Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Artistic License ❯ Artistic License ( One-Shot )

Title: Artistic License

Author: Flamika

E-mail: flamika27 @ yahoo.com (w/o spaces)

Disclaimer: If I owned them, all the Juunishi would have tattoos on their backs. But alas, they belong to Takaya Natsuki-san, so their lovely flesh will remain unmarred.

Pairings: Akito + Kureno, mild Hatori + Shigure

Warnings: lime, a not-especially-cruel Akito. Thematic fusion with Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Legacy Series (The marque theme).

Rating: R

Beta: Fafnir

Notes: I've never been to a tattoo parlor in Japan. I've never had a tattoo done or seen one done. I had to rely on accounts from two of my friends to write that section of the fic. Much love to Rukis and Kuri for sharing!

Summary: Kureno gets a tattoo. And methinks Akito doth protest too much.

Archiving: http://www.geocities.com/flamika27/fb.html

*

Those maddening pajamas again. They concealed everything and nothing.

A balmy nighttime breeze whispered through the open window, ruffling the thin material that hugged the contours of his back, a miniature wave cresting in the soft fabric before settling once again, an endless expanse of pale blue that taunted him with the secrets it covered. Secrets that were sleek and pliant and tasted of salt, especially during the summertime when a combination of warm blankets and equally warm nights caused a thin layer of sweat to sheen the skin concealed by that flimsy veil of fabric.

Akito could tell Kureno wasn't asleep; he was merely resting, his head pillowed on his folded arms and his face tucked into the crook of his elbow, eyes closed in a false impression of unconsciousness. He knew better than to fall asleep when Akito was still awake and restless. Besides, Kureno always slept on his side, never on his stomach, and he always faced Akito, knowing that his god refused to be ignored, even in his slumber.

Lounging idly with his head propped on a curled fist, Akito contemplated the man lying next to him for a moment longer before reaching out and grasping the bothersome pajama fabric, determined to stop the annoying fluttering that teased him with every ripple. Kureno didn't so much as twitch as Akito's fingers snaked around the hem and pushed the fabric upwards, laying inch after inch of flawless skin bare to the airy darkness of the bedroom.

When the vexing cloth was bunched rather ungainly (served it right) at the nape of the rooster's neck, Akito smoothed a hand down Kureno's back. Warm. So warm. Pale and lovely in the moonlight like the snowy feathers of one of the birds in the garden. Every gentle curve was perfect, from the matching rises of his scapula to the slight depression of his spine, no unsightly ribs or vertebrae pressing unbidden from within the flesh. It made Akito want to scratch or bite the skin, anything to mar such atrocious perfection.

But he was feeling far too languid to conjure up enough energy at the moment, and he settled for lightly scraping his nails over the small of Kureno's back, fine, golden hairs rising at the sensation. Still, he needed to do something to break the beauty, but not turn it hideous, something that would always serve as a reminder...

"You need a tattoo," he announced, overcome with ingenuity.

That made Kureno stir, russet-colored eyes opening in obvious surprise. "A tattoo?"

Akito frowned but didn't grace him with a glance. "I know I didn't stutter, Kureno. You need a tattoo. Something that goes from here," he rubbed the base of Kureno's spine, "all the way to here." His fingers slithered up the length of Kureno's back before splaying over the soft skin between his shoulders.

"That's...quite large," Kureno said neutrally, eyes unreadable in the shadows, but Akito wasn't concerned with how Kureno felt about it. Now that he had the idea in his head, he couldn't conceive of not going through with it.

"Hatsuharu has a tattoo," Akito mused, eyes half-lidded as he tried to mentally conjure up some sort of design, lightly drawing on Kureno's back with one finger. "Tomorrow I'll ask him where he got it."

Kureno paused briefly. "Whatever you wish, Akito."

The resignation in his soft, quiet voice made Akito smile with satisfaction. Kureno was so good, always willing and attentive. He knew what being in the servitude of a god entailed.

Akito leaned down to bring his lips to bear on the skin of one shoulder blade, sucking hard on it, reveling in the salty, masculine favor. In a few days, Kureno would bear Akito's mark all over his back, but a hickey would suffice for now.

*

Hatsuharu blinked. "Tattoo?"

Akito scowled. It was hot and stuffy in the room, and he was in no mood to deal with a dim-witted ox. "Don't make me repeat myself. Just answer the question."

Unfazed, Haru absently rubbed his fingers over the tattoo gracing the pale skin of his upper left arm, two bold, harsh lines of dark green twining around each other. "There is a Western-style parlor downtown called Artistic License. It took me two days to get there."

Akito looked down into those hazy brown eyes, smiling unkindly. "You must have gotten lost. How very sad. Silly ox."

Hatsuharu didn't reply, just kept up that blank staring that Akito for some reason found extremely calming. He petted Haru's soft white hair, pushing some it away from his brow, on which saline beads of moisture were just beginning to glisten. Akito had been sweating all morning in just his yukata, and Haru seemed annoyingly cool in a sleeveless white shirt and blue jeans, his metal-studded bracelets and chokers flashing in the sunlight. One looked enough like a dog collar that Akito reached out and tugged on it lightly, wishing he had a leash to attach to it. That might be amusing. He filed the idea away for later.

"Are you thinking about getting a tattoo, Oni?" Haru asked curiously.

Akito released him and turned away. "That's hardly any of your business," he said coldly. "Leave now."

Haru obeyed, rising to his feet and bowing politely before making his exit, sliding the shoji door shut behind him.

Akito listened to the sound of his footsteps receding in the hallway before calling, "Kureno."

Within a few moments, the rooster came in from the garden, dressed in slacks and a short-sleeved polo shirt, auburn hair shining with surprising glints of gold, as if streams of sunlight had left their mark in the wealth of russet strands. He knelt at Akito's feet. "Yes, Akito?"

"Did you hear what Haru said?"

"Yes."

Akito looked down at him expectantly, but when Kureno didn't say anything more, his impatience rose sharply. "Well, don't just sit there! Do you know where this parlor is?"

Kureno nodded. "Yes, I believe so."

The young head of the family made a noncommittal noise, reaching out to idly stroke Kureno's hair, searching for the golden strands he'd seen before, but they were gone. Either that, or they were hiding from him, and how infuriating would that be! He surveyed Kureno with a critical eye, taking in the auburn hair combed haphazardly to the side, eyes of the same color calm and impassive in a pale, fine-boned face. Kureno was beautiful, no doubt, but when compared to the other Juunishi, he was sorely lacking in terms of appearance. Even that dirty cat was more memorable than Kureno, and that was just unacceptable.

"Too plain," Akito muttered, the wave of heat suffusing the room only adding to his irritation. "I can't believe I condoned having something so plain in my presence for so long. Tomorrow we'll be going to this tattoo parlor."

"Yes, Akito."

"Good. Now, turn around and take your shirt off."

*

Artistic License was a mediocre establishment nestled in between a sushi bar and a second-hand clothes store. Akito's lip curled in contempt at the gaudy sign in front of the parlor that proudly displayed its name in the Western alphabet, of which Akito only had limited knowledge. He might have missed the parlor if Kureno hadn't pointed it out to him. There was a large window to the right side of the door, but the view was obscured by what looked to be a shimmering veil. Trying to see inside gave Akito a headache.

He glanced at Kureno, who stood tall and rigid at his side, oblivious to the sun beating down on his back as his eyes glanced from the door to the window and back again. Akito could tell from the stiff set of his shoulders and his nervously twitching fingers that Kureno's presence was begrudging at the worst, unwilling at the least.

"What's wrong?" he snapped. "Do you not want to be here?" If Kureno was so strongly adverse to getting a tattoo...it made the escapade a great deal less fun, for some reason.

Kureno glanced down at his god, worry creating a small pucker between his eyebrows. "Is it going to hurt?"

Akito stared at him for a moment, perplexed at the childish lilt in the man's voice, as if he was asking Akito to make sure there were no monsters hiding in the closet. He felt laughter bubbling in his chest and didn't bother quelling its advance, letting it wash over him until he was laughing so hard he began to cough. Kureno patted his back, fingers rubbing the delicate skin through the black cloth shirt until Akito's coughs subsided.

He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, still chuckling, though the sound had taken a darker edge. "You don't know what pain is, Kureno. Let's go inside."

Kureno nodded somberly, not looking at all placated. He maneuvered in front of Akito and held the door open for him, a blast of cold air from the parlor's interior a pleasant shock after the blistering heat.

The parlor floor was lined with white tiles, the walls adorned with a dizzying array of designs. A pair of black leather couches and a couple of cushioned chairs were arranged into a supposedly cozy arrangement, except there was nothing cozy about sitting in a cold room knowing there was an assortment of needles and other pain-causing instruments in the rooms beyond. The clinical smell of disinfectants and other things associated with sterility assaulted his nose, and he knew that was a good thing. He wouldn't stand for his rooster being marked by a worker in a dirty establishment.

He should have asked Hatori for his doctor's opinion about what constituted a clean parlor, but for some reason, Akito was reluctant to bring others into this. Asking Haru for the name of the parlor had been enough. Akito wasn't an inept child who couldn't do things by himself.

The squeak of combat boots on the shiny floor heralded the arrival of a man who dressed enough like Hatsuharu that Akito felt himself relax marginally. Despite the heat outside, he wore black jeans and a leather vest with an open front through which Akito glimpsed a pierced nipple and a tattoo of a crimson sun around his navel. The man's eyes were dark and piercing as they looked Akito up and down before giving Kureno the same treatment. Akito instinctively stepped in front of Kureno, blocking the man's line of sight.

The man blinked in surprise before shrugging helplessly. "Can I help you with something?"

"Do you have male tattoo artists?" Akito demanded. It was bad enough this person was eyeing Kureno so brazenly, but they were going to promptly turn around and walk out if he found a woman would be handling Kureno.

The man scratched his hair, which had been bleached blonde but was showing signs of dark roots. How tacky. "Yeah, you're looking at one. My name's Akashi." He bowed slightly, almost as if the motion was an afterthought.

Akito didn't bow back. "I'm Akito."

If Akashi was offended by the lack of courtesy, he didn't show it. "You getting a tat?"

"No, he is." Akito didn't bother gesturing to Kureno. There was no one else in the parlor. Akashi gave another one of those apathetic shrugs, which Akito ignored.

"Sit down, Kureno," he said dismissively. "I'm going to look around."

He nodded and seated himself awkwardly in one of the leather couches, looking very out of place in his slacks and dress shirt surrounded by all the black leather. Akashi hovered over them a second more before sauntering off, telling them to give him a holler when they decided what they wanted.

Akito began to prowl along the walls, examining the wide range of flash designs they had on display. He'd had Kureno kneel shirtless in front of him for the better part of an hour yesterday, and he had only the vaguest inklings of an idea in his mind. Akito had a vivid imagination but no artistic talent whatsoever so he was left to scour the flash in hope that the image he wanted was amongst them.

He searched the walls from top to bottom, eyes taking in the diversity of illustrations. Crude designs of women with their legs spread like wanton whores. More of those bothersome Western alphabet letters. Japanese kanji. "Celtic" designs so intricate and abstract that Akito became slightly dizzy looking at them. He finally wandered into the section for the "tribal" designs and saw the bold, disjoined lines resembling the two that comprised Haru's tattoo.

He glanced back at Kureno, who was still seated obediently on the couch. Akito's eyes slid over the strong shoulders and the tapered waist, and knew that the design would have to accent the lovely proportions the man had been blessed with. Though patience was not one of Akito's virtues, he managed to go over each and every one of the tribal designs without his frustration piquing. Some he dismissed immediately, as they bore no resemblance to the image burned in his mind, but he finally came across one that caught his attention. It wasn't as intricate as he imagined, and the theme behind it was reptilian rather than avian, but if Akashi made a few adjustments...

Turning with the intention of sending Kureno to summon the artist, he found there was no need since Akashi had resumed his hovering, lurking in the corner like a shadow, hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy jeans. He reminded Akito of a deflated tire.

The young head of the family smiled nastily. "Not much to do? Does your little shop not get much business?"

Akashi shrugged, unfazed. "Not really. You find something?"

Akito pointed up to the design. "I want that one, with modifications."

Keen black eyes assessed the image. "Alright. It's one of my designs so it shouldn't be a problem." He turned and called out to Kureno. "Hey you. Where are you getting the tat?"

Kureno blinked and looked to Akito, who was beside himself with annoyance that this discourteous man had seen fit to turn his attention to Kureno when Akito was standing *right* in front of him, obviously making all the decisions.

"Down his entire back," Akito said sharply.

Akashi turned to Akito with a frown, eyes flicking up and down his figure with more intensity than his initial appraisal. Akito's gray eyes stared back defiantly, and the man met his gaze for a moment before shrugging, "Whatever. Follow me."

He turned and began to walk towards a counter that sat against the far wall, rapping Kureno's shoulder lightly with his knuckles as he passed the seated man. "You too. Your boyfriend already picked out your tattoo."

Kureno's face colored slightly as he cast a wary glance at how his god would take the comment. If Akito hadn't thought himself above such ungraceful behavior, he would have sputtered angrily at the assumption that rude man had made about his and Kureno's relationship. This was one of the many reasons he hated outsiders. Stupid idiots made faulty assumptions and then had the nerve to broadcast them in front of others.

Out of the many things Akito was to Kureno, "boyfriend" was not one of them. He'd always heard the word used mockingly in conversation and resented Akashi for labeling him as such. Kureno was at his beck and call. They ate meals together. They slept together. Sometimes they had sex. Akito was Kureno's god, savior, and master. Not his lover, and most definitely not his boyfriend.

//I hate outsiders. Hate them. Hate them.//

Despite his ire, he stalked after Akashi with Kureno following at an appropriate distance. Akashi sat down at a computer behind the counter, black-lacquered nails flying over the keys and clicking the mouse through a dizzying array of windows that Akito didn't even try to comprehend.

Akashi brought up the design Akito had selected, then reached around to the side of the computer, his hand reemerging with a plastic tablet, complete with a strange-looking metallic pen attached to the tablet by a wire. Akito had never seen such a device in his life, but he wasn't about to flaunt his ignorance in front of a stranger.

"What modifications do you want?" Akashi asked.

Akito glanced at Kureno, who was trying to peer around the edge of the counter so he could see the computer screen. "Go sit back down, Kureno."

The man hesitated for a second before obediently resuming his perch on the leather couch, hands resting idly on the thighs of his slacks, eyes still darting nervously around the room. Akito hoped Kureno wasn't going to act like a skittish bird for the duration of their stay.

Ignoring the curious look Akashi was giving him, Akito touched a finger to the computer screen. "I want this area elongated..."

He began to list out the alterations he wanted for the tattoo, and using the tablet, Akashi deleted and added lines and curves in accordance with Akito's demands. He'd run the pen over the front of the tablet, and lines would either appear or disappear on the screen. Akito knew there had to be some kind of trick to it, but this was the work of artistically-inclined peons, not cursed family heads.

Finally the design on screen looked precisely as Akito wanted it to. Akashi sent the image to the printer and rose from the chair, towering over Akito by at least thirty centimeters, a height advantage that the diminutive young man found himself resenting a little.

"A tat this big is going to take more than one session," Akashi informed him.

"What?" Akito snapped, practically biting off the word. "We're going to have to come back?"

Akashi stared at him. "I'm going to be injecting ink into his skin with a needle moving at very fast speeds. There's going to be swelling, and it'll fuck up the tat if we don't let it go down."

Akito looked at him narrowly but could see no sign of dishonesty or trickery. "Fine."

Akashi smiled, revealing a row of straight, white teeth. "Thanks for your cooperation, Akito-san. Has your boyfriend eaten anything recently?"

Akito wished he could throw something at this man. "He just ate lunch."

"Great. Wouldn't want him passing out from the adrenaline rush now, would we?" Before Akito could reply, Akashi brushed past him, snagging the image of the tattoo from the printer. "I'm just going to outline it today and we'll fill it in during the next session. These tribals use a lot of ink. You want it all black?"

Akito glanced at the design, which was currently printed on the paper with purple ink that he assumed wasn't the actual color of the tattoo. Truthfully, he would have liked to incorporate the color crimson into the image to complement the russet shades in Kureno's hair, but the design wasn't conducive to additional colors.

"Yes, all black."

Akashi nodded. "A tat this big isn't going to be cheap, either. Our store policy is that you pay for the outline right now since that's probably all we'll get done today. You can pay for the inking when we finish."

Akito shrugged and pulled a slim black wallet from his pocket. He rarely used it, for the obvious reason that he didn't make a habit of shopping. Akashi set the printed design aside and went to the register, doing quick calculations before giving Akito the price.

Wordlessly, Akito waved a credit card that drew funds from one of the Soumas' bank accounts. His family was old and wealthy. Money was never an object. The knowledge that Shigure and Yuki lived such a mediocre existence in that backwater house with that dull and ugly Honda Tohru made Akito sick to his stomach.

Akashi nodded to the credit card and picked up the purple outline of the tattoo, boots squeaking on the pristine floor as he walked out from behind the counter without another word to Akito. "Kureno-san!" he called. "This way."

As Akashi made his way into the hallway branching off from the main room, Akito emerged from behind the counter, once again exceedingly displeased that he'd been brushed off like a bothersome pest.

Kureno came up to him. "How are you feeling, Akito? Are you cold?"

It was a bit chilly in the parlor, but not unbearably so. "No, I'm fine. And even if I wasn't, I could walk to the car and get a jacket myself. I'm not crippled."

Kureno nodded humbly. "Yes, but I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you before I became...indisposed."

Akito gave him a saccharine smile. "If I become cold, Kureno, I can order you to get me a jacket whether there is a needle in your back or not. Don't assume that just because you are indisposed that you are excused from your duties."

Having suitably reminded the rooster of his place, Akito turned and strode down the hallway to where Akashi was waiting patiently in front of an open doorway, one of many lining the hallway. The room inside was just as blindingly white as the floor of the main room, but it had a cabinet filled with an assortment of strange-looking items that Akito couldn't begin to classify. There was also a picture on one wall, a panoramic photo depicting a foreign city at nighttime, shining with a myriad of brightly-colored lights. Akito couldn't read the Western letters at the bottom, but he presumed they stated the city's name.

Akashi shut the door behind Kureno, gesturing for him to take a seat in what looked to be a mangled version of a normal chair. "Straddle the back of the chair and sit like you'd normally sit."

Kureno awkwardly complied, spine ramrod straight and his shoulders pushed back.

Akashi thwapped him between the shoulder blades. "You always sit like you got a board strapped to your back?" he asked dubiously. "This part here," he tapped the back of the chair, "is meant to support your ribcage. Let it do its job."

Kureno slouched a little, placing his hands on his thighs and relaxing his shoulders, slipping into his customary posture for when he knelt at Akito's feet, a position he was in as often as not. The uppermost bar of the chair rested right below his chest. He was looking a little pale.

"Calm down, man," Akashi told him with a bemused expression, fanning Kureno with a set of papers he had just procured from a drawer below the cabinet. "Your boyfriend is here to hold your hand."

Kureno blinked away strands of auburn hair that had fluttered into his eyes while Akito grit his teeth in annoyance, telling himself to be logical and demure. It wouldn't be wise to lose his temper and anger the man who would be putting a needle into Kureno's exposed back. Akito wouldn't stand for an outsider needlessly hurting Kureno.

Akashi pinned the sheaf of papers to a clipboard and handed it to Kureno, his voice adopting a bored drone as he explained what each form entailed and asked Kureno to sign each of them. Kureno wrote his name on the first form, and Akashi blinked in surprise.

"Souma?" he asked, looking at both Akito and Kureno with renewed interest. "You wouldn't be related to Souma Hatsuharu, would you?"

Akito felt his mood become less murderous at the opportunity to talk about one of his Juunishi, especially one he favored. "Yes, he is a cousin of ours. Are you...friends with Haru?"

Akashi leaned his lanky body against the wall behind him. "I suppose. He sometimes comes down here, and I show him all the new stuff I've got. He used to bring his girlfriend, but they broke up. Nice guy, though he's more than a little spacey at times. He could get lost in a paper bag."

"I see. I was not aware Haru had many friends outside the family."

Akashi didn't miss the slither in Akito's voice and turned those uncomfortably sharp eyes to the black-clad young man. "Are you some kind of family patriarch or something?"

Akito smiled, pleased at the man's accurate perception. "I am the head of the family."

Akashi stared at him for a second longer, his attention diverted when Kureno handed him back the clipboard. "It takes all kinds, I guess," he said dismissively. "I'm gonna go get the stuff out of the autoclave. Kureno-san, go ahead and remove your shirt. I'll be back."

He left, closing the door behind him. Akito watched as Kureno undid the buttons of his shirt, admiring the paleness of his skin against the blue fabric as he pulled it off his shoulders, folding it neatly in his lap. Bare from the waist up, Akito had no trouble seeing Kureno's bare skin react to the newfound presence of the frigid air. Gooseflesh coursed across his torso in a wave, the aureoles of his nipples tightening, sensitive pink flesh becoming taut and peaked. It was a reaction Akito had seen many times before, only with the stimulus being Akito's lips or tongue.

Akito walked over to the rooster and smoothed back some of his soft auburn hair. "Are you scared, Kureno?"

"Not really scared, just a little anxious," the man admitted.

"Don't worry. If I don't like it, we'll just have it lasered off."

Russet-colored eyes widened with dread, and the expression made Akito smile in spite of himself. Kureno was entirely too amusing today. That was one of things Akito liked about Kureno. When put in awkward situations, he sometimes lost all sense of grace and became unintentionally facetious. Plain and clumsy. It was all part of Kureno's charm.

The sound of Akashi's reentrance interrupted Akito's contemplations. The man had a chair tucked underneath one pale, thin arm and a metal tray covered with a blue sheet in the other hand. There was a hand-held metal device on the blue sheet, along with other objects that Akito couldn't begin to identify.

"Here's a chair, Your Majesty," he said, setting the chair in the corner.

Oh, this man really did think he was quite funny, didn't he? Still, Akito didn't find the title entirely displeasing, especially from the lips of a commoner. He made his way over to the chair, but not before extricating Kureno's shirt from the man's vice-like grip. Shirts were meant to be worn, not wrung like a handkerchief.

Akito could feel lingering traces of Kureno's body heat on the soft material as he draped it over his arms and sat in the uncomfortable chair. He would have protested the arrangement, but from here, he had a good view of what Akashi was doing. The man positioned the purple-inked printout on Kureno's back and then reached out with one lanky arm to grab a mirror out of one of the cabinet drawers. He handed it to Kureno, who accepted it uneasily.

"Take a look at it," Akashi ordered, moving to the side while still holding the paper onto Kureno's back with amazingly steady fingers. For the first time, Akito noticed that there was a full-length mirror on the wall behind the chair.

Kureno warily lifted the mirror and maneuvered it until he could see the outline about to be imprinted on his back. His eyes widened.

"It's a bird," he said, voice sounded slightly awestruck for some unfathomable reason. He glanced over at Akito with an undecipherable expression on his face.

"You like?" Akashi asked, a touch impatiently.

Kureno faced forward again. "Yes. I do."

Akashi looked over at Akito.

"This good, Your Majesty?" he asked.

"A little lower," the dark-haired young man ordered. "I want the bottom of it to end at the small of his back."

"Hope you like wearing your pants low, Kureno-san," Akashi commented as he moved the paper into proper place and began to dampen it with a wet towel. Once the paper was saturated enough that Kureno's skin tone was showing through, Akashi waited a few minutes and then carefully peeled it off, leaving an outline of the tattoo emblazoned on Kureno's skin in purple ink.

He turned to Akito, raising his eyebrows in questioning. Akito nodded his approval. His estimations had been perfect. The wings accentuated the perfect width of Kureno's shoulders while the trailing plumage drew attention to his slender torso and narrow hips. Once colored in, the image would stand stark and black against Kureno's pale skin.

He was so busy envisioning the finished design that he nearly jumped out of his chair when a whirring noise suddenly started up. He saw the surgical gloves and facemask covering Akashi's hands and mouth, the vats of ink on the tray at his elbow, and the small handheld metal device descending towards Kureno's back. That buzzing noise had to be the needle. Moving at very fast speeds.

Kureno flinched slightly as the needle pierced his skin for the first time, pain causing his fingers to twitch on the legs of his slacks and the flesh around his eyes to tighten, but if Akito hadn't been watching for such reactions, he would have missed them. He knew all about pain and adrenaline, having broken his leg trying to climb a tree when he was seven years old. If stupid, girly Ayame could do it, then so could Akito. Or so his reasoning had gone. His underdeveloped muscles had forsaken him, and he'd passed out from agony and epinephrine as soon as he struck the ground. He could now admit to himself that trying to scale that tree had been the worst idea he'd ever had. Tree-climbing was for snakes, cats, and monkeys, not for gods. Akito had better things to do with time.

The only good thing about breaking his leg was the amount of attention everyone gave him, but even that became bothersome once Akito realized their concerns were based solely on the fact that it would be much more trouble if he got sick and died before a new head was born. No one really cared about Akito's pain or contentment. No one except for Shigure, who came over everyday to keep Akito company and push his wheelchair throughout the garden. He'd even joked that Akito should have tried climbing a bush or a flight of stairs before he tackled a tree. Akito merely pouted at the time, but in hindsight, he really shouldn't have allowed the dog to employ such a loose tongue with him. Such leniency on Akito's part might explain why Shigure now--

--that buzzing sound was really getting on Akito's nerves. He hated loud noises of any sort. It made his skin prickle and his nerves tingle with the desire to get up and knock things over. He felt like all the racket had gone straight into his head and wouldn't leave him in peace until he found some way to release the violence that had slipped unbidden into his skin. He resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his ears and yell for Akashi to lower the volume on the infernal thing. His already-slippery grasp on logical ways of behavior was sliding out of reach.

A stream of red suddenly trailed down Kureno's back, and Akito gave reason a swift kick to the side and leapt out of his chair, eyes furious.

The whirring stopped as Akashi took the instrument away from Kureno's skin and shot a confused look in Akito's direction. Kureno turned his head, wincing as the movement tugged the pricked skin on his back.

"What's wrong, Akito?" he asked worriedly. "Are you not feeling well?"

"He's bleeding!" Akito exclaimed, accusatory voice lashing out at Akashi. "Why is he bleeding? What have you done?"

Akashi's brows drew together in a scowl. "Calm your ass down, Your Majesty. I'm sticking a needle into his skin, for fuck's sake. If he wasn't bleeding, I'd think he was some sort of cyborg or something. It *is* cute that you're worried about him, though."

Akito had no problem imagining the sly smirk behind the surgical facemask. What a presumptuous, foul-mouthed man! How dare he assume that Akito's outburst was a result of concern for Kureno?

"The blood will stain his slacks if you let it drip like that," Akito snapped.

Akashi waved a gloved hand in Akito's direction, not bothering to comment as he soaked a clean square of cloth into a small plastic bucket of liquid Akito hadn't noticed before. He gently patted Kureno's skin with the wet cloth, and it came back stained with blood and excess ink.

"What's that?" Akito demanded.

"Cold water and aloe vera," Akashi replied offhandedly. "You really need to chill, Your Majesty. There's a catalog with tattoos at your elbow if you want to look at it."

Akito would rather throw it at him, but now that the buzzing noise was gone, he had the wits to realize that such behavior would only be detrimental in the situation, and the memory of blood running down Kureno's back was still fresh in his mind.

"You alright, Kureno-san?" the man asked as he took his metal instrument back in hand.

"Yes," the rooster replied.

"Good. You'll feel a little dizzy when I get close to your spine. Central nervous system and everything."

Kureno nodded, and the buzzing noise resumed, much to Akito's chagrin, but there really wasn't much he could do when Kureno was at the man's mercy. He resumed his seat with an annoyed sigh, refolding Kureno's shirt when he realized he'd wrung his hands in the cloth. The scent of soap and cologne wafted from the fabric, the same mixture he always tasted on Kureno's skin when they had sex. Kureno's previous cologne had given Akito a headache so the ever-accommodating rooster had switched scents without being told to do so.

Hands absently trailing over the folded shirt in his lap, Akito glanced at its owner, who was no longer flinching as Akashi continued to outline the design on his back. The fluorescent lights glinted on the strands of pure red scattered throughout Kureno's auburn hair and made his skin glow a light tan, just a few shades darker than Akito's perpetually pale complexion. His arms looked graceful and strong against his black slacks, the smooth curve of his shoulder begging to be kissed or bitten.

Unlike Hatori and Shigure, Kureno wasn't overly broad through the shoulders. His proportions catered to his slim waist and narrow hips without making him into a diminutive slip of a creature like Yuki. Though Akito would never admit it, at times Kureno seemed a bit more beautiful than the other Juunishi in spite of his mundane appearance. It was a loveliness derived from perfect proportions rather than outstanding features. Yuki was a delightfully fragile thing that Akito would never grow tired of breaking, but Kureno had a solidity that Akito craved more and more as he grew closer to his inevitable death. Or the inevitable day when Kureno would slip through his fingers like Shigure hand.

All in all, Kureno was just too beautiful. That's why they were here, weren't they? To make him seem like less of a visage of unadulterated beauty.

Akito frowned at his own thoughts. Usually this was the moment when he ordered the object of his unwelcome ruminations to leave his presence, but seeing as there was a needle drumming along Kureno's spine, Akito was forced to settle for picking up the catalog Akashi had suggested he look at.

The catalog was actually a photo album of customers' tattoos. After he was done studying each of the pages, Akito was anxious to return to the main house where beauty was always in abundance. He wanted to pay to have half the people in the album killed, just to ensure that they didn't spawn any more hideousness in the world. They didn't need tattoos; they needed facial rearrangement, liposuction, and other sorts of cosmetic surgery. He was glad he hadn't seen Hatsuharu's picture in the album.

He wasn't aware of how much time had passed until he saw Akashi push back his chair and kneel on the floor in order to finish the portion of the design that flared slightly at the base of Kureno's spine. Akito watched the process this time, feeling a begrudging appreciation for the steadiness of Akashi's hand as he plunged his abominable whirring instrument into Kureno's flesh, wiping the blood away with the cloth at regular intervals. Akito had to admit that the man was good at his craft.

At last, Akashi straightened and switched off his instrument, patting Kureno's marked flesh one last time before setting the cloth and metal device aside and stretching his cramped limbs, ink-stained gloves raised towards the ceiling as he sighed into his facemask. His dark, almond-shaped eyes roved over Kureno's back, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

"Amazing. You're hardly swelling at all," he said in surprise. "With a tat this big, that's just...damn. You must have really tough skin."

"Maybe," Kureno said carefully, not voicing what he and Akito knew to be true. Over the years, it had become evident that those cursed with the spirits of the Juunishi could take damage better than normal humans. They were just as prone to illnesses, but their recovery time was quicker, a great advantage for when they were in Akito's tender care. Of course, such tenacity in people like Rin, who survived a fall out of a two-story window, could really be quite annoying.

"You doing okay?" Akashi asked, rising to his feet and continuing to stretch his back.

"A little dizzy," Kureno admitted, and he must have felt more than a little dizzy for him to mention it.

The man snapped off his ink-stained gloves with an unconscious flourish. "I'll get you some water. Don't stand up too quickly or you might faint."

"Can you finish the tattoo today?" Akito asked.

Akashi's dark eyes blinked at him from over the edge of the cloth covering his mouth. "Damn, Your Majesty, you sure are a tough customer." He checked his watch. "I've never done a full-back tattoo in one day, but I guess he might be able to hack it, since he's hardly swelling. First, I'm need to eat something."

"Fine. Get Kureno something as well."

Akashi stared dumbly at him, as if his menial mind couldn't process such a complicated request.

"I'll pay you for it. And for the breath it takes to order for one extra person," Akito said impatiently.

"Whatever, I'm not your errand boy," Akashi said, pulling off the surgical mask. "It's not good for him to eat right now. He's got a lot of adrenaline pumping through his system, and he could faint as soon as his body starts digesting food. Though he might be able to handle it, given how well his body took the swelling."

"It's alright," Kureno spoke up. "I'm not hungry, but Akito, you should eat something."

"I don't want anything," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Akashi shrugged and started pulling gauze squares out of a drawer, taping them carefully to Kureno's back with surgical tape. Once all the finished portions were properly shielded against wayward bacteria, he turned towards the door. "I'll be back. If he faints, there's someone at the desk outside. Don't touch, breathe on, or lick that tattoo." He closed the door behind him.

Akito raised an eyebrow at the last order, wondering what sort of freak had done such a gross thing. Akashi returned a few seconds later with the promised glass of water, which he handed to Kureno before leaving again.

The rooster tightened his grip on the glass as if afraid it would slip through his fingers while he wasn't paying attention. Akito's dark eyes tracked Kureno's motions as he raised the glass to his mouth, lips parting to sip lightly on the water before taking bigger gulps, throat convulsing as he swallowed.

Cramped muscles reawakened with a dull ache as Akito rose from the uncomfortable chair, leaving Kureno's shirt folded neatly on the seat. He walked over to Kureno and stood in front of him, placing his hands delicately on his shoulders, mindful of the gauze inches away from his fingertips.

"What did it feel like?" he asked.

Kureno looked up at him. "Like one of Hatori's shots."

"Like a needle," Akito said dryly.

"Yes, but it burned as well."

Akito tried to imagine the pain, but all his mind provided him with was a red hot syringe being jabbed into his flesh over and over. His fingers idly traced the curve of Kureno's shoulders, trailing up the sides of his slender neck to cup the shape of his ears, an exhibition of casual touching that the public eye would consider suggestive. Another reason why he abhorred everything outside the sanctity of his own home.

Kureno's lips were still damp from sipping the water, full and appealing underneath the fluorescent lights. Akito cradled the man's jaw, forcing him to tilt his face upwards to meet Akito's lips in a feather-light kiss that deepened as Akito craved more of the silky, pliant flesh. Kureno's lips were always warm and soft, like a blanket on a winter day, but Akito wanted them to burn hotter, to become red and swollen like the flesh on his back should have been. A flurry of furious kisses passed between them, Akito pursuing Kureno ruthlessly when the man backed away slightly.

Soon, he realized that he was nearly in Kureno's lap, and the man was in danger of falling backwards out of his chair. Akito pulled back abruptly, and Kureno reeled drunkenly backwards, a sharp tug on his shoulders saving him from hitting the floor. His head thumped against Akito's thin chest, drawing a surprised sound from the dark-haired young man. Great. He'd probably have a bruise tomorrow, and Hatori would lecture him about taking better care of his body.

"Kureno?" he demanded grumpily. "Did you faint?"

The man shook his head, cheek rubbing against the cool fabric of Akito's black shirt, skin amazingly warm in comparison. Akito decided he would be gracious and let Kureno stay there. He didn't really mind the dead weight; Kureno's warmth helped ward against the chill in the room, and it gave Akito ample time to imagine the thin black lines traversing the formerly perfect skin of Kureno's back, concealed though they were beneath a layer of gauze.

Akashi returned to find them in the same position, and lifted an eyebrow. "He faint?"

Kureno lifted his head from Akito's chest. "No, I'm fine."

Akashi lifted his arms over his head and stretched, pale skin stretched taut over his thin torso. "Your endurance is amazing, Kureno-san. I feel sorry for your boyfriend."

"That was presumptuous and rude," Akito snapped, wondering how the man could say such things with a straight face. Besides, what the hell did he know about Akito's endurance?

Akashi only responded with a noncommittal noise and washed his hands thoroughly in the sink before taking a new mask and set of gloves out of a drawer. He resumed his seat behind Kureno, sparing a glance up at Akito, who was still standing in front of Kureno, hands resting on the man's shoulders.

"If you're going to stand that close, try not to sneeze or spit," he said dryly, carefully removing the gauze from Kureno's back.

"I can contain my bodily fluids," Akito said coldly.

Akashi ignored the comment, fumbling with instruments on the metal tray. "I'm going to be using a different instrument this time. I outlined mostly with a fine needle, but this new one is block-shaped so it's going to be a little more uncomfortable. Let me know if you start feeling nauseous or light-headed."

"Alright," Kureno said, laying his head cautiously back on Akito's chest as Akashi fired up his instrument.

Filling in the tattoo took longer than the outline did, but since Akito could see what was going on, the time seemed to go by quicker. The buzzing of the instrument soon became negligible background noise, and after a few moments, Akito deigned to start a conversation with Akashi. Skillfully multitasking between talking and inking Kureno's tattoo, Akashi told him that he'd trained as a tattoo artist in an American state called California, which probably explained where he'd obtained his crude mannerisms. Akito also learned that Akashi was younger than Kureno and had been practicing his art - legally - since the age of eighteen. Typical commoner, going nowhere in life.

Akashi had responded to that remark with a flat, "You're spitting on me, Your Majesty."

"If I spit on you, you'll know it," Akito snapped back at him.

Despite his ill feelings towards the man, after long hours of staring down at his face, Akito decided that Akashi wasn't wholly unattractive. He had rather lovely, almond-shaped eyes and a graceful muscle tone to his arms. If he would remove a couple of the gaudy rings marching up the curves of his ears and stop trying to color his hair ghastly shades of yellow, his presence might be marginally less offensive. Unfortunately, Akashi also needed a personality transplant, and all the money in the world couldn't pay for something that hadn't been invented yet.

Finally, the artist filled in the final portion of Kureno's tattoo and switched off his instrument, patting the swelling skin with the cold gauze laden with aloe vera. Apparently Kureno's resilient skin had reached its damage threshold. Akashi rose to his feet with a relieved sigh, back popping as he contorted it this way and that.

"What do you think, Your Majesty?" he asked, voice still muffled by the surgical mask.

Akito abandoned his position as Kureno's headrest and walked around to stand next to Akashi, examining his work with a critical eye. The bold, discontinuous lines of the tribal tattoo flowed harshly across the skin of Kureno's back, darkly beautiful even juxtaposed next to skin flushed crimson with discomfort. The intricate lines of the bird's half-unfurled wings sat on Kureno's shoulder blades without touching the backs of his shoulders, the proud head of the avian creature resting a few inches below the nape of Kureno's neck. Its plumage thinned and trailed along his spine before finally flaring slightly at the base, just above the waistband of Kureno's slacks.

"Perfect," Akito said with a satisfied smile.

"Cool," Akashi replied, placing his still-gloved hands on the base of his spine as he continued to reawaken his flexibility. The motion lifted the hem of his leather vest, and Akito caught sight of tribal markings on the small of his back, the twining lines disappearing further upwards.

Without thinking, Akito reached out and started to lift the leather hem. "What's this?"

Wordlessly, Akashi stepped out of his grasp and shrugged the vest off his shoulders, letting the material slide down the length of his arms. Before the garment had finished its descent, Akito knew what the design was. The room fell away for an instant in Akito's secretly delighted surprise.

Rat. Ox. Tiger. Rabbit. Dragon. Snake. Horse. Sheep. Monkey. Rooster. Boar. Dog. Kanji symbols of all the Zodiac animals sat imprisoned in their circle in the center of Akashi's back. Abstract tribal markings wreathed the design like black flames licking towards the nape of his neck, sides, and finally to the small of his back. Some of the lines hadn't been filled in yet, but the important parts of the design were gloriously complete. Except for one vital aspect...

"It's not finished yet," Akashi explained needlessly.

"Of course it's not finished," Akito said slyly, reaching out to touch the circle of bare flesh surrounded by the symbols of the Zodiac animals. "You forgot the most important aspect of the tale. The God."

Akashi looked at him over his shoulder. "The God, eh?"

Akito smiled, his dark beauty alight with pleasure as he stroked the blasphemously bare patch of skin. "Yes, the Twelve would not exist without the God. It was he who invited all the animals to the banquet."

Akashi looked interested. "I thought the center of the circle looked pretty damn naked. I'll have Yuka tattoo in the symbol. Now, if you'd stop petting me, Your Majesty, I'll patch up your boyfriend's back, and you can be on your way."

Akito acquiesced to the request, surprisingly not miffed that Akashi hadn't included the God in the Zodiac circle. The masses were atrociously ignorant, but even so, the fact that Akashi chose to proudly brandish signs representing the Juunishi made Akito feel more warmly towards the man.

Akashi laid large strips of gauze over Kureno's back, securing them with surgical tape as he launched into an explanation of caring for the tattoo. "Keep these bandages on for twelve hours, and when you take them off, don't panic if you see some crud on it. It's an open wound, after all, and it's going to heal like one. After twelve hours, wash it with soap and warm water. I'm going to give you some antibiotic cream to put on it for five days, once the morning and once at night. After that, switch to a water-based ointment. It should take about two weeks to heal. During that time, don't submerge it for long periods of time or poke at the scabs that are gonna form. Got it?"

"Yes," Kureno said. Akito just scowled. He seriously expected them to remember all that?

As it turned out, the whole speech was a waste of breath since the man handed them a paper with instructions for caring for the tattoo once they got back out into the lobby. A young woman - presumably Yuka - with an atrocious amount of facial piercings was overseeing the counter. Akito wished he could put her near a large, powerful magnet and see what happened. Something violent and satisfying, hopefully. She gave Kureno a very thorough stare, which the man didn't notice, as he was too busy moving stiffly around with his shirt half-buttoned and untucked. Akito gave her a potent glare that made her retreat a couple of steps as Akashi rung up their total.

Akito didn't bat an eye at the price, only handed him the credit card, telling Akashi how much yen to add for a tip. Akito supposed he could afford to be generous for one night. The artist had done a good job, and besides, he had a painfully acquired tattoo of the Zodiac on his back.

Akashi handed him back the credit card and gave him one of those smiles Akito had learned were very rare. "If he needs touch-ups, just come down and ask for me."

"Are you always here? Have you no life?" Akito asked flatly.

To his annoyance, Akashi's smile widened. "Yes, but I just might put it on hold for your charming presence."

//More like for my credit card,// Akito thought sourly.

"Oh, and one more thing," Akashi added, smile fading but an amused glint flashing in his black eyes. "For the next two weeks, you should probably let him be on top."

Akito didn't bother telling him that Kureno was usually on top anyways.

*

It felt odd to nurture someone else. Akito was always on the receiving end of such attentions when illness raped his body and left him too weak to look after his own personal hygiene. In those cases, it was always Hatori or Kureno that bathed and dressed him, and Akito suffered through the pleasure and humiliation of it.

Now, it was Akito that ran the sponge lightly over Kureno's skin, squeezing it and allowing the water to course down his chest in a glistening fall, liquid shimmering like diamonds in the morning light slinking in through the window high up on the wall of Akito's private bathhouse. For someone who had initially declared that he could bathe himself, Kureno seemed to be enjoying the indulgence far too much, his eyes half-closed and his cheeks flushed from the steam of the bath, even with the water at such a low level. They were obeying Akashi's orders not to submerge the tattoo, and since Kureno couldn't see his own back, Akito had graciously insisted on helping him bathe.

*Bathe*. Not overindulge.

"Don't get used to this," he said crossly as he let warm water run down Kureno's back, washing away the "crud" that made an appearance sometime during the night.

Kureno looked at him with hazy eyes and nodded slightly. "Yes, Akito."

Akito felt hot. Must be the steam. Or the sunlight. Or a fever. Or the way Kureno whispered his name in the steamy air. Another of Kureno's charms was his complete ignorance of his own sensuality. Unfortunately, Akito wasn't nearly so blind to it.

He also wasn't blind to the fact that Kureno was half-erect by the time Akito finished washing him. Focusing very hard on not glancing at his lap, Akito set the sponge aside and got to his feet with the intention of leaving Kureno alone with his passions as a punishment for being horny before breakfast.

Kureno caught his hand gently, and Akito instinctively looked down into glazed, helpless eyes. "Please, Akito, do you want to...come in with me?"

Akito stared down at him, trying to remember if Kureno had ever asked for it before. He must have at one time or the other, but surely never with words. Oh, this was exquisite, Kureno half rising out of the water, stark, black lines of his tattoo outlined in faintly inflamed red skin, glistening with a liquid sheen of golden sunlight, his hair heavy with water and hanging into his lust-clouded eyes.

Well, Akito wasn't cruel enough to deny him when he was so skilled at begging, now, was he? Certainly not when his own groin was aching for it just as badly.

Smirking, he undid the sash of his yukata and let the thin material slide from his shoulders to pool on the floor around him. Breakfast could wait.

*

By the time two weeks passed, Kureno's back was completely healed, the ink of the tattoo settling nicely into his skin, the unbroken black losing some of its original starkness and fading into a tone that naturally complemented his pale complexion.

He now bore a permanent mark of Akito's creation, and it was beautiful.

So beautiful in fact that Akito could not bear that only he had seen it. He'd given Kureno strict orders not to show it to anyone, but now he decided that he wanted at least one other person to see it.

He thought of Haru, who he knew would appreciate the artwork, but Haru was too agreeable. So was Shigure. He needed someone that was fun to shock. Hatori, of course. The person so cold and distant that it had taken a drastic accident to finally make him learn his place. Akito wished it hadn't cost Hatori an eye, but he felt no remorse for the necessity of his actions.

Akito and Kureno were in the middle of having tea when he heard the doctor's footsteps in the hall outside the main room. Late. Akito's mood darkened when he thought that Hatori had put his other patients above his god, or gotten distracted having a polite conversation with that new servant who giggled so annoyingly that Akito barely repressed the urge to slap her every time she dared come into his presence.

As the sound of Hatori's feet neared the door, Kureno's head turned sharply in a vaguely birdlike motion, placing his mug back on the low table and starting to excuse himself.

"Stay," Akito ordered. Kureno resettled himself obediently, picking up his mug as if he'd never been interrupted.

Hatori knocked on the shoji door before entering, wearing just his shirtsleeves and slacks, black bag clutched in one hand. His eyes flicked briefly to Kureno, but if he was surprised to find the rooster there, he didn't show it.

"Good afternoon, Akito, Kureno," he greeted politely.

Akito smiled. "Good afternoon, Hatori. I don't recall giving you permission to talk to Kureno."

"Forgive me," Hatori said in the same flat tone.

Undeterred, Akito motioned to the stoic man. "Sit down. Don't just stand there."

Hatori came and knelt by Akito obligingly, placing his bag at his side and opening it, rifling through the contents and extracting a pill box filled with the damn capsules that wouldn't save Akito's life, but he still had to choke them down every day.

"Are you in a rush, Hatori?" Akito asked in a soft, deadly tone. "Are you so eager to have another conversation with that ugly servant?"

"What ugly servant?" Hatori asked, setting the pill box on the table in front of Akito.

"Oh, so you think she's pretty?"

Hatori blinked. "I don't know who you're speaking of, Akito."

Akito sighed in frustration. "Why were you late, Hatori? Was one of your other patients more important than me?"

"I had to change clothes," Hatori said levelly. "Souma Chiaki's daughter vomited on me."

Akito made a disgusted face. "Hatori! Kureno is trying to have his tea without being entertained by your gross stories."

Kureno, who had been admiring the garden outside the open doors, hastily picked up his mug and took a sip.

"I'm sorry," Hatori said.

"Never mind," Akito said dismissively. "Kureno has something to show you."

Hatori turned to stare at Kureno, who had an openly perplexed look on his face, the tea mug hovering halfway between his mouth and the table.

"Come over here, Kureno," Akito urged. "Sit beside me."

"Is Kureno injured?" Hatori asked as the man awkwardly rose and made his way to Akito's side, folding his legs underneath him and staring questioningly at his god's profile.

"Of course not," Akito replied, nodding at Kureno. "Show him. You have my permission."

Moving slowly to give Akito time to halt him in case there had been a misinterpretation, Kureno untucked his shirt from his pants before pivoting on the tatami mats so his back was facing Hatori. His fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt, but Akito could only see these motions in his peripheral vision. His eyes were on Hatori, gauging the man's every reaction.

He knew the moment Kureno let his shirt slide down to rest in the crooks of his elbows because Hatori's semi-blind eye narrowed for a moment, as it always did when he was seeing something he didn't quite believe. His eyebrows shot up, and then his eyes finally widened. Souma Hatori reaction of surprise complete. Akito was pleased.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he asked.

Hatori nodded. "Yes...very much so. Did...you want me to check it for infection?"

Akito smirked. "Hatori, are you just looking for an excuse to touch Kureno? I'm well aware of what an infection looks like."

"When did he have it done?" Hatori asked, eyes trying to stay focused on Akito's face, but they kept darting over to Kureno's boldly-tattooed back.

Akito was greatly amused. "We had it done two weeks ago."

Hatori frowned. "You didn't get one, too, did you?"

Dark brows snapped together in a scowl, anger sparking in his gray eyes. "And if I did?"

"Akito, your body isn't as strong as Kureno's. If it became infected, you could become seriously ill and-"

"Quiet!" Akito exploded. "How dare you patronize me! I'm the head of the family! I know what I'm doing! Get out!"

Hatori hesitated, obviously confused as to what he'd done to stir Akito's ire, but that brief pause only served to infuriate Akito even more.

"Get out!" he yelled again, slamming a hand against the table, mugs trembling and then spilling over.

Hatori quickly rose to his feet and grabbed his bag, but for a second his eyes flicked over to Kureno, and that was almost more than Akito could take.

"Stop looking at him! Leave!" he raged, half-rising to his feet. His hand groped for something to throw, but his mug had already rolled out of range.

Hatori quickly retreated, all but slamming the shoji door shut behind him, leaving Akito with fury still scalding the back of his throat and his head swimming with a mixture of adrenaline and noontime heat. He resettled himself artlessly on the floor, heart thudding in his ears and dizziness washing over his senses.

Hatori was just like all the others. All they cared about was whether Akito was alive. He could be a vegetable in a plastic bubble, and they wouldn't be sad. In fact, they'd probably like him better that way. No rage. No madness. Just a pretty man-child in a coma, silent as the grave until he died and slipped out of memory while another took his place. No one asked what he wanted, and when he finally did do something that brought him pleasure, they defied him with disapproval. If he was cursed with his body as a cage, then why couldn't he do what he wanted with it, including defile it with obscene markings.

"Are you alright, Akito?" Kureno whispered.

"Stop hissing in my ear," Akito snapped, rubbing his temples to ease a sudden headache. It was too damn hot for people to be pissing him off.

Dropping his hand into his lap, he glanced over at Kureno, who still knelt obediently, dark green shirt resting in the crooks of his elbows, leaving his chest and back exposed to the heat of the room. Akito found the angular black lines of his tattoo strangely comforting. Even if all his other Juunishi forgot him after he died, Kureno would always remember him, if only as the person who gave him the tattoo on his back.

Akito sighed and scooted over so he could settle sideways in Kureno's lap, the man's arms immediately wrapping around Akito's slight frame. The clan leader draped his arms around his rooster's neck, resting his head against the warm, bare flesh of an exposed shoulder. Yelling always made him so tired.

He took great comfort in the fact that Kureno knew how to properly embrace him. Hatori always gave half-hearted hugs, and Hatsuharu rarely ever returned Akito's affection. Being held by Shigure was one of the most satisfying things in the world, but that happened so rarely that Akito felt despair when he thought of all the times Shigure had deigned to hold him.

Kureno's arms were always willing, always warm, always knew how to mold themselves perfectly to Akito's body. Even with his shirt dangling from his elbows, the comfort of his embrace caused the vestiges of Akito's rage to subside like formerly violent waves dissipating over a rocky shore. He sighed and stroked Kureno's back, fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo he had long ago committed to memory. Kureno would never leave him. Kureno would always be there for him.

"You think it's beautiful, don't you, Kureno?" Akito asked, fingernails lightly scraping the flesh so Kureno could make no mistake about what he spoke of.

Instead of the affirmative reply he expected, he received a neutral, "I don't know. I only saw the outline."

Akito pulled back with a start, staring at the man with a look halfway between anger and incredulity. "The *outline*? You've had it for two weeks, and you never looked at the completed design?"

"I've been busy with my assigned schedules," Kureno explained. "And then I am with you..."

Akito didn't know if Kureno was implying anything and didn't stop to ponder it. He rose to his feet and grabbed Kureno's wrist, roughly urging the man to follow him. "Come here, stupid bird. All the work and pain that went into that damn thing, and you never looked at it."

He dragged Kureno into his bedroom, where he rarely spent time because it was so stuffy during the day. He positioned Kureno with his back facing the mirror above the dresser, a somewhat feminine affair that Akito hated because it was his mother's, and he hated it twice as much because he couldn't bear to have it replaced.

He yanked open one of the drawers and produced a small mirror, placing it in Kureno's hand. "There. Look at it."

Kureno moved the mirror around in all directions, trying to find the perfect angle, and Akito watched his expression, searching for telltale signs of distaste or repulsion. He knew Kureno had seen the outline at the tattoo parlor, but there was no way an array of thin lines could compare to the majesty of the completed design. Akito shuffled his bare feet nervously, and then stopped himself in frustration when he realized what he was doing. The thought crossed his mind that he actually cared what Kureno thought of the damn thing, and he grew slightly angry.

"Well?" he demanded impatiently.

Kureno lowered the mirror slowly before looking at Akito and smiling, an expression that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

Akito's heart pounded embarrassingly hard as Kureno stepped up to him, kissing him softly in gratitude. He was genuinely happy with the tattoo.

Akito suddenly sat down hard on the edge of the bed, and Kureno looked at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"It's stuffy in here," Akito snapped, shrugging off his outer robe, leaving the layers of dark pink silk pooled on the bed around him.

"Do you want me to open the window?" Kureno asked. He still had his shirt gathered in the crooks of his elbows.

"Don't bother," Akito grumbled, tugging on the trailing sleeve of the shirt. "Take this off."

Kureno obediently removed the stubborn folds of the shirt, setting the garment in his lap as he knelt in front of Akito, knees almost touching the smaller man's toes. Akito contemplated the rooster for a moment before patting his hair absently.

"Maybe I should get a tattoo," he mused. "Just to spite Hatori."

"Do you *want* to get one?" Kureno asked.

Frowning, Akito replied, "Yes. Why else would I have brought it up?"

"Where would you get it?"

Akito decided to humor the man. "I don't know. Where do you think I should get one?"

Kureno thought for a moment. "Ankle?"

"Too visible. I'd get tired of seeing it."

"Lower back?"

Where the vertebrae of his spine pressed hideously against the skin? "No."

"Below the navel?"

Right between the jutting hipbones and beneath the prominent ribcage? "No. Can't you think of someplace more appropriate?"

"Left buttock?"

Akito smacked him on the head just hard enough to muss his hair and kill the brain cells that had spawned the atrocious thought. Kureno was smiling, and normally Akito loathed those who found humor at his expense, but since Kureno was kneeling so nicely in front of him, he would allow it just this once.

"You'd better not say right buttock," he warned.

Kureno made a contemplative noise as his eyes traveled down the length of Akito's body, smile gently receding until it was just a vague curving of lips. "Perhaps..." he murmured, reaching out to take hold of Akito's knees, watching the younger man's face for any sign of resistance.

Akito gave him none, merely raising an eyebrow in amusement as Kureno gently parted his thighs, folds of the yukata giving way to warm, insistent hands that stroked the insides of his knees before venturing further upwards, fingertips kissing the tender skin of his inner thighs.

"Something right here," Kureno said, rubbing his thumb in small circles on the warm, hidden flesh. "One on each thigh."

The idea of symmetry appealed to Akito. "What design?"

Kureno hesitated for a second. "A cross."

"The symbol of the Christian god? Why would I want the insignia of another god on my flesh?"

"You could take the design. Make it your own. Just a suggestion..." Kureno's voice trailed off as his head dipped underneath the folds of Akito's yukata, tongue tracing the design on the soft skin. Akito felt a warm flush spreading over his skin as he parted his legs wider, wondering at Kureno's sudden boldness, as if he knew how his beauty affected Akito. Maybe he shouldn't have let Kureno see that damn tattoo after all...

Kureno's head disappeared completely underneath Akito's yukata, mouth touching on hard flesh, and Akito felt his eyes slip closed, lost in a wealth of sensation between his legs. Sight was only a distraction at times like this, when there were only wet heat and gentle suction to occupy him.

Kureno knew what Akito liked. He knew when to lick carefully and when to suck hard and fierce, escalating the torrid pleasure that made Akito's blood run hot and fast in his veins.

Yes, just like that. The heat and damp and...oh, the tender lining of his throat, soft and convulsing, working every bit of him. And the noises, the wet sucking, the slick slide of lips over swollen flesh, searing exhalations over his groin, as if he weren't hot enough down there already.

And still, he burned hotter, hotter, until it was over in a great wash of ecstasy, and he was pouring himself down Kureno's throat. He could feel the motions of the man's palette, his tongue, swallowing every drop.

Akito sighed and lay back on the bed, arms spread wide. Now it really *was* too stuffy in the room.

*

There was something shamefully exhilarating about spreading his legs for a nearly complete stranger. For one moment, Akito understood the dark lure of whoredom, of intimacy without emotion or meaning, to take or be taken by whoever he fancied, whenever he pleased. A morbid, sick form of freedom that his fragile body wouldn't be able to handle.

His head swam with this vision of filth and sex, and he was thankful for the presence of Kureno behind him, chest pressed against Akito's back, legs resting alongside Akito's bare, pale ones. Akashi was as professional as ever, dark eyes paying no heed to the wealth of flesh exposed by the legs of the black boxer shorts.

"This is going to hurt like a mother effing bitch," he warned in a droll tone as he prepared his whirring instrument.

Akito made a snide remark, but as soon as the needle touched the purple outline on the tender flesh of his inner thigh, he forgot all about saving face and gripped Kureno's thighs, clinging to their hard solidity. It hurt like a bitch. He hated when other people were right.

The pain grew so intense that Akito had to accept Akashi's offer for a break after he was done inking the first tattoo. Fortunately, the design was small so the process itself hadn't taken too long, but for Akito, it felt like forever. He tucked his head underneath Kureno's chin, reveling in the warmth of man's body, letting himself be placated by the rooster's soothing murmurs and familiar scent.

Akito managed to sit through the inking of the second tattoo without blacking out or kicking Akashi for putting him in such agony. Soon he had matching tribal crosses on the sleek, white skin of his inner thighs, a position discreet enough where Akito wouldn't have to constantly look at them, but suggestive enough that once someone caught sight of them, they wouldn't want to look away.

He would have been much more excited if the abused flesh wasn't an angry cherry red and throbbing with agony.

"What do you think?" Akashi demanded, snapping off his stained gloves.

"My legs fucking hurt," Akito snarled. He'd learned that no one cared if he cursed or said crude things in the tattoo parlor. It was strangely refreshing.

The artist of pain pulled off his mask and tossed it into a wastebasket with the gloves. "Of course they do. Ink injected into skin, remember?" He examined his work again, hands on his narrow hips. "Though I must say those do look pretty hot on you, and I'm not even into guys."

Akito grumbled at him, refusing to feel flattered by a commoner who made pain his profession. "Get me water."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the man said with one of his typical shrugs.

As soon as he left, Akito felt Kureno's warm lips on his cheek, arms sliding around Akito's torso with uncharacteristic brazenness. Though Akito wasn't in the mood to be coddled, he was surprised enough by Kureno's actions that he allowed the embrace.

"They're beautiful," Kureno whispered, breath hot against Akito's ear, and he could feel a cheek warm with embarrassment press against his own. Or so he thought, but when he shifted slightly and felt something firm and hard pressing against his backside, he thought it might be something other than embarrassment staining the man's cheeks crimson.

Akito smiled. It almost made the pain worth it.

*

"So, where is it?"

Hatori turned in surprise, not at the sound of the voice since he'd already known Shigure was in the doorway, but at the sudden question. Usually, the dark-haired man greeted him with a sing-song "Hello, Ha-san!"

"Where is what?" he asked, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. If Shigure had misplaced something again and expected Hatori to help him find it...

Shigure made a scene of checking the hallway for servants before stepping into Hatori's office and sliding the door shut behind him. "Akito-san's tattoo, of course," he whispered conspiratorially.

Hatori frowned grimly. So Akito *did* have one. It could be festering with infection at this very moment, and Akito would probably never tell him about it. He'd apologized profusely for his unthinking rudeness the other day, and Akito had forgiven Hatori for his terrible manners, even insisting that Hatori have lunch with him because he was certain that the doctor hadn't been eating anything but instant ramen for the past few days, a depressingly accurate assessment. Of course, "lunch" had consisted of Hatori eating while Akito drowsed on his shoulder, hardly touching his food. Hatori hadn't minded. Akito wasn't bad when he was asleep.

"Well, well?" Shigure demanded, eyes burning with curiosity and something else that Hatori would have missed had he not known Shigure for years.

"You're upset that he didn't show you," he deadpanned.

A melodramatic sigh made Shigure's broad shoulders droop beneath the fabric of his kimono, and though the dog tended to make a joke out of everything, Hatori knew there was an iota of sincerity behind his pseudo-depression. "Upset is such a strong word, Ha-san." He brightened. "I'm a little miffed, yes, but Akito-san *did* tell me that I would probably never see it because he would have to be in a certain position in order for it to be visible."

Certain position? Hatori felt dread send his stomach plummeting to the bottoms of his feet. The genitals. If a tattoo in that region became infected...

"How did you find out he had one?" he asked.

Shigure tucked his arms into the sleeves of his kimono and leaned against the edge of Hatori's desk. "Ha-kun told me Akito called on him two weeks ago to ask about tattoos." He sighed. "I wish I knew where to find Kureno-kun. He would probably know."

"I think they got them at the same time."

Shigure's gray eyes widened. "Kureno has one, too?"

Hatori nodded, idly brushing his dark hair away from his semi-blind eye. "Yes. A phoenix-like design all down his back. Tribal style, I think it's called."

"When did you see it?"

"Akito had Kureno show it to me a few days ago." And ever since then, Hatori had seen the image over and over, sometimes the beauty of those simplistic lines triumphing over the wild fury in Akito's eyes as he ordered Hatori not to look at Kureno. He'd never found tattoos particularly appealing, but the harsh design had strangely suited the rooster. Kureno was generally quite complacent, but when pushed too far, those russet-colored eyes could turn vaguely ominous, a direct reflection of the dark master he served.

Hatori suddenly became aware that Shigure was smirking at him. "What?"

"You haven't seen Akito's tattoo, have you?" he asked slyly.

He didn't like the look in Shigure's eyes.

He liked it even less when Shigure leaned in closer, strands of dark hair sliding into compelling eyes that had coaxed Hatori into doing outlandish things when they were younger. "Let's have a race, Ha-san. First person to see Akito's tattoo wins, and the loser has to get a tattoo of the winner's choice anywhere on his body."

"Your pain tolerance is non-existent," Hatori said flatly. "We'll have to carry you out of there on a stretcher."

"Perhaps I'm confident that I'll win," Shigure said with a grin. "That, and I'd love to see you with a dragon tattooed all the way down your back."

Hatori started to denounce such a contest as stupid, but his mind suddenly provided him with a couple of interesting locations on Shigure's body he wouldn't mind seeing a tattoo on.

He smiled, and was given the pleasure of seeing his friend blink in surprise. "Fine. You're on."

*

Those pajamas weren't so bothersome any more. When Akito pressed the material taut against Kureno's skin and looked at them from the right angle in the moonlight, he could barely see the dark lines of the tattoo beneath the thin fabric. Had the pajamas always been so sheer? Akito had never seen Kureno wear them in the light. He would have to make him eat breakfast in the sunlight tomorrow morning.

"How are your tattoos, Akito?" Kureno asked, voice quiet in the stillness of the night. He was lying on top of the covers since the room was especially stuffy. On the other hand, Akito was piled beneath the blankets, the windless night not changing the fact that he still occasionally became chilled even in the warmest of seasons.

"They're fine, I already told you. They've finished healing." And thankfully they had, though the recovery process had taxed his patience to the point where he was snapping at anyone who came near him. His skin hadn't taken the beating nearly as well as Kureno's.

"I could put more ointment on them, if you like," Kureno murmured meekly, voice barely audible as he buried his face in the pillow.

Akito smirked and lifted the hem of Kureno's pajama top, planting a kiss on the base of his spine, right where the tattoo bird's plumage trailed off. Kureno loved Akito's tattoos, and Akito loved that Kureno loved them. Kureno was past feigning clinical detachment when he asked to apply ointment to tattoos that had healed a week ago, and Akito reveled in the reinforced hold he had over the rooster.

He nuzzled the skin of Kureno's back and sighed contentedly, luxuriating in the man's warmth and scent. Kureno shifted restlessly beneath him, and Akito felt another satisfied smile curve his lips. He knew Kureno wanted sex, but Akito was tired and not very interested in becoming sweaty and sticky at the moment. Besides, they'd been having sex far too frequently for his peace of mind. Before long, he might even find himself calling Kureno his boyfriend or lover.

He loved the heated look that swamped Kureno's dark eyes when he beheld the twin crosses on Akito's spread thighs, but lately Akito's body had been feeling the effect of so much vigorous activity. No matter how careful Kureno was, bruises and scratches always marred Akito's delicate skin. Though he was loathe to admit it, he just didn't have Kureno's endurance. He never would.

Sighing, he slid the thin fabric of Kureno's pajama top back into place and settled his head next to Kureno's on the pillow, black hair mingling with auburn.

"I think Hatori saw one of my tattoos today," Akito muttered, drawing the covers up to his chin.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing," Akito said with a frown as he recalled Hatori's strange lack of reaction upon seeing Akito in an artless sprawl that accidentally exposed the bare flesh of his thigh. The man hadn't been dumb enough to nag Akito about the tattoo, but he should have at least complimented him. Hatori's manners were suffering lately.

In fact, even Akito had been feeling odd recently, a condition that had nothing to do with illness and everything to do with emotional discomfort. Maybe some of his feelings were bleeding down into his Juunishi, as it was sometimes wont to do. Today Shigure had come by and actually complied with Akito's demand to take a nap with him. Akito really allowed Shigure too much freedom when it came to agreeing or disagreeing with him. The dog had never disobeyed a direct order from Akito, which was a relief since Akito knew he cared too much about the man to severely punish him. The thought of raising a hand against Shigure made him physically ill, not so much because he would be hurting him, but because Shigure's defiance would give him need to.

Akito stroked Kureno's cheek, grateful for the man's inability to disobey him. When Shigure made the decision to leave the main house, Akito had been too weakened by disease and hidden grief to forcibly keep the headstrong man at his side. He wouldn't make the same mistake with Kureno.

"You're mine," he whispered, overcome with sudden possessiveness that made his gray eyes glint dangerously.

"Yes," Kureno said calmly.

"And you'll be mine even after I die," Akito insisted, voice rising defiantly.

"Yes," came the grave response.

"Kiss me," Akito ordered.

Kureno complied, closing the mere inches between them, surrendering to the urging of Akito's lips and tongue. The interior of Kureno's mouth was as sweet as always, tasting of toothpaste and faint traces of the tea they'd had with dinner. Akito only indulged his desire for a few moments before pulling away, his body telling him that he definitely couldn't handle anything more than kissing tonight.

He tucked his head underneath Kureno's chin, a comforting arm instinctively wrapped around Akito's body as they settled in for sleep. Kureno's chest rose steadily with his breaths, a comforting rhythm that lulled Akito into a half-doze that finally progressed into full-fledged sleep, the vision of Kureno's avian tattoo burning on the back of his eyelids, ushering him easily into the realm of dream.

*

Akashi was sketching idly on a blank piece of computer paper when he suddenly heard the front door of the tattoo parlor open. Refusing to be rushed, he finished the line he was working on before setting the paper safely aside and looking at the newest visitor.

Unlike most other customers, the tall man didn't seem interested in the designs on the wall or how many piercings Akashi had in his ears. He was examining the floor with no-nonsense green eyes, giving off the air of a man who knew what he was looking for and would not be happy if he found it. Judging from his expensive-looking suit and shiny dress shoes, Akashi guessed he had to be a doctor of some sort.

Good thing Akashi didn't give a flying shit about social status. He drummed black-lacquered nails on the glass counter top and raised his chin in greeting when the man finally looked his way, dark hair almost completely concealing one of his eyes.

"Clean place," the man commented flatly.

"Yeah," Akashi said.

"How do you sterilize your instruments? Do you keep them soaked in alcohol?"

"Autoclave," Akashi said. Yeah, this one was definitely a doctor.

The man nodded, satisfied. "How long have you been working as a tattoo artist?"

Akashi idly shifted his shoulders, mesh shirt sliding across the itchy spot in the center of his back where the new kanji symbol for "God" was still healing. "Seven years."

The doc's eyes flicked to Akashi's ear, as if just noticing the parade of rings lining the curved cartilage. Akashi absently ran his hand over his bleached hair, waiting for the next barrage of questions to begin.

When all he got was silence, Akashi asked, "You here for a tattoo, Doc?"

The man blinked. "How did you know I was a doctor?"

Akashi shrugged. "Lucky guess."

"I'm not getting a tattoo. My friend is."

He glanced behind the doctor, lifting a dark eyebrow. "Your invisible friend, I take it?"

The man turned with a frown, examining the very empty parlor behind him. He sighed in frustration and excused himself politely, striding out of the door only to return a few moments later, dragging another man by the arm. The new guy wore a traditional gray kimono and was doing his best impression of a sullen child on their first day of school, dragging his sandaled feet and whining shamelessly.

"Ha-san is cruel! Why are you making me do this?"

"You lost the bet," the doctor replied levelly, unmoved by the man's protests.

Akashi sighed inwardly. It seemed like the good doctor was pulling a Souma Akito and making his "friend" get a tattoo. Unfortunately, this new guy didn't seem nearly as soft-spoken as Akito's boyfriend.

"Ha-san" dragged the man up to the counter, pushing him a little ways in front of him. "This is Souma Shigure. He's getting a tattoo today."

Akashi felt his eyes widen. More Soumas? Holy hell. "You guys wouldn't happen to be related to Souma Akito, would you?"

Shigure abandoned his pouting and leaned into the counter with sudden interest. "Why yes, we are. As you already know, I'm Shigure and this is my cousin Hatori. You'll have to excuse him. He's a control freak and likes to boss people around."

Hatori gave a long-suffering sigh. Akashi's mind was still trying to wrap around the fact that he'd met six Soumas already, and the only thing they had in common was that they were each boffing a distant cousin. Weird family. Though with His Most Royal Highness Akito as the master, he supposed he couldn't blame them.

Shigure placed his elbows on the counter, mimicking Akashi's laid-back stance. "Tell me something. Are you the tattoo artist that did Akito-san's tattoo?"

"Tattoos."

Shigure blinked gray eyes that were almost the exact same shade as his patriarch's. Familial characteristic, maybe. "You mean Akito has more than one tattoo?"

Akashi nodded.

The man whirled and pointed a triumphant finger at his companion. "You didn't win! You only saw one of them!"

Hatori's eyes were on Akashi. "Tribal crosses. About seven centimeters tall. One of each of the inner thighs. Same design."

"He wins," Akashi told Shigure.

"You guessed the second one," Shigure whined. "That's not fair."

"The deal was to see one tattoo, not two," Hatori said dryly. "It's the same design anyways, and besides, I've seen Kureno's tattoo, and you haven't." He pulled a sheet of paper from the inner pocket of his coat and handed it to Akashi.

"What's that?" Shigure asked fearfully.

"Your tattoo," Hatori replied.

"What? You drew it? What is it of? How big is it? Where is it going go?"

Akashi instinctively pulled the paper back as Shigure tried to tilt it where he could see it. He studied the design on the paper and felt a rush of exhilaration at such a challenge...especially in the body area Hatori had specified at the bottom of the page.

He glanced at Shigure, sizing him up. "I hope you're wearing something under that."

The man brightened. "No! I'm completely naked underneath this. I guess we'll just have to co--"

"I thought you'd pull something like this. I have an extra pair of pants in the car," Hatori interrupted.

Shigure was looking more miserable by the second. "Alright, I lied. I'm wearing something underneath."

Akashi smiled. "I'll put this in the scanner and get everything ready."

"I have a low pain tolerance," Shigure announced, still searching for a way out.

"You should have thought about that before you made the bet," Hatori told him ruthlessly.

Shigure draped himself over the other man. "I'm only going to do this if you hold my hand, Ha-san."

"Stop being a wimp. I'm not going to hold your hand."

Akashi couldn't help but smirk at their antics. These Soumas sure were good for business.

~fin

23 July 2004

-- In Chapter 95, we learn that Haru refers to Akito as "Oni," short for "Oniisan." Of course, "Oni" is also another word for "demon."

-- I have no idea how tablets work. So let's just say Akashi has a special tablet.

-- One thing I read everywhere is that every tattoo parlor is different. I've heard there are some parlors in Japan that will do full-back tattoos in a day, though it is MOST definitely not the norm. I'm probably going out on a limb about Kureno's resistance factor, too. But hey, if Rin can survive falling backwards out of a window, and Kyou can take off running at top speed after jumping out of a second-story window, I figure the Juunishi have great physical endurance. And if it still sounds too farfetched, let's just say I'm exercising my artistic license. :P I love multi-purpose titles.

-- I know Akito and Kureno spend a lot of time in the tattoo parlor, but I wanted the experience to be believable and not just write something like, "they went to the tattoo parlor and Kureno got a tattoo it was really hot kthxbyebye." Once again I must thank Rukis and Kuri for contributing their experiences. That part of the fic probably would have sucked without their input.

-- Flamika's ignorance = Akito failing to identify a lot of stuff pertaining to the tattooing process.

-- Akashi's speech for caring for the tattoo was pretty much paraphrased from this site (http://www.soyouwanna.com/site/syws/tattoo/tattoo.html). Like I said, my knowledge of tattoos is severely limited.

-- In other news, I don't know how Hatsuharu got a tattoo when he's only 16 at the most, and the legal age for getting a tattoo in Japan is 18 around the Tokyo area, and 20 just about everywhere else. According to my sources.

Wow, my author's notes are almost as long as the fic!