„Hey, Akito" Shiro gazed up at the nightsky.

You could not really see the stars at such places- The never dying city lights blinded out any cosmic sparkle. It were moments like this where he missed his parents' old cottage on the country side; millions and millions of tiny suns would sprinkle the blank canvas, far away from any commotion, crime and unnatural illumination. He wondered if he would ever manage to get back there.

The two young men leaned on the rusty hood of Akito's seedy oldtimer. The flat car was a sin in the matter of environmentalism and noise pollution, but the redhead strictly refused to take a seat in any other vehicle (especially in Katsuro's limousines). It gave off a strong contrast to the elegant suits they were wearing. In the worst case, that shabby thing would blow up their cover.

"Huh?" the addressed boy breathed out, smoke leaving his lips together with the sound. Crumps of ash fluttered to his gleaming leather shoes. It was rare for him to smoke; only when the scenery's atmosphere invited to it. Like the scenery of the capital city in a mild summer night. The two of them had halted in front of a 40- level- skyscraper, a highly modern and highly secure residence for the high- society. And waited for their signal.

People strolled around, dressed in the latest and most expensive fashion. Most of them had no attention spared for anything other than themselves. Occasionally, groups of young girls passed by. Tight dresses, short skirts, nails long enough to pierce one's heart out. They threw flirtatious glances, giggled like teenagers, or even halted and tried to start a conversation. Fake smiles on fake lips, false interest behind false lashes. The two boys used these situations to observe each other. It was rare that their boss allowed them to normally take place in society's daily life, as to go for a beer or get new clothes. And so, the males barely knew anything about each other, anything related to non- criminal- social-interactions. Even less about the other sex being included. Akito had no interest in such dressed- up creatures. To be specific, he had never seemed to show interest in any female at all. How often had his talkative partner tried to open up this intimate topic, yet had met nothing but cold stone. Shiro, on the other hand, was a little more direct about his sex- drive. He smiled back, flirted, and pouted when the redhead reminded him of the strict prohibition to interact with outsiders. But lately, the young male acted different. Akito couldn't tell whether his friend had just finally accepted the rules, or if there was more behind his reduced extroversion. But clearly, the silver- head showed less attention towards those foreign women.

"What do you... What do you think is Katsuro's plan? You know, for [y/n]?"

Akito glimpsed at his partner from the side. It was obvious that the whitehead tried to hide it, but the watchfulness in his voice still shimmered through. It was strongly forbidden for the men to discuss or question, not to mention doubt the plans of their leader. That was nothing like an official rule- More a silent law they had made among themselves, out of respect and cautiousness. He took a deep drag of his cigarette. "Who knows" he blew out the words. "I just hope he gets rid of that brat as soon as possible"

Shiro narrowed his eyes. The older boy's statement had caused a dull echo in his chest. His mates sometimes called him naive, but he was surely not stupid: He knew there was no option as to simply let her run, go, return normally into the world they had stolen her from. And something he surely did not dare to speak out aloud, that was yet even louder in his mind, were the tiny hints he had collected- Tiny hints for something really big. It was their order to keep the eyes open for any young woman with [h/c] hair and [e/c] hues, and of course [y/n] fulfilled those criteria. But so did a thousand other females in this godforsaken, overpopulated city; plus another millions of tourists in her age. And yet, it was particularly this girl that had caught Katsuro's attention. And then there was also the growing threat of Youkai, but at the same time, a change of behavior. Shiro knew about any movement, any gathering and any gang- member in these streets. And Youkai's lower henchmen had almost evaporated. There were barely any drug deals or other illegal machinations in their name, but at the same time, their besiegement and threatening of Katsuro's casinos and night clubs had grown in aggressiveness. As if that group had collected all it's members to attack these certain points. And the last piece of the puzzle was the leader's announcement to include [y/n] into the gang. Shiro wondered what sort of picture this would turn out to be. But as far he could tell, it won't be a pretty one. Especially not for her.

"Well, he more or less declared her as one of us" the pale boy proceeded, now with more fixity. "I don't think he plans to kick her out anytime soon"

" 'Kick her out'. Shiro, please." His knuckles knocked against the back of the platinum head. "She won't be able to leave, ever. She had seen too much. She knows too much. She's in way too deep. Whatever Katsuro's plans may be, when he's finished... She'll be dead."

The golden key glistened so mysteriously in the dim lights, like a full autumn moon lingering behind a blanket of black clouds. And just as brightly shimmered the girl's [e/c] eyes. For an abiding moment, [y/n] stared at the tool in the man's slender yet sturdy fingers, and her mind formed the way she would run as soon as she had it in her grasp. The only known chance of a way out. And it was mere centimeters in front of her.

Katsuro's hand casually swung up as his opposite made a jump at him. Yet his trained reflexes could not protect him from the vigorousness of the energetic lass- which was intense enough to take both of them down. The girl collided with the blond's firm torso. Immediately, her fingers dashed forward again. The item of desire was still out of reach, only thanks to the opponent's arm- length; she crawled upwards, neither perceiving nor minding that she crashed all boundaries of personal physical contact. But as her fingertips finally hovered above the tool, it disappeared behind the man's spine. [y/n] groaned in frustration. And she groaned even more as she suddenly got flipped over, landing on her back- Her forced out breath could not even leave when she found her airways restricted.

Katsuro leaned over her. Chartreuse orbs, gleaming like a cat's in the night, with the same mysterious yet ominous glance, fixated her. Blond locks tingled her face. His knees strangled her waist, painfully forcing her pelvic bone into the carpet. His left underarm pressed down on her larynx.

With his right elbow, he supported himself next to her head. The key dangled in her view. She hissed- And wheezed. In the moment she reached out to it, the man aggravated the pressure on her neck. The hand she had held up now came down to close around his restriction, digging her nails into the skin.

"Oh come on, doll face" The leader tilted his head. The pitying look in his eyes almost seemed honest, if his sadistic grin hadn't given him away. "Is this all Akito had taught you?"

Suddenly, she remembered. In a swift motion, her leg curled around his hips. She grabbed onto the collar of his obviously not inexpensive suit and used the counterweight to heave herself up. Freed from his dominance, she turned the situation around. Literally. The female now sat on top of Katsuro, their pelvic areas were in contact. Her gaze hastily scanned his form in search for the metallic item. She barely realized how his palm crept upwards, approximating her throat area, approximating her head- And gently lingered down on her cheek.

It was that unforeseen, unfitting tender gesture that ripped her out of her alarmed state. Like an abrupt awakening after a nightmare, [y/n]'s obsessed, narrowed perception bursted open, allowing her to eventually take in all details around her. Her position, for example. And the warm hand against her skin.

Katsuro suppressed a smirk. The blood shot to the girl's face, giving her [s/c] color a gentle pink hue. She had once again managed to surprise, not to mention to amuse him. How far would he have to go, to finally make her admit his control?

The lass should have known that her moment of mental absence would be exploited shamelessly. A mere blink later, she was pressed against the ground, front- forward. She had to tilt her head as to not get her nose crushed. Her arms were twisted on her upper spine. She did not even had to try and squirm to find out that any movement would become unbearably hurting. She felt the man's weight on her back. And she felt his breath on cheekbone. His scent coated her sense of smell... Something between pine needles and gunpowder.

"Look at you" Katsuro whispered. His voice traced her earlobe. "Brave. Strong, and talented. But after all, such a pretty face"

She felt like her head was going to explode. The heat of anger, shame of defiance and a third component, something like embarrassment about her submissive, presenting position, made it hard to give off any reaction of countering.

His sweet vocals continued. "Can you even imagine what kind of worth a woman like you has for a man like me?"

[y/n] huffed. The blood circulation in her wrists was interrupted, and her hands started to sting as if a million ants were biting into her flesh. "You... You're hurting me"

"And I'll hurt you even more, if you don't start to be a good a little girl and control that attitude of yours"

The weight vanished from her back, and her frame was being released. She gasped for air and immediately jumped into an upright position, fists automatically lifted. But her aggressor was not even close- He had settled back down at the dining table, chin casually resting on his hand.

"I hope you aren't hungry anymore?" his glance pointed to her long deserted breakfast. "You haven't eaten well ever since you arrived. What a shame that you refuse to relax. I bet it's the first time in years you had dishes like this" His fork dug into the abandoned remains of her pancakes. With a certain grace that was hard to name, the food vanished between his teeth. The girl stayed silent. She could not deny his statement.

"Is there something you always wanted to try?" he continued, gazing at her, licking golden syrup from his smirking lips. "Sushi? Caviar? Lobster with sake?" He saw that his questions found no reply and he arched his brows. "...Hot- Dogs?"

[y/n] sharply exhaled. A little tiny bit of the tension in her muscles vanished. With a little more ease in her system, she might even have laughed.

Katsuro watched the expression on his victim's face fade from dander into something nameless. Then, with determined paces, she approached him- his anticipation grew with every step of hers- and suddenly, the fork in his hand was gone.

"My pancake's would be fine for now, thank you"

The man gazed at the tool, vertically plunged into the dough like a dagger in a body. He smiled. This was going to be an interesting day.

For midsummer, it was unusually cold.

The night wind pulled on his hair. The gust carried the strings of silky onyx through the air, like trying to steal them. The heaven was dark, veiled by a thick layer of clouds, which glowed sulfurous by the reflecting city light. A certainly strong blast of air pulled so hard on his skin, he had to close his eyes for a moment. As he opened them again, a truly mesmerizing view unfolded: The nightly illumination blended together in a single blur of gold, orange and red, with scattered dots of pink and purple in between. The cars were nothing but a huddle of lost ants from this height, and the late- night- figures on the never silent streets weren't even visible.

Isamu lied on the highest point of the enormous skyscraper. Black leather wear protected his body as he was pressed to the roof's edge, the sniper riffle resting on the light enhancement outlining the flat. His target was miles away, safe and secure in the living room of it's penthouse- How it believed. But through his polished scope, the rifleman saw everything as clearly as standing in the chamber himself: The luxurious furniture, the chandelier, the ivory leather couch where the chubby, old man was relaxing on, the giant flat screen on his opposite. The two nude beauties next to him and the platinum- blond mane between his legs. The ravenhead flicked his tongue to a sound of disgust. After all he had seen and done in his mafia carrier- which had started as soon as he knew how to stand- the exploiting of women was something he had never built a tolerance for.

These three young females were held captive by the politician for eight days now. Since they were nothing but mere prostitutes, three of three- hundred- thousands, no one was missing them. The ties to their families were cut long ago, and the pander who owned them had better things to do than running after some lost goods. He probably did not even know their names, not to mention their real ones- And even if he would start a search, there was no register where "Candy", "Sugar" or "Madonna" would appear. But Katsuro knew them, and he did not like to have his girls touched by the dirty hands of someone he wanted to see dead for a while now: The politician Kaita Yamato had tried to get his way to the top with lent money- Money he had been given from the blond casino manager, and surely had no interest in paying back. How it turned out, Yamato's plan wasn't supposed to stop there: He had intended to lead the police to Katsuro's casino, have them dive into the background- business and get the young owner erased from the screen.

Isamu adjusted the rifle until the half- bald head appeared the in the reticle's center. His slender fingers danced on the trigger. His face was as adamant and opaque as the night sky above him.

The females' colorful mouths became just as wide and round as their eyes when the windowpane behind them shattered into a million pieces. They screamed, jumped to the side- Except for the one on the floor. She got buried by the heavy man's weight, who suddenly collapse above her. A hole gaped into the back of his head, blood bubbling out and gliding down on her bare, silky skin.

The ravenhead sighed. He loved the part of exterminating, but the adrenaline- driven satisfaction faded by the thought of what had to be done afterwards. He collected his equipment, planting a light kiss on the long gun.

"Let's go" Akito boxed the whitehead's shoulder. Down here, between the noises of traffic, bar music from all sides and edges and the murmur of the crowd, the shot was nothing more like the bang of a car's door. But not from the inside. They waited. One minute, two. Three, and the first elevator arrived at the main floor. The two males entered the lobby. They were greeted by the first group of people, gathering around the reception desk, unreservedly yelling at the over-challenged concierge, something about "a gunshot" and "call the police". A young female in a pink latex- dress threw herself into extra dramatic poses, yet had the audacity to glance invitingly at the silver- haired stranger. The boys waited next to the opening lift. The second wave had emerged, filling the hall with screaming people. In the commotion, no one, not even the security was caring for their IDs.

By the time they had entered the top apartment, the three sex workers had fortified themselves in the bathroom. They shrieked when Akito kicked down the door, clutching closer onto each other's exposed bodies. But to his fortune, the right one, a pretty thing with long chestnut hair, remains of vermeil lingerie and smudged lipstick, recognized and pointed at him as "Katsuro's bodyguard!". Immediate relief spread over their faces, and the redhead was relieved that their naive trust wrapped up the matter. He rolled his eyes when Shiro stepped into the front and put on an assuring, heart- stealing smile. "Don't worry my ladies. We are here to help you. Follow me please, we'll guide you to safety."

The two males and the three now halfway dressed girls left the building and stepped out on the streets. Just when the police sirens where not only heard but also to be seen, the sordid, orange vehicle left the parking lot with stertorous howling.

The brunette femme just silently gaped at the annoyed driver with highest admiration from the front seat, while the two females in the back held onto the middle individual's arms like lifelines. "Ohmagowd, you guys rescued us!"

Shiro presented a gentle smirk to the shivering one on his left. He stroked strands of peroxide- blonde hair off her tear- smeared face. "What's your name?" he asked quietly. Pulling out a tissue from his vest pocket, he brushed away the blood staining her exposed thighs, stomach and décolleté.

"Candy... No, Selena. It's... Selena" She stared at him with sparkling, baby blue hues.

A while later, they came to a halt. The three workers repeatedly spoke out their gratefulness before hesitantly yet eventually leaving the car. For a second, the whitehead lost himself in Selena's expecting gaze. This was the point where he normally "just accompany her to the entrance" and would let himself get invited inside for "a honest expression of gratitude". But what came to his mind was the person he would see as soon as he'd be back at the base again. And for some reason, he simply switched places to the front seat, and they vanished without another word.

"That's unusual for you" Akito mumbled. The lights passed by in a blur.

Shiro shrugged. "I know how much it annoys you. Even though I still wonder why you don't join us more often"

"Because I'm not interested in those kind of fake a** barbie girls"

"Are you interested in any kind of girl?"

The redhead huffed. But actually, he had to ponder on his friend's question for a while. He knew he was not into males, he was sure he preferred the female sex- But ever since that one unfortunate day he hadn't met another woman who had managed to touch his heart.

The whitehead eyed his partner from the side. He suspected who stole his thoughts. "Come on" Shiro leaned back into the seat, pulling his necktie loose. "Tell me about her"

It was silent for a while. Well, except for the unbelievable noisy engine.

Just when he thought he would be ignored for the rest of the ride, Akito finally answered.

"She was... I dunno, different." His voice was distant. "The girls at the orphanage never wanted to play with us guys. Or at least not with me. They were afraid. But she, she came over. And she had this kite. She showed me how to make it fly..." He shrugged. "She wasn't afraid. When she saw me fighting with the guys, she wasn't afraid. She had seen me lose control once. I have beaten that dude green and blue. I don't remember what for. He lost a teeth and broke an arm. She wasn't afraid. I have yelled at her. She had looked me straight in the eye- and slapped me. That was the first fight I've ever lost a fight"

He laughed, and Shiro joined him. A warm feeling grew in the whitehead's torso, like a little fire. He loved it when his old companion opened- up to him like that.

The redhead focused on the turn he was taking, then proceeded. "She brought a second kite one day. Some years passed, and every day, she came over to fly these kites with me. Even when we were starting to get too old for playing in the garden. The girls started to wear make- up, and the boys secretly read porn under their blankets. They called us names, called us a couple. While I was about to beat the s*** out off them, she didn't care. We kept flying these stupid kites."

A comfortable silence engulfed the two of them. "She seems like a very strong woman" the younger boy whispered.

"...She was. Times changed, but she didn't. She was still the same. She didn't care about looks, she didn't care about the jokes the other girls made, and I didn't even need to defend her against the boys that were tugging on her braids. She could do that herself, perfectly fine" he smiled. A nostalgic, happy smile, that seemed to come from the bottom of his thoughts. But all of a sudden, it faded. "However, our ways seperated one spring. I was older than her, about to go enter high school and the orphanage wanted me to move for that. They basically put me in a car and drove me into this city. They didn't even gave me a chance to say goodbye. That was around the point where I decided to f*ck everything and not that much later, I met Katsuro".

He shrugged again, as if the whole matter meant nothing to him. But eventually, his orange hues grew soft, flickering like little candles. "But do you know what the strangest thing is?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I don't know her name"

"You don't know her name!?"

Akito laughed, but his eyes didn't. "I always used to call her dragon- child. Because she had this kite with this cool, biga** dragon painted on it. She did it herself, she said, whenever someone asked for it or didn't. She was so proud. Then I called her Ryuuko. That's it. I never asked for her real name. She might have told me. But I never told her my real name as well. We were Ryuuko and Homura. She said, my head looks like a flame"

The younger male was still grinning. He enjoyed the film of childlike, innocent and warm pictures. Then, suddenly, he jumped as something came to his mind. "Then this kite on your wall, it's from-"

"Yes, it's from her." he waited until his partner leaned back again, before adding the last, untold sequence to his story. Their destination came into sight.

"She must be in her last year of high school by now. Or she graduated already. I hope she still hasn't changed..." his gaze trailed along the street into the night sky. "She was perfectly capable of doing sh*t on her own. She never had to prove anything. She was never afraid"

"...She does remind me of someone" Shiro smiled silently.

His buddy snorted. "Yes, me too."

[y/n] angrily stared holes into the man's distancing back. Three further attacks had went by- Without success. Whenever she managed to get close enough to the key, the leader managed to pull it away in this last, missing second. But she wasn't ready to give up yet- How could she, it was her only access to the unknown part of the basement after all. Her only access to escape. All that was required was a change of tactics.

In her frustration, the captive had lied on the ground for two whole hours. The only productive thing she had done in between was changing her location from the living room to the training hall. Her idea was to accept the fact that her physical strength won't get her as far, so she had intended to add some "expansions"... Just to find out that someone had taken precaution in foreknowledge. All kinds of cabinets, vitrines, lockers- everything had been barred. The girl lied on her back, with literally empty hands, and stared at the friable ceiling. Until a shallow melody stroke her ears.

At first, she thought her mind played tricks on her. But when she sat up, she could hear it clearly: From somewhere near, music resounded. Light, gentle tunes that danced through the air. With furrowed brows, she stepped out into the corridor and followed the increasing volume until the source was right in front of her. The symphony sank through the ebony doors which guarded a certain man's office. Pacing cautiously, the lass approached the barrier. It was a classical piece, a lovely piano- composition. And it did sound familiar, even though she couldn't remember where she ever heard someone playing the piano at all. Her fingertips hovered against the entrance.

In the same time, the door opened.

[y/n] lost her balance in shock, stumbled backwards in an attempt to gain distance, yet a hand slung around her wrist and pulled her forwards. Her head bumped against Katsuro's chest.

"What a coincidence. I was just about to check on you" he smiled down at her.

In the next moment, the girl stood inside the wide chamber.

She straightened her composure as the doors fell shut. But in contrast to the last few times, he neither locked it, nor did he place his six- feet- onyx- haired security in the background. Speaking of security- She wondered when the other males would return. And if she would be gone before so.

She eyed the male who had sat down at the desk, a thin pair of golden glasses on his nose and piles of papers to his hands. "Why don't you sit down" he mumbled, not even looking up from the document in his grasp.

[y/n] didn't know whether to feel alarmed or at ease. The large room triggered a heavy anxiety inside her guts, replaying all the scenes that had taken place in these four walls. But right now, there was no confrontation at all. Only her insecure presence, the absentminded man and the piano music that surrounded them. It seemed to resound from all around her.

"A nice piece isn't it?" Katsuro's lime green eyes briefly glanced at her. The elegant accessory strengthened his aura of authority and intellect. "It's Isamu's composition"

The girl tilted her head. She couldn't help but sense a light wonderment crawling up. The fact that the leader listened to his companion's music when he was alone, had something... human to it. As she scrutinized the moment further, the lass realized it was the first non- evil, non- aggressive, non- ominous gesture she had ever seen by the man. "...Do you enjoy classical music, Katsuro?"

The male looked up from his papers. For a faint second, he seemed surprised by her question. Then a light smile lied on his lips. "I only know classical music, in fact. I don't think I ever heard something else"

He spoke the words with a certain absence, like wanting to answer but not wanting her to her hear. [y/n] thought about the music she herself had enjoyed or people nowadays normally listen to, and figured that it was not usual for someone in Katsuro's young age to never have heard modern music. Now that she thought about it- Nothing the man did was usual for his age. "...How comes?" she carefully proceeded, slowly approaching the desk.

He sorted his documents and scribbled signatures. "My parents cared a lot about proper education"

By now, the female had neared the table enough to throw a glimpse on it. It was an unsorted mess of documents, sheets and envelops. Some showed numbers, statistics. Others seemed like formal letters, others were hand- written. And a lot of photos: Of men, in front of buildings or getting out of cars or stepping through dark alleys. All pictures were taken from a certain distance or angle that gave off the strong appearance that the models weren't aware of their photographers.

"Do you know the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

[y/n] winced, immediately averting her focus. "I- I didn't see a thing"

Katsuro gazed at her, a light grin on his lips.

"...Is it hard? Being like, a mafia boss I mean?"

The man rose his brows. The girl didn't look at him, pulling the sleeves of her shirt over her knuckles. An expression of discomfort distorted her pretty features. He placed down his pen and leaned back. "Why don't you take a seat, my dear?"

She watched him point at one of the two cushioned chairs next to her, opposite to him. She hesitated. She did question her surrounding and context, and the leader appeared to be ready to spill some answers; but the only thing that had her honest interest was the damn key hidden somewhere on his body.

If we have a normal conversation, and I don't make a move for a while... Will that make him lower his guard?

"Being a 'mafia boss', how you refer to it, doesn't mean that you command some drug deals on the street. It's about supervising money, controlling economics. Ruling politics" he began when his guest had sat down.

"Well, how do you refer to it?"

He laughed, a unconstrained, spontaneous laughter. "Officially, I'm a businessmen. I do own a casino, to be precisely, a hotel and some night clubs"

He liked how the girl looked at him- the mistrust's and doubt's obviousness. The reaction he was used to was overacted admiration and faked interest. She didn't fake anything at all- She was almost a little too bold with her displeasure. Still, he preferred this version of people.

"I see.. And well, when you said your parents cared about your 'proper' education, I guess you come from a wealthy household?"

"What a clever thing you are" He smirked even wider when the lass narrowed her eyes. "I guess you don't"

[y/n]'s pupils grew wide. Then she quickly turned her head. There was barely a thing she despised more than being confronted with her family, her past.

"I see." His voice had changed. It went softer, the tone of banter had left. "Why don't you tell me a bit?"

The captive swung around, glaring at him. "Why should I?" she hissed.

The man folded his hands, resting his chin on it. Focusing her with his glowing orbs. "How about a deal: For everything you tell me about yourself, I'll tell you something too?"

She examined him. It was hard to look past the adult's collected expression, impossible to calculate his intentions. She couldn't imagine him to have nothing but an innocent interest in her- yet weighting out her options, she concluded that every piece of information she could get about her kidnapper could come in handy at some point.

"Fine" she pressed out, pulling her knees to her chest. Her mind wandered off, floating through the space of lost pictures. Eventually, she found a way to start. "...I don't think we were poor. I don't remember much, but I remember we had a giant house, a lot of toys, when I was younger. But I didn't live there for long. I moved to my grand- parents, some when during primary school. I dunno, I guess my father was rich, but my grand- parents lived normally"

"What did your father do for a living?" He noticed how she tried to dagger him down with her gaze. He seemed to have found an especially sensitive spot. In an attempt to soothe her, he added: "My father owns a model agency, and some nightlife- components. I inherited the casino, for example"

She lowered her focus, then shrugged. "Actually, I don't know what jobs my parents had. My mother was in a hospital ever since I can remember. To my father's half, I only know that my grand-parents often were very angry with him, because of his work. But I can't remember what it was. He left when I was eight years old" The girl tried to repeat the happenings as objective and blunt as possible. There was no need for him to know what intimate emotions these information held.

"...We do have something in common then"

She tilted her head.

"My mother had left us, too"

The room fell silent. Isamu's melody built a melancholic ponderousness, like an intentionally chosen background- music for a film scene.

[y/n] cleared her throat. "...I guess your mother was a part of the high society as well?" At this point, she couldn't decide what made her feel more uncomfortable: The somewhat abashed silence or the sensitive topic.

"Indeed" he continued with his usual clear, stable voice. "She was an actress. An amazing one"

"...Any movie I might know? I mean, I don't really know actors- "

"Theater, my dear." He smiled. Not teasingly, but rather encouraging. "She had an incomparable grace on the stage"

The lass could imagine: A pretty young woman, maybe with long, blonde hair and sparkling green eyes, in a stunning dress, shining brighter than the footlight. In a flash, a blurry picture of her own mother came to her mind. The slumped, bowed posture, thin, entangled hair covering her hollow face. Not graceful at all.

"...How can we be so different, yet live in the same world?" she mumbled. [y/n] winced as she realized the loudness of her thoughts. Hoping her opposite hadn't understood her, she hastily changed the matter. "W- Well, you were probably one of these typical spoiled kids that had a million hobbies as a child? Like piano, acrobatics, French..."

"And stage- play among others, yes. Whereas in my case, it was the violin and judo. And French. And English and Russian and Chinese" the leader smirked. A faint, shy smile appeared on the female's lips too. The music had changed it's tempo. "As well as dancing"

[y/n] straightened her back when the male suddenly stood up. She had a urge to do the same, especially when he stepped around the table. She was on her feet, her alertness back on high function as he emerged right in front of her- And offered his hand.

"Listen" he whispered, pointing upwards. The songs was a smooth, light and very swift rhythm. As if the tunes were jumping. "A classic Waltzer. Would you like me to teach you?"

There was not even a chance for refusal. Within the next two beats, she was swept into the wide quarter's center.

[y/n] stood in Katsuro's embrace. His one hand glided to her waist, the other one pulled her arm around him, placing her palm on his back. She could feel his muscles even through the silky textile of his suit. She gaped up at him. What was he planing now?

The man looked at her, his chartreuse orbs flaring and a mysterious smile on display. "1-2-3-4. When I step forwards, you go backwards"

Rather awkwardly, the female went with his instructions. She missed her next input, and stepped forward when she wasn't supposed to- Head on pumping against Katsuro's torso. Something pricked her ear. She stared at his chest.

The vest pocket. The damn key 's in his vest pocket.

"Try again. Listen to the rhythm. Let me guide you" He pushed her back into position. The song went on, and Katsuro patiently explained all over again how she had to set her feet. He halted, gently pressing her tensed shoulders down. "Let me guide you"

With a face that did not match the romantic action at all, [y/n] tried to follow his commands as much as her non- existing knowledge allowed. As she eventually got the hang of it, and actually relaxed her muscles, she sensed how the male took full control of her motion: With feathery grace, he swayed and spun her through the office. The movement was so flowing, so natural; for a second, she even forgot that she never had danced before. She felt like Katsuro was carrying her. And as her mistakes and steps on his polished shoes decreased with every tune, she even begun to enjoy it.

The young adult looked down at the person in his arms. The wrinkle between her eyebrows had vanished, but her [e/c] orbs were full of uptight focus, intently staring at his front. Then, slowly, secretly, without her awareness, a timid smile crept to her rosy lips. He grinned.

"[y/n]"

"Wah-" The lass barely caught herself in time when her partner abruptly stopped.

"Don't look down. Look at me." his gloved fingers wandered underneath her chin, pulling it upwards.

She came to meet his even, masculine face. He gazed down at her, lime green hues full of demand. She sensed a restriction forming in her throat- Something was glistening in his feline eyes. Something that made her uncomfortable. Something cunning.

The captive forced down the lump and allowed him to lead her. With an now upright, even elegant posture, she aligned her movements with his, and the two of them waved through the hall. Her legs moved automatically. She sternly gazed into the man's orbs. The testing observation had faded away; satisfaction and gentleness lingered in his green. 1-2-3-4. The man turned them around, she easily followed without a mistake. 1-2-3-4. He nodded encouragingly. He enjoyed the look in her focus: A veil of cold distrust, a mural of unyielding strength, and a shimmer behind- A shimmer of pure fear. What would it take to break down that wall?

1-2-3-4. [y/n] realized it was the first time since her arrival, that she had an actual chance to thoroughly inspect the male. She analyzed his facial features. Sharp lines, an edgy chin. Flawless skin, some very, very pale sprinkles of freckles. A single curl that had lost it's hold in the styled hair, gold- blond with a reddish shimmer.

1-2-3-4. Katsuro noticed her gaze loosing focus. Untamed, [h/c] strands graced her feminine face. From above, it looked like her lashes wanted to hide the deep [e/c] of her symmetrical eyes. He smiled. Now, in the fitting attire, without the stains of dirt and blood on her body, it became even more visible to him that she was indeed a pretty thing. 1-2-3-4. A shadow darkened his visage. His underlings might come to that conclusion as well, if they hadn't already. That could become a problem.

1. [y/n]'s stare fixed her target. 2. She placed her foot behind his, throwing herself forwards. 3. They hit the ground. Her fingers immediately slipped underneath his jacket. 4. She felt the uneven, cold item in her hand.

1. A grasp slung around her wrist, firm as iron. 2. She couldn't move her hand. 3. A grin, so belligerent and sinister, beyond everything she could describe as evil, plastered Katsuro's mouth. 4. She suddenly lay on her back, the man trapping her between his legs. The pressure on her carpus was immense. She shrieked out in pain. The man watched the female squirm in anguish. Yet she refused to let go off the key.

What a fighter, he thought.

1. The lass felt her arm being released. 2. Floated by a rush of endorphins and adrenaline, she immediately jumped up. The door was right across the room. She darted forward. 3. A heavy bang let her froze in steps. A dash of black blurred past her. A movement so swift, so fast, it was almost inhuman. 4. Isamu towered in front of her, blocking her view.

[y/n] gaped up at the tall man. His body was draped in pitch black, coriaceous protective- wear. A dark mask hid the most part of his face. It was only for the high, silky pony tail that she could make out his identity. And the flaring, piercing, narrowed anthracite hues which stared at her with such an intense revulsion. She felt like his gaze alone was sharp enough to separate her head from her shoulders.

The ravenhead crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyeing her form up and down. His focus stopped on the key in her hands. "And where exactly where you planning to go?"

She made a step backwards. And bumped against another hard frame. But to her surprise, it was a fiery red strand that dangle in the corner of her eye, and not a blond one. She leaned her head back and looked up, into the callous visage of Akito. His ardent hues glinted coldly.

The trapped girl tightened her grip around the bitterly carved out tool. Without a second thought, she let it disappear into her cleavage. Whether or not it was much safer there, she couldn't tell.

Isamu's lips distorted to a thin line. At the same time, she winced, her arms being locked behind her back.

"Akito. That's not how you treat a woman" Katsuro stepped into view, and without delay, the force on her limbs faded. Yet the redhead held onto her arm. "And Isamu" the blond proceeded, "please, you're scaring her."

The addressed adult threw a brief glance into his grinning leader's direction, then took a step backwards. Without letting his freezing focus off the captive for one blink. A bright tint of color to her left made her twist her attention. Shiro had appeared in the doorway. As their gazes met, he quickly turned his head.

"Isamu, Akito. I await your report. Shiro, would you be so kind and accompany our guest back to her quarters?"

With an expression as plain and frigid as the frosty shade of his eyes, the pale boy took over the redhead's grasp on her upper- arm. She hissed as his fingers carved into her flesh. For some reason, she hadn't expected him to be so rough. Without as much as a glance, he pulled her towards the exit.

[y/n] shot a glare over her shoulder. She felt the cold metal press against her breast. This wasn't over yet.

~~~~

*Ryuuko: Dragon child.

*Homura: Flame. Also, a metaphoric term as "flames of strong emotions", like love, anger, passion.

A/n: Do you guys have wishes for a special? Some extra information about the boys or some questions?