Endless thanks to Irrelevancy for her hard-work in bringing this fic up to scratch and for patiently putting up with all my endless freaking-out over tiny things which have no real consequence in the larger scheme of things and which you probably won't even notice.

And many thanks to you, whoever may have read this story and enjoyed it even a little bit. You make it all worthwhile.

A Romeo and Juliet Story

Epilogue

Warnings: Wow, this is my first ever "lemon"! Rating of fic has been adjusted to M accordingly.

On a frosty day in January, the day of the winter's first snow, a man could be seen struggling up the driveway towards the Sendoh mansion. Cold flurries buffeted him as he battled onwards, coat whipping and lashing out behind him ceaselessly. He'd pulled his collar up as high as it would go and was hugging the warmth of his body desperately.

He passed the clipped trees already blanketed with an easy dusting of white and climbed unsteadily up the flight of white marble stairs towards the brightly glowing main door which opened for him as if he'd been expected.

He tumbled in through the doorway and into the warmth without words of thanks. The butler who had permitted him entrance looked astonished at his pitiful appearance.

"Takato-sama!" he exclaimed in surprise.

Even in his desperation, the man remained hopelessly proud. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he surveyed the butler who had addressed him.

"Find Taoka" he barked in irritation, "and get me some brandy. I've been shot."

In alarm, the butler immediately set two servants about the tasks of finding Taoka and contacting the doctor Ishizuka. As for the brandy, he would see to that himself. He helped the esteemed guest through into the grandest of the sitting rooms.

Once he'd removed his coat, the wound in Takato's side was revealed to be bleeding profusely. Minutes later Ishizuka arrived in the room with his doctor's bag, experienced with these types of emergencies, and assisted Takato in lying down on the sofa where he began to clean the wound carefully. Soon after Taoka appeared in the doorway, followed by a tall, capable-looking man who Takato recognised as Taoka's eldest son.

"Takato-san!" Taoka exclaimed in surprise, seeing the man sprawled out on his damask sofa, "what's happened? Where are your men?"

"All dead," Takato grunted from where he lay, "It's been a disaster."

Taoka gaped, "but how?"

Takato gave a noise like an impatient tsk, "As if you need to ask." He gave a sudden, short hiss as Ishizuka applied alcohol to the wound, and continued only when the discomfort had subsided. "I must return to Tokyo" he said. "I've lost too many men to this. God knows how I am going to justify myself to Maki-sama," he rubbed his hands over his face unhappily. "You should give it up, Taoka. We've lost this one."

Taoka stared at him desolate for a moment before falling heavily into one of the room's plush armchairs. Akira remained hovering silently by the door like a shadow.

"But it doesn't make sense," Taoka fretted to himself, "we had twice as many men!"

Takato pursed his lips and then shook his head. "The Rukawa house is led by a demon, Taoka."

Taoka remained silent, and after a long moment collapsed back into the armchair as if exhausted. There were a few minutes of heavy silence as Ishizuka finished bandaging up Takato's wound.

"It's been three years," Taoka rambled, half to Takato, half to the walls. "Three years since Anzai died but the Rukawa house has only grown stronger. All we've gained is losses. And that damn boy…" he paused in the misery of his contemplation.

"Not having a picture of him doesn't make it any easier," Takato grumbled. "There's not a single photograph to be found anywhere. Not even in the old newspaper clippings. He hasn't been seen in public for years. It feels like we're fighting a shadow. It messes with the mind." He shook his head. "I must return to Tokyo" he repeated, "this is a lost cause."

Taoka ground his teeth in agitation as if wanting to argue, but was forced to drop his head in concurrence. "I understand," he said dejectedly, "but will you stay here tonight?"

"Yes," Takato confirmed, "I'm sorry to come upon you unannounced but I must admit that even I have begun to fear for my life. I don't yet understand why I am still alive when all my men were slaughtered, but I feel almost like I'm being… hunted." A shudder ran through him, "I do not feel safe about returning to my base tonight. I will sleep here and return to Tokyo first thing tomorrow."

"Your wound requires continuous treatment," Ishizuka spoke up for the first time as he helped Takato up into a sitting position, "I cannot approve of you travelling so soon."

Takato waved his hand in dismissal. "If I stay any longer I fear I will end up just another of that kitsune's victims."

Away by the door, Akira started at the name. No one had called Kaede by his former alias for many years. It brought quite unexpectedly the past much too close to Akira for comfort, as if Takato had sprung a surprise assault on his psyche. To think of Kaede as Rukawa-sama was easier for him somehow. Rukawa-sama could be categorized as something distant and alien and foe-like. But kitsune was a name that caused a nasty stir of memories in his heart, and a clench of emotion in his gut.

Concerned that his sudden discomposure might be noticed, Akira turned away abruptly and left his father and Takato fretting together in the sitting room. They didn't notice him leave.

As Taoka had said, it had been three years. Three years since he had seen that face, those eyes. Three years trapped and uncertain while the loneliness ate away at him like acid. Three years standing by helplessly while the wily fox laid siege to his house, thwarting Taoka's every effort to maintain the balance, even straining the Maki-Sendoh alliance to the point of breaking.

Since his ascent the new Rukawa-sama had been both extraordinarily successful and extraordinarily reclusive. Few could boast of ever having seen his face. The Sendoh intelligence crumbled around him because Anzai had always treated him as little more than a mindless destructive machine and in turn the Sendohs had assumed him to be one. Only now were they beginning to fully appreciate how sharp his strategic mind really was, quite apart from the no less significant matter of his phenomenal skill in war.

There were some who had even come to believe that this phantom Rukawa-sama wasn't even real. Some theorised that Anzai's second son had died along with Hisashi and that the house had been usurped by the subordinate families and was now operated as a coalition. Akira sighed. It was true enough that Kaede might as well have been dead to him.

He met Hanamichi on the stairs.

"I heard Takato is here."

Akira nodded mutely, still distracted by the recent jolt of memories and the corresponding pain in his chest.

"What's the news?" Hanamichi pressed.

"His men were wiped out" Akira repeated disinterestedly, "and he's returning to Tokyo tomorrow."

Hanamichi gaped. "Are you serious? They were so confident about this one."

Akira shrugged and pushed past him on the way up to his bedroom. Hanamichi caught his arm fiercely.

"Hey!" he pressed. "You're not still thinking about… you know..." he trailed off and they both knew what he was talking about.

Irritated, Akira shrugged him off. "Doesn't matter if I think or not, there's nothing I can do."

Hanamichi held his gaze firmly. "I'm serious, Akira, I don't think you should wait for him. Since Anzai died the tension between the families has gotten worse, not better. He's in such a strong position now it doesn't seem likely that he'll… you know…" he dropped his voice to a secretive whisper "…return to you."

Akira bit his lip. "You're probably right" he conceded, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "He always was that kind of person. The kind ruled by sense and not by sentiment." He turned away and continued up the stairs. "Well, whatever."

Hanamichi watched him go, powerless as always to ease his brother's heartache.

I have a soul of lead so stakes me to the ground

I cannot move.

That night Akira's dreams were haunted again by Kaede. He saw his eyes, blue and piercing and cruel. He felt his touch; skeletal, blood-drained fingers like ice pressed to his cheek. Akira twisted and turned restlessly in his sleep. At one point he dreamt that Kaede was there in his room, but when he looked up and into those eyes they had turned red, fierce violent red, dripping blood like two gruesome lines of tears.

He woke up in the darkness in a sweat. The room was empty. Feeling angry with himself, he returned to sleep.

O teach me how I should forget to think.

It wasn't until several hours later that he was roused once again to wakefulness by the sound of someone hammering on his door. The room around him was still cast in the darkness of winter mornings and a glance at the digital alarm clock at his side revealed that it was just past six.

"The hell..?" he grumbled groggily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes before bidding whoever it was to enter. Immediately the head butler tumbled into the room in distress.

"What's going on?" Akira demanded sleepily, stifling a yawn.

"There's been a… a… an accident" the butler explained helplessly, practically wringing his hands in agitation.

"Accident?" Akira queried in confusion.

"Yes, in the main sitting room. Sendoh-sama I beg you come see to the situation as a matter of urgency."

His brow creased with confusion, Akira hauled himself out of bed wordlessly and, pulling a thick cotton bathrobe over his sleepwear, followed the butler out into the corridor. Not caring that he was somewhat under-dressed he stalked irritably through the house to the door of the sitting room, grumpy after his haunted dreams and interrupted sleep.

A group of five or six curious servants were gathered around the door, straining to look over each other's heads, but they moved quickly out of the way as Akira approached. Hanamichi came hurrying up behind him in a bathrobe of his own also looking decidedly sleepy.

"What the hell is this about?" he demanded, stifling a yawn.

Sparing his brother a bemused glance that communicated his equal lack of comprehension, Akira stepped inside the room and stopped short. Behind him he felt Hanamichi do the same.

The first thing he saw was blood. Not the bright, living liquid of his dream but dark and congealing puddles of putridity. Along with the sight came the smell. He could taste it metallic and sharp as if it were coated on his tongue.

The next thing he saw was the knife that had been left like a warning, stuck point down into the wooden floor so it stood erect and eerie like a tiny monument in the middle of the room. A threat, a warning, or a mark of victory.

And at the epicentre of the devastation were two bodies, lying on the floor like the discarded cocoons of the souls they'd once held; faces upwards, eyes staring wide at the ceiling, lips parted with their last futile breaths. Their necks had been cleanly slit, like a gruesome red smile cracked in their throats leaking globs and clots of dark red gore onto the plush carpet and into their lank and lifeless hair.

His heart pounding, Akira moved closer to confirm what he already knew. The dead men were Takato and Taoka.

His stomach churned violently, and before he could stop himself he turned to the side and heaved a throatful of vomit onto the carpet.

Feeling sick and shaken he stared with unfocussed eyes at the elegant papered wall before his face. Perhaps he should have felt many emotions. Horror, shock, fear, not least of all sadness, loss. Perhaps those things would come later, but for now only one thought chimed in his mind, horrifying him with its selfish insistence:

He was here.

But send him back.

Two months later, in the Eastern wing of the Sendoh mansion, a figure could be seen silhouetted against a window overlooking the grounds. It was dusk, so that the room was dark, but the sky outside was still faintly aglow with ghostly twilight. For minutes and minutes the figure stood still and silent, not moving an inch, watching the shadows creeping in the gloom. Despite the lateness of the day, his eyes were hidden by an opaque pair of dark sunglasses, as if the weak dusk light alone could pain him.

He didn't move even when he heard the sounds of people in the corridor outside the door. He didn't turn even when the door opened and two noisy chattering subordinates entered to see him standing alone in the darkening room. They didn't recognise him - of course they didn't - but immediately alarmed they addressed him with accusing questions, and still he neither moved nor spoke.

More voices now, more people attempting to enter the meeting room and demanding to know what the blockage in the doorway was about. He didn't hear the voice he was waiting for however, so he still did not turn away from the window, just an elegant statue causing untold confusion.

Finally he heard a voice that he at least recognised. It was as brash and irritating as usual as it fought its way to the front of the group.

"You!" it exclaimed in shock.

He made no acknowledgment, for one was not required. There was a stunned silence and then he heard that voice speaking quickly to those around him.

"Find Akira now," it said in a commanding hiss.

"But…" came a baffled protest "…Sendoh-sama is…"

"Now!"

There was the noise of running feet, and the visitor continued to gaze through the window as silent and still as before.

It took a few minutes but eventually the lights were switched on. His dark glasses preserved him from the need to blink in the room's sudden brightness. He didn't move at first, waiting still for the confirmation of that voice. He could hear Hanamichi's ragged breathing and the rustling and shuffling of the others that flanked them. His breath stilled. Moments dragged on unbearably, and the urge to turn and look nearly overcame him. But it was here, the anticipation so sweet that he almost never wanted him to speak.

"You're two months late," he said.

Just perfect.

He turned away finally from the view of the gardens and let his gaze fall on the man who stood on the opposite side of the long conference table. Just five feet of wood and air separated them and it was almost too much to bear.

"Forgive me." His voice was a whisper.

Akira stared at him for a moment before turning his head to speak to the curious group still gathered around the doorway. As he did so, the intruder took a moment to appraise his profile. Akira had changed. Much of the easiness had gone from his expression, his hair had been cut shorter to a more conventional, business-like style, and his brow was darkened with concerns and troubles. He frowned to see that, but was not surprised by it. He too had changed after all.

"Leave us" Akira told the onlookers, and they were immediate in their respect of him, pulling back out of the room. "Hanamichi, Uncle," he added, "stay for a moment."

Turning his attention back to his guest, Akira's hand lifted elegantly in an indication that he should sit, and he did so, settling himself in a seat at the very centre of the long table's opposing side. He folded his hands neatly together on the polished mahogany surface, the gap in his fingers disguised among the creases. Akira sat directly opposite him with Hanamichi to his left and a distantly familiar man to his right.

The visitor took a moment to peer with some curiosity at this third man, noticing his ageing frail frame, the drawn lines in his face, the grey in his hair. A familiar adversary from oh-so-many years ago. His name…? Yoku Myagi's voice rang as clearly in his memories as if he had been sitting in that cell only yesterday.

"Masaya Aida" he remembered, acknowledging the man with a tilt of his head. The man immediately looked puzzled.

"Forgive me" he replied uncertainly, glancing sideways at Akira as if for a cue, "But I'm not sure we've been introduced?"

The visitor made no reply. He resisted the urge to smile bitterly, and instead lifted his left hand to his black glasses, grasping the arm gently between thumb and finger. He hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes and sliding the shades smoothly from his nose. One second, two. Then, lifting his head in Akira's direction he opened his eyes.

Finally a reaction. Masaya leapt to his feet so quickly that the chair fell backwards to the floor.

"You!" he gasped in response to the vivid blue that could be neither disguised nor mistaken. The visitor held back another bitter smile though it tempted the corners of his lips insistently.

"Please sit down uncle," Akira said firmly, studying in curiosity the man who sat opposite him, no doubt in turn noticing the changes in him caused by these miserable lonely years.

"Sendoh-sama!" Masaya rambled as if in a state of shock. "Sendoh-sama, I must insist that you leave!"

Reluctantly Akira dragged his eyes away from his guest to focus on his distressed uncle.

"There's no need for that. Sit down uncle. I won't repeat myself a third time."

"It's dangerous! You can't stay. Don't you know who he…"

"I know exactly who he is."

"But he…"

The combined stares of Akira and Hanamichi caused Masaya to hesitate. He seemed to notice that he was the only one standing in the room, the only one reacting with panic, and after an awkward moment, he bent slowly to retrieve his chair, regaining a little of his composure, but suspicion still obvious in his face.

Akira's eyes returned irresistibly to the far side of the table. He wanted to say something, just his name would do, but it seemed that his mouth was too dry for words. For a long moment he could do nothing but stare, struggling intensely with himself, with the anticipations and apprehensions and raw panting desperation that rose within him.

"Kaede" he managed to whisper numbly, a name that had filled his heart but not passed his lips in three long years.

Kaede tilted his head slightly as if straining to catch the sound of his own name, eyes fluttering briefly closed. Then he spoke. "Three years ago," he began quietly, in the manner of a man who didn't need to raise his voice in order to be heard, "we made an agreement, Sendoh-san. I am here to ask whether or not the agreement still stands."

Akira realised that his hands were shaking. He hesitated for a few moments and then unsteadily rose from his chair.

"Sendoh-san?" he echoed, "is that what you would know me as?"

Kaede stared peaceably up at him. "Akira," he corrected himself without protest.

Akira closed his eyes. He took a breath through his nose and released it through his mouth. He opened his eyes again.

"Yes, it still stands."

"Agreement?" Masaya demanded, also rising to his feet once again. "What agreement? What the hell is this about?"

"It's quite simple" Hanamichi muttered softly to his uncle. "They've agreed to a ceasefire. They want to form an alliance."

An alliance. The words sounded like a heartbeat. Felt like a dream.

Kaede caught Akira's eye and stilled, seeing something in his intense gaze that stirred him. They watched each other across the table, earnest untold meaning in their stare.

Oblivious to their shared moment, with the colour draining rapidly from his face, Masaya stared at Hanamichi in disbelief. "But that's ludicrous" he spluttered, "Impossible." He turned away from Hanamichi to address Akira instead, "Sendoh-sama, please explain."

"As Hanamichi says," Akira replied dismissively, eyes still locked with Kaede's.

More confused than ever, Masaya turned his disbelieving eyes upon the only other occupant of the room. He found his eyes were drawn to the shadow of an old scar that snaked across his cheek and his unease only increased at the sight of it.

"Sendoh-sama," he continued feverishly, staring at Kaede with nothing short of horror as if he were some kind of animated corpse, "I'm afraid I must insist. I don't know what he's said to bewitch you, but you must leave at once. We can't trust this… this…" he flailed, "…this murderer. He's your enemy. I even believe he…" his voice dropped to a whisper and he spoke with serious urgency, eyes wide with meaning "…I think he is the one who killed your father."

Kaede sighed and dragged his eyes away from Akira, "I can't indulge in this argument at the moment," he replied levelly, neither confirming nor denying Masaya's accusations. "While I am here let me put down my offer. You may discuss my crimes and merits at your leisure later."

Masaya fell into mystified silence while Akira nodded for Kaede to continue.

With all attention focused expectantly on him, Kaede sat back and folded his arms with calm confidence. "My offer is this: If Sendoh Akira will agree to become the leader of the proposed alliance, I will provide him with full control over my house and its resources, full command of my skills such as they may be, and of course my most ardent loyalty."

"And what do you expect in return?" Hanamichi queried.

Kaede looked over at him. "Just that" he clarified. "Sendoh Akira at the head of the alliance. That is my only demand."

There was a stunned silence.

Akira leaned forwards, his eyes wide in concern. "But… wouldn't a joint leadership be more appropriate?"

"There must be one leader," came Kaede's immediate and uncompromising reply. "And it must be you."

Akira leaned back in his seat again, digesting this seemingly odd request. It was true enough that shared leadership would not be ideal, only serving to encourage divisions of loyalty among members, but still Akira wasn't sure that he was the one who should take on the central role. After all, it had been Kaede who had brought them here, to this point. It had been Kaede's skill that had made this even possible.

"Why do you want Akira to lead the alliance?" Hanamichi demanded.

Kaede made no reply, though there was something of impatience in his stare, as if he deemed the issue unworthy of discussion. Akira stared at him blankly for a second, trying to see the paths by which he had come to this conclusion.

Full responsibility for the entire alliance was by no means a small request. It would entail responsibility for two families, two businesses, two sets of probably never-ending feuds, and the pressure of managing of a political bombshell just waiting to explode. It would require him to win the respect and loyalty of the members of the Rukawa house, including the heads of its highest and most influential families such as the Akagis and Myagis, who were each hardly less imposing than Kaede himself. And all this despite being tainted with the stigma of being a Sendoh.

Yet more, and perhaps most daunting for Akira, was that Kaede would become his subordinate. He would be in receipt of a most deadly weapon of untold potential – that fearsome kitsune. It would be on Akira's shoulders to put Kaede's unique and dangerous abilities to use, and to keep at bay the endless demons that hounded his conscience. To accept responsibility for Kaede's soul… could he really cope with that?

He toyed momentarily with the idea that as leader of the alliance he could end the kitsune once and for all, set Kaede free from his chains by forbidding him to kill again. But he knew the next moment that it was only a naïve wish. Though the romantic in him wanted to become Kaede's saviour, he knew that Kaede was not asking for his protection. Knew that Kaede expected so much more of him than that.

So he dismissed the idea, and was left once again with the vision of the yawning chasm of the future he'd have to struggle against.

But the more he considered what being a leader of the alliance would involve, the more he came to see that Kaede was right. It had to be Akira who did it. Wasn't that his greatest strength? His leadership, his business-sense, his authority? And no matter what stigmas he would be operating under, there was no doubt that Kaede's reputation was far, far worse.

It might have been on Kaede's strength that they'd come to this point, but from now on it could only be on Akira's skill that they would continue. He saw that now. He saw what Kaede was expecting of him, and how he would repay his debts to the young Rukawa leader.

"Is it even possible?" he couldn't help but query softly.

Kaede held his gaze, hesitating slightly as if despite everything even he could not be sure. "I'll be beside you," he reassured finally as compromise.

Akira closed his eyes for a moment, feeling apprehension welling inside him though he fought to quash it down. But then, bringing Kaede's fierce and steady gaze to the forefront of his mind he felt a strange contentment. He hadn't even realised how much he had forgotten. Yes, he'd most definitely forgotten this. This marvellous ease, this rolling confidence that only Kaede caused in him. The feeling of being two sides of one coin, countering and complimenting each other so perfectly.

He opened his eyes again.

"Then…" he said with a small nod, "...I will accept your offer."

For this alliance may so happy prove,

To turn your households rancour to pure love.

"But… it makes no sense!" Masaya protested, "Sendoh-sama you shouldn't trust this-"

"Will nothing satisfy you, old man?" Kaede finally rose from his seat, his expression turning black as he looked down on this stubborn obstacle, his irritation adding menace to his words. Masaya's body tensed and he moved his hands nervously, pursing his lips in concern, feeling the intensity of Kaede's displeasure like a wave.

"There's no proof" he contended bravely, though his voice swayed slightly with nervousness, "that you are genuine in your words."

Kaede glowered at him displeased before turning silently on his heel and moving gracefully around the long table to join them on the far side.

He drew nearer and nearer, coming the closest he had in years, and Akira felt a deep thrill, his heartbeat speeding up perceptibly. He expected Kaede to approach Masaya, but instead the boy stopped directly behind Akira's chair.

"Stand up, Akira" he requested evenly.

A little confused, clueless to Kaede's intentions, Akira did as asked and turned to meet those blue eyes. The two boys stood facing each other, eye to eye, silent and appraising, both of them tense, both of them suddenly all too aware of each inch of their own trembling bodies: each rush of breath they took, the way their shoulders rose and fell, the way their hearts chimed.

"Let this be your proof" Kaede said, his eyes flickering in challenge towards Masaya.

Akira's breath stilled in anticipation. What would Kaede do? Would he perhaps lean forward and kiss him? Here? Right in front of Masaya and Hanamichi? His heartbeat hammered in his chest.

But Kaede didn't make the forward motion of a kiss. Instead he gave an elegant dip of his head, a slight twist of his shoulders, every inch of him as poised and graceful as a dancer as he dropped silently to his knees. His long artistic fingers placed tip to tip on the carpet before him, perfectly aligned and perfectly symmetrical except for the gap where two digits were missing. He arranged himself so carefully and so elegantly, each of his motions deliberate and clear, that Akira was momentarily too entranced by the delicate beauty of it to realise its significance.

Finally a tilt of his head and his hair fell alluringly over his eyes. Kaede leaned forward, each action elegant perfection, and with flawless serenity, touched his forehead to the floor at Akira's feet.

"Sendoh-sama," he said softly.

Both Masaya and Hanamichi had eyes as wide as saucers. Akira seemed too stunned to react.

"Please accept my life to utilise or forfeit as you see fit," Kaede continued softly. He lifted his head from the floor only enough to reach behind him and pull a short blade from somewhere at his waist.

Akira had to bite down on his tongue to resist the temptation to stop him. It was unbearable to see Kaede prostrate himself before him but, he knew from a flickering glance at Masaya, it was also going to be necessary as the prelude to everything that would follow.

Kaede made an elegant show of scoring a shallow line across his left palm, a thin track of blood blossoming there alongside an old scar from the same ritual performed years ago.

With the action complete, Kaede stayed in his bowed posture, still offering his wounded hand upwards for inspection, waiting for the instruction to rise. The entire room watched him in disbelief.

"That's the Rukawa initiation" Masaya whispered in astonishment into the silence.

Akira looked over at him. "Does it satisfy you?"

Masaya seemed incapable of answering for a moment. "No Rukawa would make light of his own traditions," he finally acknowledged breathlessly.

Akira nodded. "Good. We'll discuss our ongoing plans another time. Do not disclose any part of this meeting to anyone. We must move very carefully from here. You may leave us now."

Before Masaya could make any protest, Hanamichi had placed a hand on the man's back and, standing, guided him firmly towards the door. The redhead threw an encouraging smile at Akira as he pulled the door closed behind him, finally leaving the two young leaders to their well earned privacy.

Two in one.

Kaede had not moved from his position on the floor, even as the door closed he made no motion to stand. Akira began to realise that the vow had not simply been for show but something in which he placed real value. It was, as Masaya had said, a part of the traditions his family had obeyed for generations and he had been entirely sincere in his performance of it.

"Kaede…" he began awkwardly, "…please stand up." It felt awful to look down on him. Every drop of Akira's soul contended fiercely against the unnatural position of authority it had become necessary for him to assume.

The muscles in Kaede's tense back relaxed but he didn't obey immediately. Instead, with a neat twist of his hand he cleaned the blade of his knife with a crisp white handkerchief, both the knife and the cloth vanishing into the folds of his clothes before he rose back to his feet, eyes remaining fixed on the floor.

He seemed so serious that Akira was momentarily unsure how to approach the situation. The strangely shifted power-balance was hopelessly awkward for both of them.

They both wanted to fall back into where they had been before, but both knew that there were new distances drawn between them that were once again so difficult to cross.

Being in the same room as each other in the presence of others had been weird enough. Theirs had always been a relationship of great secrecy. Even to simply allow their eyes to meet when there were others who might notice seemed somehow rash, almost dangerous. It was instinct that closed them down, and their coolness towards one another was the reason that Masaya Aida left that room without the slightest inkling of their true relationship. But now that the door had clicked closed, it was even weirder.

Akira's mouth felt drier. His heart was fluttering more weakly. His stomach felt positively ill.

The sight before him was a familiar one. He'd seen it before. Kaede's head dipped and avoiding his eye, looking resolutely at the floor. An unnatural meekness. That show of subservience. A suggestion of timidity in his posture.

But Akira knew it for what it was: an illusion.

Instinct born of Kaede's self-loathing. Something that whispered like demons in his ear that his strength, his skill, himself were things of which he should be ashamed.

With one finger, Akira lifted Kaede's chin and peered into his face. As he had expected, there was no blush on his cheeks, and no evidence of uncertainty in his eyes. The boy was made of iron. Strong beyond belief. And though to Kaede it seemed a curse, to Akira he was perfect. Every scar on his heart. Every shadow over his soul. Even the tattered part of him which craved surrender, craved humiliation, relished in the sensation of being defeated, was a part that Akira cherished tightly. All the more so because that was the part of Kaede that belonged exclusively to him. The part that only he had seen.

And seeing him now, trying to hide, trying to pretend to be other than what he was, lost among his own feelings of inadequacy, Akira understood it. Understood him.

He understood what his childhood had done to him, how the kitsune had broken him, how much he had lost. He even understood that such powerful self-hatred had only spared Kaede his life because his life had never been his own to take.

He knew why Kaede needed to feel out of control, needed to answer to another, needed for someone to cage him in. He understood that Kaede had finally killed Taoka out of sheer desperation: that he simply couldn't have outrun his demons any longer, he had run out of time.

He knew him. Knew him and loved him all the more for the sorry state of his splintered soul.

And knowing all that Akira allowed a smile to touch his lips. He raised a hand to tilt his chin up slowly, bringing them breath to breath. Kaede stilled, his breathing becoming swallow in reaction to the closeness they hadn't shared in so long.

"You…" Akira muttered, staring into the fierce blue eyes now only inches from his own. He moved his hand over the line of his jaw, just a delicate feather touch to which Kaede couldn't help but incline his head slightly, a secret invitation, a silent little plea. Akira felt his body tremble slightly with the anticipation, pooling his hand at the back of Kaede's neck, preventing escape as he breathed out through his mouth.

"I…"

He pulled Kaede ever so slightly closer, feeling the warmth of him, the scent of his skin, feeling his nerves tingling with it all.

"Kaede…" he whispered, the name alone a breathy kiss, a trembling in his throat, the distance between them closing in the tiniest of increments. He felt almost afraid, as if the anticipation would overshadow the thing itself, but it wasn't so.

The first touch was nothing more than a chaste brush of lips and it seemed to Akira that Kaede's lips were even softer than his memories had rendered. His breath was sweeter, more innocent, a delicate swirl of honey and cream.

Akira tightened his hold on the back of his neck, pulling him closer still. The whole world was this moment. Everything, the entire elongated conversation, the years apart, their brief time together, were nothing but a prelude to this. Kaede became weak in his arms as Akira explored his fears and half-held hopes, filling him with warmth and welcome.

As their actions increased in intensity, the kiss spiralling down deeper into their pooled desire, Akira began to nudge Kaede back towards the table and he went willingly. When Kaede had run out of room to retreat before Akira's weight, their tongues twisted together more hungrily, more fiercely until they were both dizzy with it.

Akira heard Kaede moan as he pressed his free hand between clothed thighs, forcing them open and filling the gap between them with his own body in an effort to bring them ever closer. A futile wish to fully eradicate the distance between their two pounding hearts. His hands roamed over Kaede's shoulders, his back, his neck, and smiled as he felt Kaede surrendering himself to the sensation of his possession.

He caught his fist in Kaede's hair and pulled him backwards, unbalancing him so he leant back on his hands, nails seeking purchase on the smooth table top. Akira followed him hungrily, not allowing their shared heat to break apart for even a moment.

He kept Kaede trapped, pressing him ever backwards, surprising even himself with the ferocity of his desire to exert his claim over Kaede's body. Just a second to pull back and suck in a hungry gasping breath and then they were pulled under again. Lost under the rip curling waves of their shared desires.

Kaede was too dazed by it to notice how Akira used a foot to hook the leg of a chair and drag it near, nor even the gentle fumbling at his belt and waistband. It was only when Akira finally broke away from the kiss that Kaede was left to moan softly his breathless complaint.

"Shhh," Akira hushed him gently, dropping back to sit in the chair he'd pulled over, two hands vanishing into Kaede's now parted fly directly before him, seeking impatiently for the hot heat hidden under the cotton, pulling it free as Kaede looked down on him dazedly with hooded eyes.

He wondered what Kaede felt then – whether it was the familiar rise of panic, the urge to bolt, to deny, how his body struggled at the sight of Akira's parted lips. He wondered whether to Kaede it was something frightening or something welcomed. The rush of Akira's breath on his skin, their eyes meeting briefly. Was it too much to bear? Akira watched keenly for his reaction and took him long and slow into his mouth. He felt nothing less than triumphant when Kaede threw back his head and moaned.

The noise was one of complete abandon, so rare, so unique, so unlike Kaede that Akira shivered with it. Kaede's hands fisted in his hair as he gasped and shuddered, allowing himself to become totally lost for once in the sensations of the moment, begging Akira with his hisses and mews to move ever faster, squeeze ever tighter. Akira let his hands side around under his heated body, playing delicately about the small entrance there, stroking it and wiggling against it, letting Kaede ride on his shame, squirming desperately until with a final cry he curled his body forward, bringing up his knees, embracing the warm head between his thighs almost protectively as he released his humiliation in shuddering ecstasy down Akira's throat.

Then, drained and weak, Kaede fell back onto the table top, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

Akira rose slowly from his chair and looked down at the boy who lay so helplessly on his conference table. He was almost drunk with the vision as he pulled off his shirt and crawled onto the table over him knee by knee.

Kaede's eyes didn't open even as Akira worked gently to open the buttons of his shirt, pushing it aside to reveal his smooth chest, slim and fast and sinewy. His hands moved over the now quietened body exploratively, relearning the shapes of him, appreciating the lines and contours that made up his strength, finally brushing against the holster that looped over his shoulders.

Reaching deeper Akira took a grip on the gun that hid there. It felt hard and warm and dangerous in his hand. Kaede made no protest as he tugged it out of its holder and stared down at it. Then, with an easy gesture, he tossed it casually aside. Further exploration revealed two elegant knives at Kaede's waist which were set down by the gun before Akira returned his full attention to Kaede's body, feeling once again the rush of emotion that came from knowing that this deadly creature belonged to him.

Acting on his possessive impulse he gifted him with teasing kisses, making his way up towards Kaede's neck where he caught a fold of flesh in his mouth and sucked on it hard. Kaede finally moved, hissing softly and arching his back, turning his head to offer the full length of his neck to Akira to mark.

Akira continued his bite, determined to stake a claim on what he'd been forced to keep secret for so long. When he drew back, Kaede opened his eyes and Akira kissed his lips long and deep in apology, leaving the boy utterly breathless.

Taking advantage of his continued vulnerability, Akira caught his fingers in Kaede's waistband and with a smooth motion pulled trousers and briefs down together, leaving the boy entirely naked before his eyes. He drunk in the sight of him thirstily, almost unable to believe that he was really here. That they were really doing this.

He'd never seen Kaede bare in the light before – their few earlier experiences had always occurred in the secretive dark of the night time. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of that perfect body.

Discarding the last of Kaede's clothes to the side, he moved down to look for the small circular scar that marked the front of Kaede's knee right. He kissed it lightly and lifted his eyes to seek for the other. Identical to the first, a small splodge of scarred skin that formed a vaguely circular shape a little way to the left, below his navel. Akira kissed that mark too before moving up still further, taking Kaede's chin between his fingers and tilting his head gently to examine the final scar that cut into his cheek.

Akira ran his tongue affectionately over it, starting at the outward edge and moving inwards along the scar's length until he was touching Kaede's lips which parted invitingly for him. He delved inside, slower, more powerfully this time, stroking Kaede's tongue with his own, drawing it out, causing the boy beneath him to shudder and squeeze his eyes closed helplessly.

Reaching down between them, Akira turned his fingers to his own clothing, hooking the buttons and opening them efficiently. Hungry, seeping wetness had already soaked a considerable patch into his cottons.

The last time we did this he recalled silently, I never thought we'd be able to do it again.

Kaede's silent response to his momentary pause was to push Akira's hands away and wrap his own softly around Akira's straining heat.

"Ah!" Akira hissed in gratitude and closed his eyes at the sensation. Kaede's fingers were long and firm and cool, gently stroking down his skin, his single thumb drawing circles at the tip, picking up the seeping beads of wetness and spreading them over the head.

Kaede moved his hands along Akira's length pleasantly and Akira allowed him to continue for some time, hips rocking with the pleasure. But as he felt his arousal mount he reached down to pull Kaede's grip away. Moving his hands soothingly around his thighs, up under his knees, Akira's lifted his slim body until his legs were looped causally over his shoulders. Then he paused.

Kaede's stare was brim full. Too much for Akira to decipher.

"Kaede…" he began but paused. He wanted to say something, something meaningful, something poignant but couldn't. No words were coming to him. They were moving in an eloquent silence together. He was filled with nothing but the sound of his name and the splendour of his body. There were no words for this.

This will hurt him he finally realised, knowing they didn't have anything to lubricate their joining but knowing they couldn't stop either. He felt Kaede's fingers mesh in his hair and drag him closer as if for another kiss, but stopping with their lips millimetres apart.

"Are you afraid?" Kaede finally whispered in the face of his hesitation.

Akira froze.

"Of pain, of death…" Kaede's words brushed over him like a spell, "…of love?"

Akira focused his eyes on him. "I'm not afraid."

"Then…" Kaede's tongue lapped appeasingly at his parted lips, causing him to shiver, "…master them."

Squeezing his eyes closed, Akira moved forward.

He had been expecting Kaede's hurt, but not his own. Kaede's tense body was like a rough grip around him. It was raw and forceful and painful, but he didn't pause. He looked down to see Kaede's reaction, seeing that he endured equal pain though no sound passed his lips and no protest was forthcoming. When, despite the harshness of their union, Kaede parted his legs further in encouragement, Akira forced himself as deep as he could bear before stopping, gasping, unsteady with equal measures of hurt and arousal.

Kaede's fingers pattered trembling over his forearms until they gripped his shoulders and the boy let out a long open mouthed sigh. Akira felt him relax his desperate grip on him through sheer force of will. He drew back before moved inwards again – it was easier this time, a slide rather than a force. He relaxed a little in turn.

But next time he drew back he looked down and realised that the increased ease of his movements was due in part to the smoothing effect of Kaede's blood.

"Kaede?" he worried, stopping his motions immediately.

"Move" came the soft demand, Kaede's eyes still squeezed closed, the effort of his self-control standing out in sweat on his brow.

"But you're bleeding."

"Doesn't matter."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"…please. Just… please..."

Akira hesitated for a moment longer, before pushing back in, hearing Kaede gasp with pain and gratitude.

As he continued to move, in, out, long and slow, with Kaede writhing beneath him, Akira was once again awed by this ocean of a soul that was his lover. Dark parts and twisted places tempered with the capacity for great care, the ability to cry, the audacity still to dream. And this. This. Pleasure and humiliation. All together. Pain, death and love. The greatest way to be alive. The only way he could bear the weight of his own guilt, tempering it with pleasure-ridden destruction.

Akira shuddered and moved deeper, harder, forceful and unrelenting, in turn feeling Kaede wrap his limbs around him desperately, clinging to him like a support in a whirlwind, gasping his name with both distress and unadulterated adoration.

Akira forced his way thrust after thrust, not hesitating, not slowing, showing no mercy. He did it because he understood that Kaede wanted it, needed it so much more than he needed sloppy comfort or sympathy. He did it because he wanted Kaede to feel alive. He did it because Kaede was begging him to.

Finally Kaede let out a cry, mournful and beautiful, quivering under Akira's overthrow as he collapsed in upon himself, spilling over his own chest, his sudden clench of muscles prompting Akira to do the same with an equally loud exclamation of blinding pleasure.

He fell forward over him, still pinning him down, shuddering with the aftershock of his intense release. As they remained there, frozen in place, the room that had become so concentrated around them suddenly seemed larger again, more quiet and still, filled awkwardly with the sound of their rasping breaths.

Still, they didn't speak. They didn't need to. Akira dropped sideways alongside Kaede and they lay together on the hard and uncomfortable table top in exhausted silence for a long while.

It was Kaede who finally moved first, lifting himself with a wince into a sitting position, nursing his back where it had rubbed against the wood and ignoring the trickles of blood from between his thighs. Akira looked up in him in concern.

"Are you…?"

"I'm fine" he let out a harsh jagged breath.

Akira sat up beside him and instinctively pulled him into a warm embrace, skin on skin, causing Kaede to stiffen uncomfortably. Akira ignored his reaction and simply buried his nose in his hair, adoring him, every inch of him.

"A part of me was afraid this day would never come. I'm glad. So glad to… see you to… have you, here, like this."

Hearing his words, Kaede hesitated before shifting slightly and, with a little awkwardness, rested his head against Akira's shoulder. Akira beamed silently to the wall in response to this tiny loving confession.

They reminded leaning against one another for some time, but after a while Akira's mind turned to their other matters of concern and ran his hands over Kaede's bare back thoughtfully.

"Tomorrow" he began "I will come to the Rukawa mansion with Hanamichi. Can you arrange a safe entrance for us?"

Kaede nodded silently.

"We're going to have to move quite slowly," Akira continued softly, musing to himself, looking up at the ceiling, mind deep in planning, "The rivalry is not going to be washed away overnight. It will probably be best to invent some simple collaborative ventures to bring a greater feeling of cooperation first. Then we must reign in and ensure the obedience the larger factions."

"Using force?"

"Not at first. Their loyalty will be of more value than their fear, and harder won too. But…" he stroked Kaede's hair absentmindedly, "I'll need your help to stem any outright rebellion if it occurs."

Kaede nodded silently.

Akira looked down at him and suddenly saw him with fresh eyes. The sole owner of the Rukawa estate, not even twenty years old and already one of the largest drug barons in Japan. Dangerous assassin, tactical genius, that formidable Rukawa-sama who, over the past three years, had managed to bring the house of Sendoh almost to its knees.

This unassuming and fair skinned boy, a little skinny, a little small, like a plant that never saw enough light.

His formidable business partner.

His vulnerable lover.

Impulse made him smile at Kaede, hoping against hope that in the following years he might be able to raise even a single node of peace amongst the wreckage of Kaede's split soul. Hoping in turn that perhaps Kaede would do the same for him.

Tentative fingers meshing uncertainly in his hair made him pause and focus on the nearby blue eyes.

"Akira…" his voice was softer and gentler than a passing breeze, but though his lips parted as if to say more, nothing came out. Akira watched Kaede struggle with himself for a while, fond amusement gathering in his eyes before he leaned down and solved his partner's discomfort with a soft, chaste kiss.

"I know" he replied.

For no more

Can I demand.

THE END.

-complete - 3rd April 2011

-updated - 28th dec 2018

In case you are interested, here are the songs which inspired and in so many places wrote this story for me (I bolded the most important ones!):

Angels (Within Temptation)- Chapter 11 (Kogure's suicide)
Animal I Have Become (Three Day's Grace)
Assassin (Muse)
Bitter Glass (Feeder)
Clowns (TaTu)
Cosmic Love (Florence and the Machine) – Akira/Kaede light/dark theme
Crawling (Linkin Park)
I'm Yours (The Script) – Epilogue (Kaede's song for Akira lol awwww!)
Incomplete (Backstreet Boys) – Epilogue (Akira's life without Kaede.)
Invincible (Muse) – Chapter 10 (Akira's I-don't-give-a-fuck-anymore attitude)
The Last Song (X-Japan) – Chapter 10 (the last moment of peace)
Lightning Rod (The Offspring)
Map of the Problematique (Muse) – Akira's theme!
Numb (Linkin Park)
Open Your Eyes (Snow Patrol) – Epilogue (meeting each other again)
Race Against Myself (The Offspring)
Rebirthing (Skillet)
Resistance (Muse) – The fic theme!
Sweet Sacrifice (Evanescence)
Time of Dying (Three Days Grace) – Chapter 12 (I swear I listened to this non-stop the entire time I was writing. Days and days and DAYS.)
Undisclosed Desires (Muse) – Chapters 8 + 9 (another non-stop loop-fest)
Who Wants to Live Forever (Queen)
日以繼夜 (AT17) – Kaede's theme (alternative)

And finally Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet whose pages I have poured over for inspiration.

X

10 years in conception. 2 years in writing. Now this is finally finished, I mostly wonder what the hell am I going to do with myself now?