Sorry, I was really hoping I could get this up sooner, but I ended up having a lot more homework this break than I expected, and when you add that on with my violin, bassoon, and piano practice, you get . . . not a lot of free time. But I intend to keep my promise of updating everything! Even if I haven't started on some of it yet. Pray for me? :)

And there's really not as much action in this chapter as I would have liked, but I had to get this up quickly, and to be honest, this one is more of a build-up chapter than anything; in the next chapter, a few more plots come into full bloom, and of course, there's the perk of seeing Akaya sing. This is the second time I'm doing this to him, I think. (RikkaiDai Sleepover, anyone?)

"This really isn't my crowd," Fuji was saying. "I'm much more interested in the more classical styles, as I'm sure you can tell."

"Yes," was Yukimura's perfunctory reply. He was looking around; the room was awfully bright, and it hurt his eyes, but he supposed there was nothing he could do about that. He, after all, was the one who'd wanted to visit the rather—crude—shop in the first place, and he was going to stick with it. Akaya's reaction would be more than worth it.

It wasn't as if he had anything against the boy; he was probably just trying to please Niou, his boss; only Niou would have put him up to such a capricious task, but Yukimura decided he'd go with it. It was such fun, after all, and Niou could be rather intimidating.

But never to Yukimura.

Nobody could ever intimidate Yukimura; he was Yukimura.

Those three words were also a very viable explanation for why he was pulling the poor child along in the first place. For one, it was fun. For another, he was bored. And, of course, he was Yukimura.

He did like the way that sounded. "I am Yukimura," he said to himself, amused.

Those three words also explained why nobody gave him strange looks for talking to himself.

Fuji ignored his absent-mindedness and continued, "And I really don't like torturing people. I mean, I'm not sadistic or anything. Really. I'm a very kind person who donates to animal shelters occasionally." He considered that for a moment. "And not because they have all the very desirable equipment there that can put animals to sleep," he added thoughtfully.

Yukimura wasn't willing to buy that. "Of course," he said, smiling ruefully. "I suppose you like to kiss babies and smile for the camera, too."

Fuji waved the thought away. "I leave that to the models." He drifted away from Yukimura's side to examine a piece of lingerie. "This would work rather well for Akaya," he said thoughtfully. "Or for one of my models. It's nearly spring, and my new line will be coming out, soon. There's still enough time to modify it a bit.

"Don't second-guess yourself. You're a genius when it comes to this; and springtime is a time of innocence, not very opportune for lingerie. In any case, you'd poison the babies, Fuji," Yukimura responded easily.

The music in the shop grew louder, and Yukimura brought a hand to his ears. "What is this?" he asked, sounding annoyed. "It's not even Japanese."

Fuji shook his head. "This is an American shop," he reminded him. "It's really rather popular. Don't blame the Americans for the fact that you have such horrid tastes."

Yukimura gave him an offended look. "You have the exact same taste, Fuji."

Fuji smiled warmly. "Technicalities," he said dismissively.

A pretty and probably underage woman walked up to Yukimura and Fuji, the former smiling sweetly, and the latter not-so-sweetly. "Can I help you, gentlemen?" she asked warmly, in the manner a mother might ask if her children wanted cupcakes. "We've restocked just this morning, so I'm sure that everything will be to your tastes." She turned to Fuji and curtsied. "It was an honor modeling for you, sir."

Yukimura gave Fuji a look. Fuji might have kept up the angelic, sweet, flawless look for the public and the media, but the man was a tad loony and more than a tad sadistic; it astounded Yukimura how he'd managed to keep up such an impeccable image, and how the truth of his personality had yet to leak out.

It further amazed him how the majority of his clients were completely and utterly clueless.

Fuji tilted his head to the side and let out a breath that was half laughter, half sigh. "It was an honor to work with you, Akiza."

"If you're quite done with your flirting," Yukimura interrupted, "I'd really like to get back to scaring the wits out of Akaya."

The girl—Akiza—brought a hand to her lips in a dainty gesture of surprise. "You're Yukimura Seiichi!" She smiled brightly and bounded over to him. "Oh, I'm such a fan! You and your boyfriend are so adorable together!"

Yukimura considered correcting her, then settled for smiling charmingly. "Then would you help me, my dear?" he inquired. "You see…" He grinned wickedly. "My darling Akaya has some peculiar tastes. He just loves being frightened out of his mind, being completely disgusted and being prone to suicidal thoughts."

"A… masochist?" Akiza suggested. Her tone suggested that she had no true idea of what a masochist actually was, and had merely picked it up from one of her colleagues. Yukimura smiled. The girl reminded him of Akaya.

'Cept female. There was that to consider.

"Yes, that's the word," Yukimura agreed. "And being the wonderful boyfriend and faithful lover I am, I want nothing more than to help him. Would you assist me?"

Fuji leaned back and smiled, watching as Yukimura did his work. "You see," Fuji added, "Akaya likes to pretend he has a case of homophobia. It's a game they play. So basically, what we need is a way to… give him cause for that homophobia. You see what I mean? Anything that frightens him to the point of crying will do. And if you have a video camera, that'd be lovely. Not that I'd put it up on my blog or send it to the news station, or anything. Not at all."

Akiza smiled brilliantly, not finding Fuji's explanation creepy at all. "What a wonderful character," she trilled. "Oh, I'd love to help!" She grasped Yukimura's hand and pulled him in the direction of a small, dark room. "We have all of our special equipment here."

Yukimura took one glance inside and smiled slowly. He turned to Akiza and bowed. "Thank you, miss. This will be quite sufficient."

Marui giggled. "You're an idiot," he said, still giggling, and pointed a finger at Akaya. "You idiot, you."

Akaya had learned to ignore him, and focused on his newspaper. This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening, he chanted to himself. He was getting very, very good at keeping up delusions, and opted to tune out reality—at least for the time being.

After all, no one would willingly go out to lunch with Sanada Genichiro.

Unless they had a death wish.

Although, judging from Akaya's behavior as of late, he might as well have had one. Because, really, you don't go out with an international superstar and pretend you're gay unless you have a death wish.

You damn well don't end up engaged to them, either.

"What does he want to talk to you about?" Marui asked, still giggling girlishly. "This is going to be so sweet. I swear. You have to, like, bring a tape recorder with you or something."

"And let you put it up on the news? No way," Akaya mumbled, shoving the newspaper closer to his face.

Marui waved the thought away. "I'll let you do it, if you want," he offered, and smiled like he was offering Akaya a million dollars.

In a sense, he was; the person to put up a conversation between Yukimura Seiichi's boyfriend and his bodyguard was bound to earn viewers; and, as such, cash. But at the moment, Akaya was less than interested.

He was interested in finding a way out.

He'd kept up the charade for long enough; Niou was offering him his company, yes, and admittedly, that was an attractive prize. But Akaya wasn't so easily fooled by material offerings, and he was multi-talented; he played multiple instruments, had a degree in medicine, law, music, and design in addition to his degree in journalism, and, thanks to a multitude of rather . . . unexpected events, had friends in high places. He could have ditched the job in an instant.

But, admittedly, there was some part of him that was clinging to the magazine, to the company.

Maybe it was the chance of being a boss, of having control?

The secret desire to wield power?

The relatable want for blackmail material?

Marui giggled.

Or maybe it was the thought of making it out alive, and being able to punch Marui Bunta's face in.

True, Yukimura, Fuji, and Niou weren't people to be messed with.

But you don't laugh at Akaya without some kind of corporal punishment, either.

Marui was going to pay, damn it.

And Akaya was going to find a way to make him do so if it was going to be the end of him. Which it just as well might have been.

Sanada frowned, folding both arms across his chest. "Really, Yukimura," he said into the little microphone, carefully hidden within the folds of his shirt collar. "Is this necessary?"

"Of course," came Yukimura's slightly fuzzy voice. "You said you wanted to be a part of this relationship, didn't you?"

Sanada gave an exasperated sigh. "I said I wouldn't mind helping you wring his neck," he reminded him dryly. "You misinterpreted."

"You're awfully boring, Sanada. Did you hear about our eighteen-some?"

"Wasn't it a twenty-three-some?"

He could almost imagine Yukimura bringing a hand to his mouth and thinking carefully. "You know, I'm not quite sure. I'll have to ask Fuji later on. He's good at math."

"This has very little to do with math." And a lot more to do with Fuji's psychopathic tendencies.

"Details," Yukimura replied smilingly. "Remember the plan."

"I'd never forget," Sanada assured wearily, and promptly dropped the recorder, assuming a nonchalant look, as the Target—Kirihara Akaya—entered.

It wasn't a particularly famous restaurant; a small, recently opened one, with barely any business. Sanada wasn't the type of person to attend such a place; to attend any restaurant event, for that matter; he'd always been more of a homecooked-meal sort. But he supposed there wasn't much of an option at this point. Yukimura was a client second and a best friend first; and when your best friend asked you to invite his would-be boyfriend to a karaoke bar, you accepted, even if you really, really, really want to judo-chop said boyfriend.

Speak of the devil.

(Literally.)

A headful of curly black hair poked in, and slightly anxious green eyes scanned the row of tables, seeking out someone in particular. Sanada met his gaze unwaveringly. If this was what Yukimura wanted, so be it. Even if the demand was rather queer.

No pun intended.

Really.

"Kirihara," Sanada greeted calmly. "It's good to see you."

Kirihara's face was easily readable—it said, "Good to see you still know how to lie through your teeth."

"Good to see you, too," Kirihara replied flatly, and sat. "Is there a particular reason you called me here?"

Sanada folded his hands. Good, he was getting straight to business. Sanada supposed he could've been rather fond of this child had it been under—different circumstances. "There is," he acknowledged. "You see, Yukimura's hosting a . . . karaoke party."

Kirihara visibly cringed, but his voice didn't quaver when he said, "And am I to go?"

Sanada praised him mentally for his bravado. "You are," he agreed. "And after the party, Yukimura wishes to speak to you about the wedding plans."

Another cringe.

He went on, remembering the script that Yukimura had told him to recite, "He wants it to be a very big event. Everyone will be invited; and Niou and Marui will have excellent seats, rest assured. There will be several major newspapers there to capture the event . . . and of course, we'll have to invite your family."

The look of horror on Kirihara's face was very laughable.

"My . . . family?" He cleared his throat. "Ahem. My . . . family?" Then, all in one breath, he said, "Damn-it-my-sister-will-never-let-me-live-this-down!"

That's kind of the point. "That's a shame, Kirihara," Sanada acknowledged, fighting down his amusement. "But I'm sure Yukimura knows best." He left the seat, placing a check down. "I'm afraid I'll have to take an early leave, but I'm sure Yukimura only wants the best for you."

Kirihara looked too horrified to reply.

Sanada walked outside and entered his limousine. The moment they began driving, he let himself collapse into a fit of uncharacteristic chuckles; then he straightened up immediately. No one was ever going to catch him laughing, dead or alive.

Speaking of dead, Sanada thought, casting a quick glance back at the restaurant, where Kirihara was presumably still frozen as a rock and petrified. This is going to be rich.