Because, let's face it, Marui singing soul/hip-hop/R&B is hot.

And also. If Aka-chan is a nutcase, wouldn't his family members be a little crazy, too? Well, maybe not the adults, but the sister. Older sisters are always a little crazy. I should know. :) Well, I'm an older cousin, technically, but it counts!

And! If you guys remember, Fuji mentioned something about starring in a film, a few chapters back. That comes into play here. More so in the next chapter, but just keep it in mind.

"Say Aah" by Trey Songz is not mine. ;)

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

And then there was the sound of Marui humming some inexplicably catchy tune, making weird arm gestures, and nodding his head to the beat.

Akaya groaned inwardly in annoyance and leaned further back in the seat. The air pressure was getting to him—and then there was all the time zone stuff. "For the love of all that is holy, stop that," Akaya hissed.

"Whaaat?" Marui complained. "It's stuck in my head, too!"

"Well, keep it in your head and out of mine," Akaya muttered, grabbing a bottle of champagne and popping off the cork.

They were on a private jet, presumably Fuji's, since he was the one hosting the party in the first place. At the moment, Akaya and Marui were the only two people on the jet—Fuji and Yukimura were already in New York. According to the pilot, the plane was set to stop by California and Colombia, where Yagyuu and Niou were, respectively. Akaya supposed that Yagyuu was in California for business—but what the hell was Niou doing in South America?

"Someone's being cranky," Marui teased. "What's wrong? Afraid of seeing your boyfriend again, after all these weeks of freedom?"

Akaya thought he heard the pilot giggle.

"No, I'm not scared," Akaya spat, and folded his arms like a petulant child. "Am I supposed to look forward to a twenty-foursome? Fuji said we'd be doing it on the floor, Marui. Does that sound fun to you?"

"Yes, actually," Marui piped up. "And it's Marui-san. Show some respect for your elders."

"You're one year older than me and about ten years less mature," Akaya said moodily, and stared out the window. They'd left Japan barely an hour ago. He'd never had to leave the country for business trips before, but he supposed he'd have to get used to it. The rides were twenty hours long, though! How was he supposed to survive twenty hours of Marui humming some stupid song?

"And we don't buy no drinks at the bar," Marui sang under his breath. "We pop champagne 'cause we got that—"

"Oh my god," Akaya muttered, taking a swig from the champagne bottle. "Shut up."

Marui watched him down half the bottle. "That's real dignified, Akaya." Then he grinned wickedly, and sang at the top of his lungs, "Go girl, it's your birthday, open wide, I know you're thirsty, say ahhh!"

Akaya almost spat out the champagne. "First of all, no, it's not my birthday, and no, I'm not a girl. Second of all, what?"

Marui looked surprised. "You actually understand the lyrics?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"'Cause you suck at English?"

"I can't be president of Lys Corp without knowing English!" Akaya pointed out, insulted.

"Psh, you're just really bad at it." Marui laughed. "Your English is awful. Your French, Spanish, and German are amazing, but your English is atrocious. Anyway, it's the song I'm supposed to release next," Marui explained. "It fits my image, and since that Usher song was such a big hit, they thought they'd do another American one."

Akaya snorted. "What, were your original songs complete failures?"

"Like hell," Marui protested, offended. "Taisetsu was a huge hit! And I'll have you know that Arashi is ranked number two on the Japan Hot 100! I wrote it myself, too."

"But that Usher song is ranked number one," Akaya pointed out. He couldn't go anywhere without hearing some girl sing that song on the streets. Marui had started a craze—and Akaya had threatened any of his employees listening to it with castration.

"Well . . . yeah," Marui admitted. "But still! This song's pretty catchy! Anyway, I didn't really have a choice—it was either this song or a song by some teenybopper named Justin Bieber, or something. Dude, he's like, ten. I bet he's not even old enough to drink. He's like, a castrato, or something." Marui shuddered. "His songs aren't bad, though—I heard they're pretty popular. Just . . . not good for my image."

Akaya arched an eyebrow, then settled for saying, "Just stop humming."

"You've gotten really good at ordering people around, haven't you?" Marui commented. "Really good. Unfortunately for you, I'm older than you. So I don't have to do a thing you say." He beamed and continued, "Pocket full of money, club going jump, 'til I rock inside the doorway. Bottles of the rose, smelling like Dolce and Gabbana—"

"You've only been in the music industry for about a month," Akaya noted. "Are you sure it's good idea for you to sing brag-songs this early in?"

Marui shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I don't have anything to brag about. They're saying I might be the youngest person ever to be nominated for a Japan Gold Disc Award, but I'm not gonna sing about that. Better to sing about my stunningly handsome looks and the fans at my feet."

"Modest, aren't you?"

He beamed. "You know it."

Akaya rolled his eyes. "You'll fit right in with Yukimura and his clique of snobbish celebrities at the party."

"Hey, why was I invited to this dinner party, anyway? Fuji didn't really mention anything in my invite—just said he wanted to discuss business, and that there was a twenty-foursome I should look forward to."

Akaya wondered if Fuji mentioned that on everyone's invites—people like Tezuka and Echizen might have been . . . turned off by it. Not that Akaya liked it, either. He'd been thanking his lucky stars when it turned out that a gargantuan bed wasn't available—only for this to happen . . .

"Probably just for the twenty-foursome," Akaya guessed, and took another swig of champagne. He was starting to feel a little dizzy. "This is really good champagne," he said, his words beginning to slur.

Marui plucked the bottle out of his hands. "Oh, no you don't," Marui warned. "This flight is twenty hours long! You're gonna be hung over by the time we get to the dinner party, and you definitely don't want that to happen."

Huh.

That was true.

Got to stay sober.

(He had to remember what happened on his first date with Yukimura. The horrors. Oh, god, and he'd sworn he'd never touch another glass of champagne, too.)

But that was some really good champagne.

"Why don't you have something to drink, too?" Akaya offered. "Trust me, it's good." He held out a flute glass to Marui, who gave him a suspicious look before pouring, like, a hundredth of an ounce of champagne.

He took a hesitant sip, and his eyes lit up. "Holy crap, this is good!" He poured the rest of the bottle into the glass and downed it in one go.

Akaya grinned slowly. "There's more," he said, gesturing the rows of champagne in the mini-fridge.

Marui gasped. "Score!"

Akaya took one bottle for himself and popped the champagne, unopposed.

That was way too easy.

x

Akaya and Marui were drunk.

They were very, very, very drunk.

Niou and Yagyuu exchanged a look as they boarded the private jet, Yagyuu looking concerned, and Niou looking maliciously amused.

"Hey, wassup?" Marui slurred, and held up a bottle of champagne. "You want some?"

"You two will be very hung over by the time we get to the dinner party," Yagyuu warned.

Niou snorted. "Stop being a spoilsport, Hiroshi. They'll have the night to sleep it off; the party's tomorrow."

"They'll be hung over in the morning."

Niou waved him off. "Whatever. This is good champagne." He poured a glass for Yagyuu and claimed the rest of the bottle for himself. "How's being president going for you, Akaya?"

"Too much work," came the mostly-incoherent mumble. Akaya eyed the empty champagne bottle suspiciously. "Too many douches."

"Very true," Niou agreed. "Hey, Yukimura told me to give you a message."

That was enough to jolt Akaya out of his drunken stupor. "What?" Akaya asked warily.

Niou smiled a slow, feral smile, and leaned over Marui so that he was face to face with Akaya. Akaya shifted uncomfortably. Marui snickered.

Then Niou kissed him.

(Akaya was really, really sick of people kissing him without his permission, damn it. Where was the respect?)

First came shock. Then came anger. Then, in a moment of pure, unadulterated fury, Akaya bit as hard as he could on Niou's lip.

Niou yelped and jumped back, while Yagyuu scolded him halfheartedly. "Holy shit, Akaya, that hurts," Niou complained, nursing his bottom lip. "If there are paparazzi at that party . . . man, the press is going to have a field day. I can see it now—Niou Masaharu, with a bloody lip."

"More like a dirty mouth. Serves you bloody right," Akaya retorted. "That was Yukimura's message? Fuck him."

"You know you want to," Niou teased, wagging his eyebrows.

Akaya snarled at him and grabbed another bottle of champagne. Time to get drunk.

Again.

"He likes it rough," Niou told Yagyuu, who rolled his eyes and helped himself to another glass of wine.

Akaya smiled brightly. It was a fantastic day; he was wealthy, president of a company, had a house that rivaled the size of Queen Elizabeth's castle, and a faithful, purebred golden retriever.

Life was good.

He got up from bed and flung aside the curtains. Sunshine flooded the room, illuminating everything a beautiful shade of gold. His golden retriever ran up to him and licked him on the cheek.

"Good morning, Aka-chan," said the dog.

"Good—" Akaya began, then cut himself off and stared, dumbfounded. "You can . . . talk?"

"Why, of course," the dog said, giggling. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You're a dog," Akaya said slowly.

"No shit," said the dog.

Akaya frowned and folded his arms. "I can't say I like your attitude," he said sternly. "Bad dog."

The dog got up on his hind legs and whacked Akaya in the head with a paw. "Bad boy! Don't call me a bad dog!"

Akaya held the side of his face with a hurt expression. "You hit me!"

"I'm your husband," the dog said. "Husbands hit their wives."

"Excuse me?" Akaya sputtered. "You're a dog!" He paused. "And what makes you the husband?"

"No," the dog said. His fur suddenly turned blue. "I'm Yukimura Seiichi." And just like that, the dog turned into Yukimura Seiichi.

"Holy f—" Akaya scrambled away, but Yukimura caught his arm before he could get anywhere, and licked—slurped, really—his cheek.

"AAHHHHHH!"

Akaya shot up from his bed, then fell back down and tried to go back to sleep. He'd barely been sleeping for an hour—he'd just gotten off the plane. That was a . . . really weird dream.

x

Why was the room so bright?

Why was it so loud?

Why did he have a horrible headache?

"Akaya," someone whispered into his ear. He could feel the person's breath on his cheek, and it felt funny. "Time to wake up."

"Nnngh," Akaya replied intelligently, and rolled over. "Go away."

"Akaya," the voice repeated stubbornly. "Up."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"AKAYA!" the voice shouted in his hear. "GET UP!"

Akaya cried out in surprise and jolted upwards. He brought a hand to his head—his headache had suddenly increased tenfold. "What the hell?"

Niou beamed. "Good morning, sunshine!"

"Not morning," Akaya whined. "I just went to sleep."

"Time zone differences," Niou explained cheerily. "Jetlag and all that jazz. Let's go! We need to get you all primped up for that dinner party tonight."

Akaya fell backwards onto the bed and buried his face in a pillow. "Brought suit, brought shoes, brought tie. Lemme sleep," came the mostly incoherent mumble.

"No no no," Niou warned. "Things are different in America. Hairstyles matter. And you are not going to ruin Lys Corp.'s image by showing up with a bed head. Lys Corp. is all about class and elegance, so we're going to tame that crazy crow's nest of yours."

"Go fix Marui's hair—his hair's messy, too."

"His hair doesn't need to be fixed—he doesn't work for Lys Corp. anymore, remember? Besides, his hair's messy in a cool way. And it fits his image. You, on the other hand, are making your first public appearance as president. So we're fixing your hair. Let's go."

Akaya moaned and clung to his pillow.

"Uppie," Niou ordered. "Now."

"You're not my boss anymore."

"You're right," Niou leered, "but I'm best friends with Yukimura, and he is the boss of you."

Akaya shot up. "He is not!"

"He is," Niou deadpanned. "Let's go."

Akaya sulkily hugged his pillow and followed Niou out of the room in his pajamas.

The dinner party was in full swing—or, the prior-dinner-party. Fuji was the type, apparently, to have a prior-party, actual party, and a post-party. The actual dinner party was supposed to be in another building—which was only logical, because from the looks of it, this place was being trashed.

Loud music, crazy dancing, celebrities acting like drunken idiots—the paparazzi would have a field day. Akaya sighed resignedly. Twenty-foursome, huh?

He resisted the urge to mess up his hair. It was gelled flat, and he felt like a soaked puppy.

. . . soaked bulldog.

Not puppy.

Bulldog.

Big, big bulldog.

Akaya tugged at his tie a little and followed Marui into the main room. Marui was practically bouncing—it'd be his first time meeting all these celebrities as their equal, and he hadn't taken his word for it when Akaya told him that no, it's not exciting, and yes, these people are nut jobs.

"This is the teenybopper song!" Marui gasped, and looked like he felt a bit woozy. "This is the song they wanted me to record!" He grabbed Akaya by the shoulders and shook him. "Listen to the lyrics. Listen to the kid's voice. Do you see why I couldn't record this?"

"You sound exactly the same," Akaya replied.

"I do not!"

"Fine, you sound exactly the same, except more Japanese. Happy?"

"What? No! I don't have an accent! My English is flawless!"

"Alright, alright, your English is flawless!" Akaya choked out. Marui was practically strangling him. "Let go!"

"I'm probably gonna end up having to sing this, anyway," he muttered under his breath. "I think the producer's daughter is a fan of his, or something. Damn."

"Just woo her yourself," Akaya said sarcastically. "And instead of fangirling over him, she'll fangirl over you."

Marui's eyes lit up. "That's brilliant, Akaya!"

"Wait, no, I was joking—"

"Man, how come I never thought of that?" Marui wondered, and, with a radiant smile on his face, frolicked off to mingle into the crowd.

Akaya rolled his eyes and followed.

There was really nothing to do at parties like this.

Except to avoid certain people.

Like—

"Akaya!"

"Hi, Fuji-san."

Damn it.

"Why hello there!" Fuji exclaimed, sounding pleasantly surprised. "It's absolutely wonderful to see you!"

"How are you?" Akaya replied, then mentally slapped himself for instigating a conversation.

"So glad you asked," Fuji trilled. "I'm doing great—in fact, I'm going to be in a movie! I was just about to ask—would you be interested in co-starring?"

"Probably not," Akaya said hurriedly, and tried to leave, but Fuji grabbed his arm.

"Niou-kun wrote the script," Fuji continued. "It's purely fictional, of course—but it's a very humorous story. You've simply got to talk to Niou about this; you'd be perfect for the lead role, you know. Or, one of the lead roles."

"That's nice." Akaya subtly edged away while Fuji rambled, and made a run for it.

Bumping directly into Yukimura.

"Enjoying the pre-party?" he cooed, and lifted Akaya's chin. "The twenty-foursome isn't until the afterparty, though, so take a break for now. The dinner party will cool things down a bit."

"I thought this was to discuss business?" Akaya asked, inching away.

"We'll discuss business at the dinner party," Yukimura said dismissively. "This is fun time."

"I . . . see."

He leaned in until their noses were touching, and Akaya shuddered. Mentally. Those eyes were creepy, damn it.

"We'll have to save any uncouth actions for the afterparty," Yukimura said mournfully. "So give me a kiss, darling, and I'll see you then."

"No thank you," Akaya said, panicked.

"Don't you love me?" Yukimura leaned so far in that their lips were literally a millimeter apart.

God, Akaya prayed, if you help me now then I promise I'll never threaten anybody with my Knuckle Serve again! Please God please God please God please please please I seriously need some divine intervention here—

Then it happened.

x

"AKA-CHAAAAN!"

Yukimura didn't see what occurred, and he never did gather the exact details—all he knew was that some crazy, inexplicable force shoved him about a hundred thousand feet away from Akaya, sent him skidding on the floor, and bumping his head on the refreshments table.

The crowd gasped, and Sanada looked ready to decapitate whoever pushed him aside. Yukimura held up a hand to stop him, and got up himself.

What just happened?

Yukimura steadied himself, one hand grasping the refreshments table and one hand fixing his hair, which was undoubtedly messed up by now. His gaze scanned the room, and finally settled on Akaya, who looked a little traumatized and very, very surprised. There was something rabid-looking standing next to him. Yukimura stiffened—that rabid-looking thing was what had shoved him halfway across the room, no doubt.

It's a bird—no, it's a plane—no, it's . . .

. . . a girl.

She tilted her head to the side, her grin unmoving.

Her eyes glittered like absinthe.

. . . or acid.

Really, really dangerous, poisonous, lethal acid.

This was bad.

Marui, he noticed, looked white as a sheet and was muttering, "Oh, shit," under his breath. Yukimura arched an eyebrow, then focused on the girl and smiled brightly. "Why hello, madam. May I help you?"

The young woman's grin was just like that of a little girl's.

A little girl in a horror movie.

Like, the way a little girl smiles, just before her decapitated head pops off her neck and rolls onto the floor.

Her grin widened steadily, and Yukimura noted that her teeth were very, very sharp.

It was a little unnerving, so Yukimura turned to Akaya, who still seemed in shock. "Akaya, do you know her?"

Akaya didn't even glance at him, to his annoyance. "Nee-san," he said incredulously, "what are you doing here?"

Nee-san?

Now that Yukimura looked, he did see the resemblance. Bright green eyes, curling black hair. But there was something different—familiar—about this woman. Had he ever met her? Surely not.

The girl—Kirihara—said, "Hello, Yukimura-kun. My name is Kirihara Emi. I'm Akaya's sister." She was quite beautiful, Yukimura realized, but lethally so. A femme fatale, and the type that looked like she doubled as an assassin. Every word was slow and deliberate, and there was a look in her eyes that—

Oh.

That was why she looked so familiar.

She was a female version of himself.

Huh. How coincidental.

"A pleasure," Yukimura said smoothly. "May I ask what brings you to crash this extremely, extremely exclusive dinner party?"

Her creepy smile remained plastered on her face. "May I ask what brings you to force my little brother into marriage?" She fingered something near her belt, and Yukimura realized it looked like a gun.

Well, damn. He'd left his pistol at home, and he didn't have his penknife with him, either.

Or his vial of hydrochloric acid.

Or any of his poison darts.

Or his machine gun.

He sighed inaudibly; it just wasn't his day.

"It's not forcing," Yukimura pointed out, radiating fake-warmth and sadistic amusement, "if Akaya agrees to it. Which he did. We're very much in love, aren't we, Akaya?"

"Nee-san," Akaya whimpered, and moved closer to her.

Emi smiled comfortingly and put an arm around him. "Don't worry," she cooed. "Nee-san will protect you from the big bad pretty boy." She gave Yukimura a fierce glare. "Got that?"

Honestly, Yukimura was just surprised. This Emi—well, how come she was so badass, and Akaya was such a wuss? Didn't make sense.

"I have every intention of winning my future sister-in-law's approval, Emi-san," Yukimura replied slyly. "Please rest assured that I will."

"You know, I'm very good with knives," Emi said offhandedly.

Yukimura arched an eyebrow.

"I was recruited for the FBI during my trip to America," she continued. "I'm very well-studied in the art of espionage. I know all the poisons in the world by heart and I can list them in alphabetical order. I'm very good with knives."

Yukimura folded his arms, although at this point, it was more of an attempt to hide his discomfort than actual nonchalance.

"Akaya's birthday is coming up soon," Emi added.

"Yes, I know," Yukimura said, not sure where she was going with this.

Emi's grin was slow and terrifying. "I'm thinking of giving him a pistol."

"I'll provide the shooting lessons," Yukimura replied, not missing a beat.

"Akaya's a very quick learner."

Yukimura's slow smile was identical to Emi's. "So am I."

The other partygoers backed away by about ten feet and went to cower in a corner.

"I can't wait to get to know you, Seiichi." Partygoers gasped. She dared call him by his first name? On their first meeting? The audacity! The horror!

Yukimura showed no outward reaction, but his smile showed teeth and his eyes shone like daggers. "Nice to meet you too, nee-chan."

Nee-chan: older sister