. He opened his eyes and saw Hisashi looking down on him, eyes red and wild and disgusted.

"Want me to end your misery?" he sneered.

In shame Akira couldn't meet his stare. Instead his eyes roamed up to focus on the deadly piece of metal which mocked him with the release he so desired – the gun that might, with any luck, claim his life. Such a marvel of engineering – elegant, iconic and beautiful. And he saw there the now-familiar engravings – six foxes dancing, turning, jumping merrily like something out of a fable. It was Kaede's gun, he realised numbly. Hisashi must have picked it up from the floor where Kaede had dropped it.

The irony tasted bitter, one last merciless twist at his heart. It was only foolish sentiment he knew. Being shot with any gun amounted to the same thing, but somehow knowing that this was the gun he's held in his hand in Odawara and with which he'd taken those first tentative steps with Kaede so many months ago just made everything seem that much more senseless. Just that little bit worse.

Hisashi cocked the hammer purposefully. Akira let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes again, knowing that he was lost. Ashamed yet alarmingly grateful that his death would be so easy.

"You can't kill him – you said you needed him!" Hanamichi protested anxiously, eyes wide at the sight of the gun threatening his brother's life.

Hisashi gave a shrug. "Kiminobu is dead," he said, as if it explained everything, not caring about anything else.

"So you're just gonna throw everything away?" Hanamichi continued passionately, his voice quick with panic, but Hisashi ignored him.

So they are similar after all, Akira realised sorrowfully. Kaede and Hisashi. For Kogure Kiminobu they'd both give up their lives.

"Why don't you kill me?" Hanamichi continued desperately. "I've been your enemy for years. Akira has nothing to do with anything!"

"No." Hisashi replied bluntly. "I intend to cause my brother as much fucking misery as possible. So, good night, Akira Sendoh."

And with that, so abrupt and so sudden, at point-blank range, he pulled the trigger.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love.

In your final moment – those last precious seconds – where do you put your faith? In god? In yourself? In the people with whom you share your life?

Who do you look to to save you when you are beyond saving? Where does your faith lie?

Perhaps the most vicious truth is that you'll only find out what resides in the depths of your soul at the very same moment that you lose it. At least – that's how it seemed to Akira then.

And he wondered… if he had known when he'd woken up that this would be the day he died, would he have done anything differently? If he had known that his death would serve no purpose except to cause torment to the one he loved, would he still have fallen in love with him? If he had thought he could have saved Kaede from even one second of pain, would he still have chosen this path, this fate?

I dreamt a dream tonight.

And so did I!

Well, what was yours?

That dreamers often lie.

The sound that filled his ears in that last moment was not the echoing bang of gunpowder, but a song. A sweet noise, worlds removed from anything he'd ever heard before. Something primal and terrible but nonetheless beautiful which caused his blood to stir and rise as if to meet it lovingly. The sound of speeding death. Natural, yet entirely alien. Music at once so victorious and so very sad.

Blood gushed down his neck and over his body, hot. It felt so hot, like scalding water against his skin. The gun too dropped down beside him – blood collecting rapidly like little pools in the engraved lines, drenching those childish foxes in their favourite honey, making them shine and laugh with red violence. He felt his body crushed against the floor and there he lay, still and silent in a rapidly expanding lake of dark blood.

And then, after a long and confused moment, he opened his eyes.

His name is Romeo, and a Montague;

The only son of your great enemy.

Hisashi had crumpled where he stood, collapsing forwards onto Akira, crushing him. Something had burst forth from his throat like a strange silver flower. Akira couldn't make out what that odd projection was for a moment, until he realised that he was staring at the tip of a blade which had entered Hisashi's neck from the back.

He lay silent in a dazed confusion for a moment before struggling to lift his head and look towards where he'd last seen his lover at the mercy of Tetsuo and Ryu's whims. And there he stared.

Kaede had managed to stand only by stabbing his knife right through the metal sheet to form a handhold by which he was supporting the majority of his weight. His left hand was still extended forwards in the elegant attitude of the second knife which he'd thrown. At his feet, returned to their rightful places, Tetsuo and Ryu gazed up at him adoringly, their eyes wide with wonder, their throats ripped out.

And there he stood, bloody and terrible, the only one among the carnage he himself had reaped, as he had always reaped. Creature of war, creature of destruction. The ever-venerated god of death.

And all at once Akira realised Hisashi's mistake. All at once he knew that the ten centimetres of throat into which the knife had slicked itself like a lover were nine more than Kaede had needed. Because he realised, as he should have known all along, and as Hisashi had foolishly forgotten, that Kaede's left hand was just as accurate as his right.

It came to him in the strangest of sensations like a rapidly clearing fog; the memory of a bullet sailing past his ear and slamming into the headrest, and the almost forgotten words of the doctor Ishizuka two months before: eight shot from his right hand, and a further seven from his left. Such skill should never have been in doubt.

But was this... victory?

Kaede had held the trump card all along, so why had he allowed Ryu and Tetsuo to hurt him so grievously? Akira couldn't for the moment understand. He opened his mouth as if to ask, only to see Kaede shake his head as if trying to clear it, seemingly confused as he swayed, teetering on the brink of consciousness, and then he crashed heavily to the floor – exhausted, unconscious or dead, Akira had no idea.

"Kaede!" he gasped, and immediately renewed his frantic struggle against his binds, only to find to his despair that they held just as fast as before.

I defy you, stars!

"For fuck's sake, stop it!" Hanamichi reprimanded after a moment of watching his panicked jerking and writhing.

"Can't…" Akira gasped, "…have to…"

"Are you stupid?" Hanamichi exclaimed in aspiration, "Don't you realise he threw you a fucking knife?"

Akira stilled, breathing heavily, trying to control his state of panic.

"Can you reach it?" he asked after a moment.

"Wait…" Hanamichi wriggled and rocked himself closer, seeking blindly with his hands behind his back for the knife that still protruded from the back of Hisashi's neck. Ignoring his disgust, hands clenching and unclenching in the cooling liquid gore that dribbled from the gash, Hanamichi managed to wrench it free and set about trying awkwardly to cut blindly through the ties that held Akira's wrists.

After a couple of frustrating minutes of effort which felt hopelessly longer, the plastic finally gave way and Akira succeeded in wrenching himself free. He paused only long enough to return the favour to Hanamichi before hurrying upright, only to collapse again due to the immediate and terrible cramps in his legs. He half stumbled and half fell to Kaede's side.

"Kaede!" he gasped, clutching his shoulders and moving him carefully onto his back. Kaede winced in pain, his eyes creased with the effort of clinging to consciousness, one hand still clutching his wounded stomach.

"You must go," he said weakly.

"I can't leave you like this – you need a goddamn doctor! At least let me…"

"The house…" Kaede interrupted, pausing to breath unsteadily before continuing, "…will be here soon. Don't… get yourself… caught. I can't… do any more than… this."

Akira shook his head to refuse. He couldn't for a second entertain the notion of abandoning Kaede in such a state and besides, he had thousands of questions and, judging from the awful state of Kaede's injuries, not enough time to ask them all.

Kaede reached out and grasped Akira's arm tightly, causing him to still. "I won't die," he answered the unasked question with extraordinary bluntness, looking up into Akira's panicked expression. "Wound like this…" he looked dazedly down at his bloodied hand that covered the bullet hole, "missed the… liver… so… would probably take… ten hours or… so to… be fatal." He sighed tiredly. "Those… idiots." He winced.

Akira let out an exhausted sigh, wondering vaguely whether he was meant to laugh or despair, and dropped his head to Kaede's chest, noting how unsteady his breathing was.

Deny thy father, and refuse thy name.

"It was you," he whispered after a moment, "you… you told Hisashi about us."

Kaede nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Then is it true that you planned this just so you might inherit your house?" Akira was unable to keep the blot of accusation out of his voice despite his best efforts.

Kaede frowned slightly. "Akira…" his voice was softer and weaker by the second "…did you ever think about… ending the… rivalry?"

Akira froze and then lifted his head in surprise. The words were familiar. Of course they were. They were a repetition of his own naïve blatherings uttered that night high above Yokohama. The first reluctant understanding of Kaede's intentions crept into his mind, though he found himself awed into disbelief by the sheer scale and ambition of them.

"You want to... unite the houses?" he queried in astonishment.

Kaede looked up at him, "You must… make it… possible."

Akira closed his eyes and squeezed Kaede's hand. "Will your father really recognise you as heir?"

"He has no... other choice. I'm the… only... one. The bloodline is… more important than… reputation but…" he took an unsteady breath, "You must say… it was you who… did this."

Akira lifted his head to survey carnage grimly, "Claim that I killed three Rukawas?"

"Four." Kaede corrected, gesturing weakly to himself.

Akira closed his eyes. "No one would believe that."

"They must."

Looking down into Kaede's eyes, Akira found them as determined and sure as ever, hard and uncompromising despite the blood that pooled about him, the pain and faintness he must have been feeling, the horrifying tear at the corner of his lips.

"When will I see you again?" Akira demanded finally, already knowing the answer, already knowing what they had to do but almost masochistic in his desire to have it confirmed. He could feel hot tears gathering under his eye lashes but was determined not to let them fall, knowing that despite his seeming fierceness, Kaede's will was wholly dependant on Akira's own strength. That it was in the end only Akira's hand in his that was keeping him from falling apart.

"The next time we meet" Kaede promised softly, "I will throw the house of Rukawa at your feet."

Akira squeezed his hand tightly. He understood what had been done and how much they were both gambling on. He could see that the odds were already ridiculously small and that this was a last desperate lunge for them, an all or nothing shot. They had no choice but to wait until they each had control over their own houses before they could make any kind of move towards a future which they might share.

But only one thing was truly certain: if their relationship was ever discovered, this would all have been for nothing. Risks could no longer be chanced. To succeed they would have to bury their love way, way down and not touch it. Keep it like a small and dangerous secret hidden within each of them. Become enemies once more for the sake of a day when they could meet again as allies.

If they could achieve it, it truly would be glorious. There was no doubt of that. And yet finally Akira couldn't help the tears that fell. The coldness he felt before so many empty tomorrows that seemed to stretch out black and forbidding and lonely before him.

His breath became short as he clung to Kaede's broken and beaten body, both of them drenched in the misery of blood and parting, the realisations firmer and more awful in his mind every second.

Knowing that, in the end, it could be years before they would see each other again.

Kaede's grip on his arm weakened perceptibly. "The east," he murmured, so quietly that Akira had to bend closer to hear him. As he neared, Kaede's hand lifted and he brushed his three fingers across Akira's cheek lovingly, "and the sun."

Akira caught his hand and held it tightly, desperate to draw out these last few seconds before the plunging night was upon them once again. He wanted to reply. Wanted to scream. Wanted to yell that he didn't care. The rivalry, the houses, none of it mattered to him. All he wanted was Kaede at his side – as his companion, as his lover, never to be apart.

But Kaede's eyes had already slid closed and consciousness had silently left him, stealing away peaceful and unnoticed in his usual quiet way. He hadn't said goodbye, but then again it wasn't a goodbye, not really. Still, it felt like one.

Can I go forward when my heart is here?

Akira buried his face in the cool neck and took as long a breath as he could, inhaling Kaede's scent like it was a breath of oxygen even though he knew it could never last him. Even though he would be long starved of it well before the end.

He lifted his eyes and they came to rest on the bloodied kitsune-engraved gun which had fallen from Hisashi's hand. He stared at it for a long moment, and Hanamichi, who had been standing respectfully a little way away, went over to pick it up off the floor.

"I thought I'd lost you" Hanamichi admitted quietly, handling the deadly thing carefully, running his fingers across the engravings. "I really thought he pulled the trigger."

"He did," Akira recalled numbly, still clinging to Kaede's limp hand. "He did pull the trigger."

Hanamichi looked up and met his eyes in confusion. "But then… how..?" he trailed off and looked down at the gun again. His questing fingers squeezed the release for the cartridge, and it fell to the floor, releasing a load of tiny pebbles across the concrete in a pattering rush, forming a small splash gravel on the floor. Both Hanamichi and Akira stared in astonishment for a moment.

It was Hanamichi who broke the silence. "It was unloaded," he muttered in a bated hush. "The whole time, he never fired it because there were no bullets in it. He weighted it so Hisashi wouldn't realise."

"He dropped it on purpose too," Akira recalled the moment. "He already knew Kogure was dead."

Hanamichi looked over at him, eyes wide. "You mean he planned this whole thing? He knew it would end this way?"

Akira wet his lips. "Seems like it."

"He let them beat him up because he intended to frame us for this," Hanamichi realised abruptly. "He's made it look as if he was on Hisashi's side all along and that we were the ones who attacked and killed them. His injuries are bad enough that we'd leave him for dead, that's for sure."

Akira looked down at Kaede's face, and for the first time since the ordeal began he found himself smiling in simple awe at the strength and ability of the man he was lucky enough to call his lover. "Maybe we really can achieve this…" he realised with no small amount of wonder.

"Uniting the houses – fuck!" Hanamichi threw his hands up in the air. "You're both fucking insane."

Akira allowed himself a small laugh and with the back of his sleeve wiped tears and blood out of his eyes.

A distant noise of approaching vehicles reached their ears and they knew at last that their time here was out.

"Time to split" Hanamichi commented, tossing the empty gun through the air to his brother who caught it in surprise. "Here: spoils of war. I'm sure he'd want you to take it. Now let's get the fuck out of here."

Akira nodded, hiding the kitsune-engraved gun inside his shirt and turned back to Kaede for the last time. He lifted the cool, elegant fingers to his lips and kissed them softly.

"I love you" he promised. "I'll see you again."

And he believed it too.

Tis but thy name that is my enemy.

For Kogure Kiminobu strength had always been defined by violence. For Hisashi it had been manifested in pride. But for Akira, in the end, the greatest strength was simply the ability to keep walking despite the treachery and misery of the path before you. To live everyday alongside demons of despair and regret but not fall or falter before their temptations. If Kaede had taught him anything, it had been that.

So when he left that warehouse with its four bodies thrown so carelessly on the floor, three dead and one just clinging to life, he found that although each step felt like it was costing him more than he could possibly pay: he walked. Even though his heart was breaking: he walked.

Because he knew that even though the sun must always give way to night, it didn't mean that it wouldn't rise again. And he trusted in Kaede's mastery of the darkness enough to know that it was not yet - The End.

For never was a story of more woe

Than that of Juliet and her Romeo.

...

But weep not ye yet, shed not a tear,

Soil not pages of the master Shakespeare.

Though we needs leave them now in parting and sorrow,

Mankind conceals always blind hope for tomorrow.

So have faith, gentle reader, let lips pass not one sob,

For we prepare for you now a most glorious…

…epilogue!

(And if you see it so fit to review this fic,

I'll add in a hot little lemony bit!)