Blind for you Ch.1

[LittleRooster]

After the balmy evening air, the air-conditioned interior of the restaurant was an almost icy shock that Akito felt even through the charcoal gray suit tailor-made to fit her diminutive figure. Kureno came in the door behind her, a mass of warmth and electricity that she felt all the way down her spine. He had to be standing directly behind her for her to be that aware of him. She hoped he wouldn't sink into one of his bothersome hovering phases. She was always torn between angrily pushing him away to preserve her personal space and cuddling against him...both of which were unacceptable in public.

"Good evening, Souma-san," the hostess said, immediately recognizing Akito and stepping out from behind her podium with a graceful bow, her crimson kimono embroidered with fine golden designs. "Your party is right this way."

"Thank you," Akito said politely, hating the woman a little for her thick makeup and garish red lipstick.

Akito could feel the eyes of the other patrons watching as she and Kureno followed the hostess across the restaurant, muted whispers of curiosity and recognition blossoming in her wake. With the ease of one accustomed to enduring such things, Akito didn't grace the gossipers with so much as a glance and knew Kureno, her "personal assistant," would do the same.

With another bow, the hostess opened the sliding door to one of the large dining rooms in the back that cost a good amount of yen to reserve. Akito wondered idly if it was the Souma family's turn to foot the bill for the room and dinner. Kureno usually took care of things like that, and he never mentioned finances unless she expressed interest in them.

As Akito entered the room with Kureno close at her heels, her eyes automatically roved over the dinner guests already scattered at their favorite places along the long table, kneeling gracefully on cushions and talking in hushed tones that would only grow boisterously loud once the sake was served. Four of the seven families were already present, and Akito's arrival made five.

Minase. Fujimiya. Yukimura. Kusanagi. It was a wonder Akito remembered them all, since they were so very alike. Wealthy. Successful. Ambitious. Only her family, her beautiful family, was unique. Secretive. Isolated. Cursed. She headed the most mysterious of all the seven families. No one quite knew where to place the Soumas in terms of wealth or prestige. Though the largest family in terms of extant members, the Soumas had a reputation for keeping to themselves, refusing partnerships with any of the other six families and generally setting themselves apart from outsiders, a tradition Akito had every intention of upholding.

If only every man in the room didn't have every intention of breaking it.

Each family head had their own entourage attending the dinner with them, which included everything from assistants to bodyguards to spouses. Akito occasionally brought Shigure or Hatori with her, but the families were most accustomed to seeing Kureno at Akito's side. She spotted many familiar faces along the table, but tonight there were two unfamiliar females in the room, one sitting with the Minases, the other with the Fujimiya family, both young and equally beautiful, dressed in flowing kimonos with their dark hair wound in intricate arrangements that must have taken hours to weave.

Women had no place in this world. Which meant the two beauties were there for one reason only.

"Souma-san," Ichiro, the head of the Minase family, greeted as Akito took her customary seat on the cushion next to his. "It's good to see that you've recovered from your bought of...what was it you were ill with?"

"Just a bit of a summer cold," Akito said coolly, as Kureno settled himself next to her.

"Ah," Ichiro said, running one of his large hands through his graying hair. "Well, it's wonderful to see you again. Young faces tend to brighten up this room. Speaking of young, may I introduce my daughter, Midoriko?"

Akito could see the girl bowing in her peripheral vision, but she didn't even glance in her direction. "Lovely. Is she your new financial advisor, Minase-san?"

The man blinked. "Well, no, but..."

"Assistant? Bodyguard?"

"No."

Akito gave him a narrow glare. "Then what purpose does she have here, other than to take up space?"

Ichiro looked offended. "Souma-san, I must say--"

Akito realized she'd let her sour mood get the best of her. "Forgive me. That was quite rude of me."

The man was immediately sympathetic, gracelessly shifting gears as he saw fit. "No, it is I that should apologize. Perhaps my overzealousness gave you the wrong impression. I merely--"

He started to touch Akito's arm, but suddenly Kureno's hand was there, shielding the sleeve of Akito's gray suit jacket from the man's unwelcome fingers. "Minase-san," he said in a low voice, barely maintaining the guise of propriety. "Akito is still feeling a bit under the weather. Please allow him to enjoy his meal in peace."

Akito barely managed to get her shocked expression under control. Kureno was always there to rescue her when the family heads were overly persistent in presenting suitors for Akito, but he had never intervened with such little provocation before. It was pleasant...but also rather annoying.

Ichiro was properly abashed, but Akito could tell from the grim set of his mouth that he didn't think very highly of the chastisement coming from what he thought was a lowly assistant. "My sincere apologies, Souma-san."

Akito waved her hand dismissively as Kureno withdrew back to his side. "It's fine."

The final two family heads, Inoue Kazuhiko and Minamino Hisoka, and their respective companions had arrived during her little tiff with Ichiro, and as waitresses started to bring out a variety of dishes of eel, the restaurant's specialty, deep conversation diminished into idle chatter. Akito kept feeling eyes on her, but every time her dark gaze shot in the direction of the suspected stares, all she saw was a man in a neatly-pressed suit immersed in casual conversation with one of the people around him. But Akito knew without a doubt that everyone in the room had silently observed her conversation with Ichiro.

Needless to say, Fujimiya Kensuke was not stupid enough to try to introduce his daughter to Akito. In fact, no one spoke to Akito throughout the meal, and for once, she was grateful to be neglected. Her patience was thin today and having to choke down small morsels of tasty but undesired food while sweating in her suit jacket wasn't helping her temper.

Neither was Kureno's strange behavior. He kept leaning over to whisper mundane things in her ear, inquiring about her health, asking about the taste of the food, reminding her that she had gotten sick the last time she drank beer at a restaurant. No matter how she angled her head, she couldn't escape the scent of his cologne or the relentless warmth of his body. Had he always sat this damn close to her?

Not only was he treating menial things as if they were deep secrets, but he kept touching her, subtle caresses that might not look accidental if someone were watching closely. His hand brushed hers as he reached for a bowl of rice. He patted her thigh in concern when an overly-spiced dish made her sneeze. A gentle hand pressed the small of her back as he leaned over to whisper in her ear, warm breath tickling wayward strands of dark hair, sending them fluttering against her cheek. A wave of gooseflesh coursed down her body, nipples growing taut underneath the layer of bandages that bound her breasts flat.

It took every ounce of self-control not to pound her fist on the table and yell for Kureno to stop. She started to feel smothered, and not in an entirely bad way. The area at the junction of her thighs was hot and damp with increasing arousal, and she had the sudden urge to drag Kureno into the bathroom and have him take her in one of the stalls, to hell with who saw or heard. He was her lover. She should be able to touch him whenever and wherever she wanted.

Akito took a hasty sip from the small cup of sake that had somehow materialized at her elbow, the burn in her throat a welcome distraction. Feelings like this were inappropriate outside the bedroom. She knew that. She had to be calm and reserved until dinner was over and she could escape by feigning tiredness. Though it wasn't vocalized, all of the families knew about Akito's fragile health. No one would question her if she claimed she was ill.

"So tragic, that Souma Akito," they all said. "So young. So wealthy. So beautiful. What he needs is a good wife to take care of him, a wife to..."

A wife that wore traditional kimonos. A wife that smelled, spoke, and acted like a woman of class. A wife to be everything Akito was not allowed to be. Didn't want to be. Really.

Akito poured herself more sake.

Kureno's lips suddenly brushed her ear. "Akito, you shouldn't drink so mu--"

Something low in her stomach jerked, wildly excited by Kureno's sheer closeness, and Akito turned her head with the intention of hissing for him to stop nagging her, but the words caught in her throat when her nose nearly bumped into his. Kureno's russet-colored eyes blinked in surprise at her proximity, his long eyelashes catching on a rebellious strand of hair that had fallen over his eye. He didn't have Hatori's striking features or Yuki's delicate grace, but Kureno had soft features that Akito could stare at for hours. He belonged to her. He had pledged his life to her. Suddenly, she couldn't bear the thought that his lips were so close to hers, and she hadn't kissed him yet.

She started to lean forward, and Kureno made no move to stop her. It was only when she felt his lips like satin underneath her mouth and his breath warm and sweet against her face that she realized where she was, who she was with, and the madness that was about to take place.

Jerking away from Kureno, Akito sprung to her feet, head reeling from a mixture of heady desire and the lingering affects of the alcohol she had consumed far too quickly.

Ichiro turned to her with a look of seemingly honest concern on his face. "Souma-san? Are you alright?"

Panicked dark eyes darted wildly around, barely registering the sea of faces looking at her with indiscernible expressions. Had they seen her almost kiss Kureno?

She felt naked, exposed, and at that moment, she was certain they were going to guess what she was. A woman intruding on a man's world, a lonely goddess sitting resolutely on her throne amongst a horde of demi-gods. At her feet, Kureno's auburn hair seemed to blaze like fire amongst the congregation of hollow personalities, drab suits, and greedy desire.

"It's hot," she heard herself say. "I'm going outside."

Kureno started to get to his feet, but Akito gave him a sharp glance. "Stay there."

The intensity of the order was stymied by the fact that she couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes, but he obeyed regardless, remaining in his seat as Akito stalked out of the room. The weight of a thousand unvoiced suspicions and questions surged against her back as she slid the doors shut behind her, and she barely quelled the urge to whirl around and give the door a good stiff kick just to release her frustration. What right had they to question her? They were only human, after all, and humans could not in their wildest dreams even conceive of what it meant to be not just a family head, but a goddess of a cursed sect.

The thick moisture of the night air nearly chased her back inside the restaurant, but she forced herself to endure the heaviness that filled her lungs like soup. She felt flushed and a little dizzy, her loins aching plaintively.

Sighing, Akito walked a little ways away from the restaurant entrance and leaned against the wall, absently shifting her shoulders as the bindings around her breasts pinched tender flesh. She had wanted to kiss Kureno in public, in front of some of the most important men in the city. How shameful of her, but at the same time, the prospect was rather exciting. She could show the world through the sliding of lips and the caressing of hands that every part of Kureno belonged to her, that she reigned supreme in spite of the inherent shortcomings of her gender. Show those narrow-minded men that Kureno yielded to her, that she dominated him.

"Excuse me, Souma-san?" a tentative voice suddenly asked.

Akito immediately leveled a glare at the source of the voice. A young, unfamiliar man stood in front of her, dressed in a plain gray suit similar to hers, except a black vest was visible through the open front of the jacket, the material hugging his slender torso like the masculine version of a corset.

"I'm sorry to bother you," the man said humbly upon seeing the black look she gave him. He bowed deeply at the waist. "My name is Inoue Daisuke."

Akito frowned, scrutinizing the man with a more critical eye upon hearing his family name. His features still didn't register as even remotely familiar, but she gave a half-hearted bow, not in the mood for any sort of formalities.

"I assume you're Inoue-san's only son?" she said dryly as they both straightened. "I don't recall ever seeing you before in my life."

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I've only attended one dinner, when I was seventeen, but I believe you were ill at the time. That was five years ago."

Akito blinked. He wasn't much older than she. "Where were you for the past five years?"

He looked happy that she'd asked. "I was in an American state called California, working on expanding our family's business."

"Was the venture successful?" she asked politely, feigning interest while glancing towards the door. She wished Kureno would come and save her. Why did he choose the most inappropriate times to hover around her, but when she really needed him, he was never there?

Daisuke smiled again. "Yes, it was very successful. Thank you for asking."

"You're welcome. I think we'd better get back inside now, Inoue-san."

"Oh no, please call me Daisuke," he said eagerly, taking an unconscious step in her direction as she started to move towards the door. She looked up at him, trapped between him and wall, and she was surprised to see a wash of scarlet bloom in his high cheekbones.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, words falling over each other. "I was just concerned for your health. I've heard Father speak of how young and beautiful you are, but how you often fall ill. I don't mean to sound overly bold, but what exactly is your relationship with your assistant, Akito-san?"

Akito recoiled slightly. He had just complimented her. Called her beautiful, but...no, he had called the young male head of the Souma family beautiful. Now, he wanted to know the nature of her relationship with Kureno...

Oh...my.

Her silence only made Daisuke even more flustered, but instead of politely bowing out and retreating, he stepped closer to her and grasped her hand, dark eyes painfully earnest as nervous babble fell from his lips. "I heard that over the past five years, you've rejected numerous marriage proposals, some of which were serious. I know the Soumas keep to themselves, and I always wondered why. I can't imagine being the head of a family at such a young age and also being a...I mean...I hear you don't like women very much, Akito-san."

Akito tried to jerk her hand out of his grasp, feeling painfully transparent. "I think living in America has left you with the impression that it's proper to discuss things like this so openly," she said, letting out an internal cry of frustration when she heard a waver in her voice.

Daisuke squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Akito-san, but I don't meet very many people like me."

"I'm not like you!"

"Please listen to me," he insisted, suddenly desperate. "My father is ashamed of what I am. He thought I'd change after five years overseas, but I didn't. When I saw you almost kiss your assistant it made me...I felt like... The truth is, I'm not attracted to women either, Akito-san."

"I am a woman!" she almost screamed at him. A noxious cloud of confusion suddenly settled over her mind, obscuring her already hazy perception of logic and reason. She wasn't a woman. She was a man who was attracted to other men. Thus, a homosexual male, but in reality, she was female, and heterosexual. When Kureno made love to her, she was a woman in his arms. She was a woman!

"Akito-san," Daisuke murmured. His body was so close, warmth slamming into her like a tsunami, drowning her with genuine masculinity, making her fa�ade crumble like dry clay in clumsy hands.

Akito clamped her hands over her ears. "No! Don't make me listen anymore!"

"Get away from him," a voice ordered from surprisingly nearby, so harsh and authoritative that Akito barely recognized the owner as Kureno.

Daisuke immediately stepped back, looking utterly abashed as Akito's dark, tormented eyes met his, ripping open a fresh wound of guilt. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean--"

Kureno stepped in between them, shielding Akito from the other man. "I think you've said quite enough for one evening, Daisuke-san. Please do us all a favor and don't say anything else."

Akito's hands fell away from her ears as she stared up at Kureno's cool eyes, for the first time becoming aware of the protective, almost-possessive grip he had on her shoulders. She wanted to throw herself at him and melt into the safety of his warmth, but Kureno wasn't the only one who had come to her rescue.

Inoue Kazuhiko, Daisuke's father and the head of the clan, stood a polite distance away. Age had been kind to the man, gracing him with only faint lines around his mouth and the corners of his eyes, leaving his jet-black hair untouched by the shoots of gray that usually appeared on men in their early-forties. His deep black eyes met hers, but instead of shame or mortification at his son's rash actions, she saw only a deep sorrow brimming in those inky depths.

He bowed deeply, and that was all. No hasty apologies. No stammering explanations or excuses. Just a humble bow and, Akito saw as the man straightened, more of those sad, sad eyes, as if the amount of grief in that tall body could not be contained and thus had to find an outlet in the endless dark of his eyes. The only other person she knew with eyes that pitiful was Kureno.

Akito tore her eyes away from Kazuhiko's, and felt as if some force was trying to pull her gaze back to him. "I want to go home," she told Kureno.

He nodded, sliding an arm around her shoulders, his flank solid against hers. He began to walk her in the direction of the parking lot behind the restaurant.

Kazuhiko nodded at them as they passed. "I will tell the other guests that Souma-san was not feeling well."

"Thank you," Kureno said flatly.

As soon as Akito was in the car, she pounded her fists against the dashboard, relishing the terrified tremor that ripped through the vinyl. She hit it again just for good measure, screaming from between her gritted teeth, gathering all her confusion, all the pain that pathetic Daisuke caused her, and channeled it into raw rage that tore through her body like an orgasm, only the afterglow was tainted with heartsickness that ached like a reopened wound. Her fury soon burned itself out, and the ashes of the nearly-cathartic anger descended over her mind like chilling snow. She sagged against the seat cushions like a marionette with its strings cut, her blood still thundering in her veins and her hands numb from being pounded against whatever inanimate object was in range.

Kureno sat so motionless in the driver's seat that it was a wonder she hadn't mistaken him for an inanimate object. Concern wafted off him in soft waves that soothed her like warm water easing the aches of a sore muscle. She didn't have to look at him to know that his eyes were wide with sympathy, his brow creased with distress at her angry fit. She never bothered hiding any of herself from Kureno. He'd seen her at her ugliest over ten years ago, when she begged for him never to leave her before dissolving into a fitful heap at his feet. Kureno would never judge, scorn, or disregard her.

"Akito, are you alright?" he asked quietly, but his voice resonated with strange intimacy in the confines of the car, and the forever unsatisfied region between her legs throbbed, hungry for him, for the dampness of his mouth, for the taste of his skin.

"Take me home," she ordered.

Home. Where, behind the closed doors, she could at last cower from the loathsome responsibilities of her position. In the darkness, wrapped in his arms with their bodies joined, Kureno would wipe the confusion from her mind and remind her who she really was.

*

The flushed and passion-sodden folds of her body grasped him wetly, swelling and contracting around his flesh like a crimson, blood-filled heart. Kureno knew what this part of her felt like from every angle. He knew which way to curl his fingers to make her writhe with sudden pleasure; he knew when she wanted his tongue to lave her gently or lick relentlessly until she climaxed hard and fast, body spilling the clear, sweet essence that made her woman.

But looking at her now, socks still on, shirt still buttoned, tie still knotted, breasts still bound, he wondered if she could have been a man straddling his lap, flat chest heaving underneath the white shirt that smelled of cologne and night, the devious tail end of the fabric sliding in between pale, heated thighs, concealing the area where their bodies met in wet gratification, tight and slick and hot. The delicate hands splayed on his chest and flushed face gleaming with sweat in the darkness could have belonged to any boy in the prime of life, tottering on that razor edge between youth and manhood, voice high and androgynous as it gasped out the syllables of his name. A bewitching man-child who had seduced him into the bedroom with the lure of damp kisses and supple flesh, barely giving Kureno time to undo his pants before pushing him to the futon.

But there was the smell of her, sweet and tangy and uniquely female. Even the scent of her sweat was like candy that melted in the back of his throat and lingered for hours afterwards. And there was the tapered waist that his hands grasped underneath her shirt, narrow hips moving underneath the sweat-slicked skin. Her body slid around him, liquid-sleek, making frenzied, moist noises against his rigid flesh, matching the wanton whimpers that passed through her damp lips.

The body of a woman. The mind of a man. A heart constructed of the twisted evils and grievances of both sexes. His hideous, beautiful Akito.

But now, he knew only the pleasures of her female body as the mass of nerves, blood, and flesh in his groin grew overloaded with the rapture of their union, and he poured himself into her body in a halting but strong release. She continued to move on him even as he dropped hips he didn't even remember lifting back to the futon. Her sobbing climax came moments later, breaking her as it usually did, caught between relief that it had finally arrived and regret that the mind-numbing bliss would soon end, leaving only exhaustion. She sagged heavily on his chest, mouth open and gasping, a bit of saliva trickling from the corner of her wet lips before she frantically swiped a sleeve across her mouth. Kureno felt a matching dampness trickling out of the side of his mouth, and wanted to tell her not to be embarrassed.

Slick and sticky though they were, she rested on him a bit, their bodies still joined, her contractions growing weaker while he softened inside of her. When at last she levered herself off of him and collapsed next to him on the futon, legs spread as if demanding more, her thighs were slick with a mixture of her body's fluid and his seed.

His tie felt like a noose around his throat, and he loosened the knot with languid fingers as he rose to a sitting position, still fully clothed save for the open fly of his pants, the air cool against the dwindling heat of his groin. Akito had been desperate to have him tonight, and he had forgotten how beautiful she was when she moved above him.

Kureno stopped the stream of visions before he could start getting hard again. Akito's desperate enthusiasm had no doubt spoiled any chances of a second coupling, if her shallow breathing and sprawled limbs were any indication of the extent of her weariness. It had been a bad night for her.

She stirred slightly as Kureno rose from the futon, one hand on the waist of his pants to keep them from falling down his hips as he walked over to the large closet, finding the sliding door easily in the shadows. A stack of towels sat neatly on the top shelf, almost hiding the box of condoms that they rarely used since Akito's health had improved enough to start taking birth control.

He grabbed a towel from the top of the stack and wiped himself gently before carefully zipping and buttoning his slacks again, leaving his shirt untucked to hide any wayward stains. He dropped the towel in the hamper and drew another from its stack, returning to Akito's side and kneeling beside the futon.

Her eyes were just slits of deep darkness in the shadowy room, one hand coming to rest warmly on his thigh as he gently brought the towel to her groin. The motion reminded him uncomfortably of changing her diapers during their shared youth. On one of the rare days when he and the inseparable trio of Shigure, Ayame, and Hatori had been allowed to see Akito all at once, Kureno had lost a game of rock-paper-scissors and had become the poop-changer. He was always the poop-changer. He didn't realize until years later that he was always so full of nervous eagerness that he revealed the arrangement of his fingers a second before the trio did, and they all adjusted their choices accordingly at the last second to avoid being roped into diaper duty.

He thought about those times of blissful ignorance, of clouds of baby powder and holding his breath until he was forced to take a deep gulp of the sweetly putrid air. He thought of the black cloud of despair that had swallowed their hopeless paradise, and he managed to remain perfectly clinical as he gently cleaned the messiness of their union. Akito's nails scraped lightly on the leg of his slacks as he rose again, depositing the soiled towel with its twin in the hamper.

Akito was already curled on her side with her eyes shut when he returned with a yukata in his hands. The flesh of her slender legs was almost luminous in the darkness, and as much as he wanted to allow her to rest peacefully, he knew from experience that she would be beyond irritable if she woke in the morning with her breasts still bound flat to her chest.

He touched her shoulder gently. "Akito. You still have some of your clothes on."

She cracked an eye sleepily and reluctantly sat up, waiting expectantly until Kureno put the yukata aside and undid her tie, setting the bit of silk off to the side before undoing the buttons of her shirt. A wave of warmth laden with her body's perfume and sweat filled the air as he pushed the fabric off her narrow shoulders, leaving her nude save for the socks on her feet and the layers of bandages around her chest. She put her arms on his shoulders so he could find the small but precise knot underneath her right armpit, working it free and giving the free end a tug to start the careful binding unraveling like a tight coil gone limp and slack.

"Kureno?" she asked blearily, but he could feel the intensity in her voice, undulled by sleepiness or sex. "Do you think of me as a woman?"

The bandages unraveled completely, exposing her small, tight breasts.

"Of course, Akito," he said unwaveringly. In a sudden moment of intense adulation, he bent and kissed her pale pink nipples, the sensitive areolas hot and pressure-marked from hours of captivity. Her femininity was hard to deny with her nude before him, but he preferred it that way. It was easier that validating or denying things that he couldn't see and didn't know if she wanted to be seen at the moment.

Wrapped in the thin, comforting folds of her yukata with the blanket pulled around her, Akito quickly fell asleep. Kureno remained at her side for a few moments, watching her shadow-wrapped figure and listening to the deep, even sounds of her breathing. Was it wrong to look at her sleeping face and think of a soggy-diapered child instead of the woman he had just finished having sex with? Sometimes he felt Akito needed affirmation not of her gender, but of her maturity.

He rubbed his temples as if the motion would wipe the thought from his head. To survive as her lover, he couldn't think that way. He just had to view his clashing impressions of her as evidence that he knew her more completely and with greater intimacy than anyone else, from cradle to present. Over the years, he had tasted both the salt of her tears and the passion of her body, sorrow and lust burning his throat like liquor. To whose arms did she run when her mother spat cruel words at her? Whose name did she call when she awoke from a horrible nightmare and needed comfort?

His. And his.

Kureno didn't consider himself a possessive person, but in the small, personal bathroom he used when at the Main House, standing underneath a needle-sharp spray of water, he thought of the bitter feelings that rose in his mouth like bile when he came out of the restaurant to see Akito with her hands clamped over her ears, face creased with her own brand of internal agony. He saw Inoue Daisuke bearing down on her with frantic desire barely contained in his eyes.

Kureno had wanted to break his neck.

The father, Inoue Kazuhiko, had not even apologized properly for upsetting Akito. Kureno would not have allowed such disrespect if he hadn't been so concerned for Akito's mental wellbeing. Akito showed amazing restraint when in public, but Kureno knew that an emotional explosion was always possible. He didn't know what Daisuke had said that unsettled Akito so badly, but he hated the man just a little for making a sad girl even sadder.

Something slippery and blue suddenly whacked him painfully in the nose, and Kureno realized he'd squeezed the bar of soap so tightly that it had burst free of his iron-grip and hit him in the face. He laughed at his clumsiness as he knelt to retrieve the slippery bar, the unfamiliar sound chasing away the dark thoughts that had filled his mind a few moments ago. It wasn't right for him to judge Daisuke like that. Maybe if he ever heard the whole story, he would understand.

As he stepped from the shower, he wondered vaguely if Akito would have laughed if she'd seen him hit himself in the face with the soap bar. Facetious accidents like that often surprised laughter out of her. This past winter had been wrought with heavy snows and overnight freezes, and one day a patch of loose snow slid off the roof and landed squarely on Kureno's head. Akito had laughed for five minutes straight, so bright and carefree that the ever-stoic Hatori, who had been coming down the walkway, cracked a smile as he watched tears of laughter stream from her eyes. When the God laughed, the whole world smiled with her. When she frowned, well, bad things happened, and Akito frowned more often than she smiled.

The night was far too muggy for pajamas, so Kureno threw on an old T-shirt and sweat pants from his drawers before making his way down to his office with the intention of checking on a few orders he'd placed online.

If he'd turned the lights on upon entering the room, as was his habit to do, he never would have seen the face staring at him from just outside the window.

He froze in the threshold, hand halfway towards the light switch, his eyes holding that abysmally dark gaze for a breathless instant. Then, the face was gone, and Kureno's heart was belatedly thudding in terror. He spent a second trying to determine if he had just imagined the face or not. He'd only seen it for a second, but Kureno tried frantically to hold onto the afterimage burning in his mind, leeching details from it.

Shadowy features, with the light of the moon behind the figure. Skin pale in the darkness. Black eyes like chasms leading into places uncharted and unexplored. Slowly, Kureno realized that the figure hadn't just disappeared. He'd seen it move away from the window, down towards...

"Akito!" he gasped.

The path to her rooms never felt so long.

His face was covered in cold sweat by the time he slid her bedroom door open. The air still smelled of sex, and Akito still slept peacefully in the futon, the top of her dark head poking from underneath the covers, her back to the threshold that held Kureno's trembling body.

The room's small window loomed in front of him like an ominously watchful eye that he warily locked gazes with as he shut the door behind him. Still shaking from a mixture of fear and relief, he climbed underneath covers laden with her warmth. He usually didn't sleep with her unless she specifically asked him to, but tonight, he needed to be at her side. He needed to make sure she was safe, that the wraith that had peered into Kureno's office window wouldn't look upon her with its ghastly face.

Kureno didn't sleep the entire night. His mind kept replaying images of the man at the window over and over until every detail lay exposed, and it was only as the first rays of sunlight were lightening the sky that he remembered seeing the gun

[saeki54]

Sweet! Must have more.....

Never really imagined Akito as a girl, though I think it works....
Nice job!

[Tobo Castit]

Ummm.... Akito as a girl is little different... I'd never really thought of him as feminine, but I suppose if you watch him in the series he does act a bit like a girl. Overall I like it. Poor Kureno...

[flynfreako]

that's awesome... it's cool to read fanfics where akito is a girl
i like this story because akito isn't portrayed as being evil. it's nice for a change, write more!