Takashi wiped an imaginary tear as he slipped into his waiting car. "Such a lovely service, right Mizuo?" His silent partner nodded. "It's too bad Haru-chan had to miss it. It was his funeral, after all. Ah well, the job needed to be done." He motioned the driver to leave, relaxing against the seat. "How's he doing?"

"Any hesitation is gone," The male answered softly. "Another month or two of training and he could rival me."

Takashi grinned. "I knew he was a good choice. So much potential. And to think he was going to waste it on baseball." Picking up the briefcase that was lying on the ground next to his feet, he pulled out a white folder and flipped it open. "So long as he was able to complete his job like asked, we should be able to move forward with taking over the Nakamura group."

Tossing the file to Mizuo, he said, "Start the preparations for the takeover when we get back. Now that Haru-chan's dead, at least on paper, there's just one final step and he'll be mine completely." Takashi laughed to himself, heat pooling in his gut as he pictured his smallest acquisition. "I've waited so long, and finally he can be mine completely."

Stepping out of the car, he motioned one of his servants closer. "Tell Haru-chan I want to see him in my study when he gets back." Entering the house, he slipped his shoes off and made his way to the study. He had to prepare his end game for making the broken teen completely his after all.

Glancing at the clock, he nodded to himself. "Mizuo should be back by the time we're finished. I plan to take my time with Haru-chan."

Haruichi silently made his way to the study. Knocking, he waited for the acknowledgement before entering the room. Standing before the large desk, Haruichi wondered if he was getting another 'job'. As much as he didn't like these jobs he was sent on, he wanted to keep the one person who still cared about him happy.

He knew if he didn't comply, he'd be out on the streets with nowhere to go. He had no friends, and his family didn't care that he was gone. Nobody else would take him in like Takashi had, or help make him stronger to show that he wasn't weak and useless like everyone had thought. Nobody else would teach him how to take care of himself in the world that hated him.

Takashi had offered him a place to stay, food to eat, and kept telling him that he would always have a place to stay there. Haruichi was thankful, and in return soaked up the lessons he was given and learned to push aside his feelings and emotions while on the job. He wanted to please the man who gave him a reason believe there was someone who truly cared for him.

"Did you finish the job alright?" Takashi asked. It was always the first question he was asked when he got back.

"Yes."

"Were you hurt?"

"No."

"Good, good." The tall male stood up from his chair and came around to stand behind him. Haruichi wasn't sure what was happening, but Takashi hadn't hurt him yet. "Relax Haru-chan," He whispered, putting his hands on Haruichi's shoulders.

The would-be third year wondered what he was doing. Takashi normally sent him off after making sure he was alright, giving him the rest of the day to himself unless there was another job. He kept staring ahead, the breath on the back of his neck making his hair rise.

"Do you know," Takashi breathed, "How much I want you?" Haruichi felt his stomach knot. Takashi was the last person left who cared about him, but even so, he didn't want him to care about him that way. He swallowed nervously when the man's lips brushed his neck, one hand sliding down his arm.

"From the first moment I saw you," He continued, his voice barely a whisper, "I knew I had to have you. You were special." That word cut through the almost eighteen year old like ice. Takashi had always told him he was special, and that the others were idiots for not seeing it. He never thought this was what he meant.

The hand on his arm moved to his stomach, slowly sliding under his shirt. Haruichi felt his heartrate increase and tears prick the back of his eyes. This couldn't be happening. Takashi was the only person who cared. He couldn't be like the other. He couldn't be. If he was, then everything Haruichi knew, everything he'd trusted these past months had been another lie.

As the hand left on his shoulder started dipping down and Takashi pressed closer to him, Haruichi felt anger beginning to smolder deep inside his stomach. Was that all everyone thought? That he was only good for this? To be lied to and used and then tossed out like trash when they didn't have use for him anymore?

Was everything Takashi had told him a lie? To lead up to this? Had he made Haruichi do those horrible jobs, just so this would happen? Trembling in rage, he felt angry tears sliding down his cheeks. No. He didn't want this. He didn't want this. "Shh Haru-chan," Takashi whispered, licking the tears from his right cheek. The teen could feel his smile. "I won't hurt you. I'll take it slow. I promise."

Haruichi could feel the anger bubbling hot inside his stomach. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he slowly turned around, eyes downcast. He felt the male back away a little, hands coming to rest on his upper arms. Glancing up, he saw an amused smile on Takashi's face.

Haruichi let the rage burn and jerked his knee up, catching the older male by surprise. While the man stumbled and clutched his abused balls, he pulled out the black handled knife he'd been given when Takashi had started him on his jobs. 'A present. To help protect yourself from those who'd hurt you.'

'You said you'd never hurt me, but I guess you're just like the others. You've been just like the others this entire time. Damn it.' "I can't believe I trusted you!" Feeling more tears falling, Haruichi moved forward quickly and stabbed the knife into the older male's gut. Pulling it out, he flipped his grip and brought the knife down as hard as possible onto Takashi's head, feeling the bone break and the knife slide deeper into his brain.

Yanking it out, he stood panting at the lifeless body slumped to the ground. Rage still burning hot, he let out a scream and rammed the knife into the dead body again and again, more tears coming. He'd been stupid and blind. He'd let another person use him. He'd opened up to this man, actually believed that he cared. Falling to the floor next to the body, he curled in on himself and sobbed.

So now what's going to happen? Let me know what you thought!