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Behind Bars	By : Meirav Category: +S to Z > X/1999 Views: 3356 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X/1999, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Behind Bars
- 2-Part 2
- 3-part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 3
- 4
- 5
Disclaimer: I do not own X. the Prison is mine
though and is based (in name only) on a prison over here. Pochi Project was
something I saw on Oz.

Author�s notes: the ranks of wardens here
go by military ranks as it is over here anyways. Plus I�ve aged characters who
in X are too young to fill in the roles of this story.

Author�s Thanks:
to Tekoo (Tekoooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!! I�m glad I made you feel
domestic and yes Karen deserves much respect in this story and in X in her
original form!), to Elf Asato (my dear, my darling, many many many many thanks
for the Pysio review and the hint within it, here you go with a new Behind
chapter. You really shouldn�t worry about this story stopping, it�s just that I
have {many} other stuff to write {6 other fics�da-amn!} and it takes me
time to get around and write them all what with me trying to work and earn
money to move out of my parent�s house and all. Anyways thank you!), Shinzona
(ah Shinzona��what have though done to me�.I am so ashamed of this, so unprofessional
and embarrassing, thank you for pointing it out to me or I�d probably do the
same mistake here �headdesk- and don�t you go cracking no whips as no bishies!
They�re mine MIIIIIIIINEEEEEEEEE my preciousssssssssss�..yes I�ve been watching
LOTR, can you blame me for wanting to see some Legolas goodne�.I mean�a good
movie �ehem-), Yukio from AFF (henh, here�s chapter 4 for you, with what Sorata
spoke of and don�t worry Sei-Sei and Suby-kun will come u[p later in the
chapters) and Geuna from AFF (I like your nickname for Sei-Sei XXXXXD) last but
not least R chan from AFF (by any chance? Well, you�ll get the answer to that
soon won�t you).

Author�s Note: there you go folks, the long
awaited Fuma/Kamui chapter, I hope you�ll like it! oh and it�s SH-A-R-O-N-Z-A prison �headdesk- many apologies
for the mistake in the previous chapter.

*******************************************************

Part 4

In the usually quiet and lenient Sharonza Heights, despite
it being the home of many dangerous criminals, the �baptism of fire� of a new
warden is usually a small matter.

A small matter to a well-trained and
Sharonza-knowledgeable warden, that is.

To a new warden fresh from the academy with ironed-in
creases at the back of his shirt which he had to make for the formal appearance
in his rank-receiving ceremony(1), the �baptism is a nerve-wrecking, horrid,
shocking, frightening experience never failing to let go of their memories to
the end of their days.

After this �baptism the newbie is declared a fully
qualified warden in the prison and generally has a better life. No more
back-to-back shifts, no more pranks from other wardens, no more slight
disrespect from their senpais (2).

Pr. Arashi, having started her warden career under the
regime of Cp. Kasumi and her band of loving warm wardens, never had such
treatment before or after her �baptism� for it was against the general
atmosphere in her ward.

Her �baptism� was when Satsuki had finally had enough
of the no computer �diet� forced on her and, maddened, leaped at Arashi with
her claws aimed to carve the porcelain beauty some new facial features.

Pr. Kishuu had her stunt gun, her teargas can and
enough agility to quickly duck the young woman. The incident ended with zero
casualties besides Satsuki in the �hole� for two weeks.

As she made her way to her commander�s office to give
a full report of what had happened for bureaucracy�s sake and for future
education of many more newbies to come, her comrades huddled around her draping
arms and kisses on her, congratulating her for handling the situation so
brilliantly.

Indeed no one ever reacted to such a blunt,
out-of-the-blue attack before and a newbie at that! The incident was passed on
to many generations to come in Sharonza�s women�s ward.

Cp. Kazumi, noticing the mess in the hall, popped her
head out of her office and hollered hoarsely at her women �OI!!! You let go of
her right now you bunch of rabid fangirls!!! Have you no shame? Look at the
poor little girl lost in the woods of you lot! Lt. Sumeragi, you bring
Kishuu-sama here right now!�

�Yes madam!�

Arashi felt hands of steel clamp on her arm and
suddenly the mass of squealing praising female voices, pressing lips and limbs
were no longer entangling her like tentacles of a crazed monster.

She was in her commander�s office so quickly that for
a whole minute she stood blinking and baffled absent-mindedly at her red haired
commander.

�Pr. Kishuu,� the captain boomed suddenly, her
fiery red eyes almost glowing.

Lt. Sumeragi stretched into a stiff attention piercing
the private before her with emerald picks.

Arashi quaked.

�OH MY GOD! WELL DONE DARLING,� the
captain suddenly burst and flung herself onto the girl.

Arashi, who was shorter then her captain failed once
more to retrieve her coherent line of thought as she suddenly found herself
hard pressed against two ample breasts under the bright blue uniform shirt. All
she could focus on was the lovely rich flowery scent of her commander�s
perfume.

Next came the equally
squishing hug from Lt. Hokuto who smelt of citrus perfume and the faintest
scent of cigarettes (she walked up on her brother and tore the cigarette out of
his poor hand earlier that day).

�You have done spectacularly Arashi-chan, so, so, so
brilliantly well preformed! Such performance! Such cool,
calculated handling of the situation!� Cp. Kazumi raved on, pressing her
well-manicured, well bejeweled palm to her chest where her heart is.

�Why, the wardens who came there told me that you
never even flinched, that you never even changed your expression!� Hokuto
chimed in just as enthusiastically.

�Ah�that is not entirely correct madam.�

�Hokuto-chan.�

�That is not entirely correct�Hokuto-chan��

�Oh?�

�I grimaced.� Arashi hung her head in defeat.

The silence in the room, much like its higher-in-rank
occupants, couldn�t fathom the way of thought in which the private expressed
herself.

�You grimaced,� Cp. Karen gasped.

�Grimaced?� Hokuto chimed in.

Arashi nodded, her eyes still exploring the floor
beneath her shamefully.

�GRIMACED,� the captain cried.

�G-R-I-M-A-C-E-D-?-!� Her buddy to
newbie-tormenting added.

Arashi took a deep breath and awaited whatever came
next; a punishment or a joke on her expanse, she didn�t know which of the ones
she found worse though she had a sneaking suspicious she was heading towards
the latter.

�My darling, my dear, my sweet, my beloved
Arashi-chan, nay, today we will call you �Arashi-sama.��

�Oh no Captain,� Arashi heard herself suddenly beg.

�It�s okay to grimace my love, most newbie wardens would
shriek in panic and run away crying to mommy.�

Hokuto nodded enthusiastically, a philosophic
expression on as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

Karen leaped off her chair and flung the office door
open violently �Ladies,� she barked into the halls and corridors of her ward.
�A celebration is required for our newest sister�s baptism of fire!�

Shrieks of joy and yells of excitement answered her
from the women.

Two strong palms landed on Arashi�s shoulders, making
her sit on the chair before Karen�s desk then spinning the chair around to face
the office�s door. The palms began working a wonderful (if not a bit too
forceful) massage onto Arashi�s tense muscles.

Pr. Kishuu was fed chocolate and cake and a special
cupcake her commander baked in wait for this day to come (every new warden
received this cupcake once experiencing their �baptism�) and praised and kissed
and hugged many a time.

Arashi sat on the chair and blushed madly
concentrating on pretending to not be there.

The next thing she was lead to the garden to�eh�have a
breath of fresh air.

Little did she know that just before she was wheeled
out of Karen�s office (for she was still very much glued with fear to the
office utility on wheels) her captain tore her phone�s receiver off it�s hook and told Cp. Aoki of the male ward. �You bring
Sgt. Sorata down to your garden right now you hear me?�

Sorata was clawing at the fence between the two
gardens, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets as he stared at the door
leading into the women�s ward from their garden with a puppy�s loyalty and
excitement.

He watched as Cp. Karen and Lt. Sumeragi brought
Arashi to the garden.

He watched as, having noticed his presence there,
Arashi began clawing and kicking her way back to her ward (with very little
success).

�Pr. Kishuu Arashi-sama had gone through her �baptism
of fire� today,� Cp. Kazumi informed Sorata officially along with the event�s
details.

Sgt. Arisugawa stood bewildered in the cold wintry air
and wallowed in tears. �Kyaaaaaaaaaa,� he informed the ladies finally.

�Do men �kyaa�?� Lt. Sumeragi pondered.

�My angel is so brave,� the sergeant whimpered.

�I am not your angel,� the private seethed.

�My babe is so strong!� The sergeant wept.

�I am NOT your babe!� The private stifled a scream.

�My beloved is pure perfection,� the sergeant grabbed
his fist to his heart and quivered with excitement, his face red and his eyes
shut tightly to stop any more un-masculine tears from running down his blushing
cheeks.

�GET ME OUT OF HERE,� the private heard
herself scream hoarsely before she bolted out of there, into the lockers room
where she changed into civilian attire, dashed out to catch the next bus back
to her home where she shot into bed to snuggle up under the duvet and pretend
she does not exist and that today never happened.

Not only did the day exist, it did not end there. Oh
no, not at all.

She was dragged off to a nearby pub to celebrate her
ceremony onwards. Sorata was there as
well though, despite many a valiant attempts, he could not break through the
tight ring of merry (half or completely) inebriated comrades of his angel�s
whom would not let go of her.

Arashi discovered that alcohol was a wonderful means
of pretending she was not there and actually feeling it too.

That was the �baptism of fire� for Sharonza Hights�
Last Age of Peace�s first private.

******************

Satsuki sat curled up at the corner of her metal and
glass confinement cell, kicking herself deeper and deeper into the corner until
she bruised her back with the pressure.

She clawed at her scalp and forehead as she ran her
hands frantically through her shortly cut hair. Her eyes stung, for many time
she cried while hardly blinking or sleeping to give them a rest.

Her mind was feverish with thoughts of hate and plots
of revenge.

Most of all was the looming boredom hung above her
like a pendulum slowly swinging down towards her. Without her computer, without
anyone here to stimulate her brain she will go crazy.

She did not go crazy in the end; she only broke down a
little. The many changes she�s gone through after her confinement is the stuff
of a different chapter but for now the only thing needs saying is this:

Satsuki swore revenge against Pr. Kishuu Arashi of
Sharonza Heights Women�s Ward and she, in due time, will have this revenge
carried out fully.

*************************

The �baptism of fire� in Sharonza Heights was never
really a very violent event and the principle that whatever happens, the newbie
will never be physically or mentally harmed beyond a certain (very low) limit
was well pressed and preserved in the protocols and regulations of both the
prison�s wards.

A more experienced warden will always keep a close eye
on the pre-�baptism� newbie and be within reach to keep harm from being done so
the event would usually go in the wards� protocol as a tiny incident mostly
joked about.

The usual �baptism� would be a prisoner refusing to
listen to the newbie�s order because said newbie would not say their command in
a stern enough voice and failed to portray themselves as the commanding person
around the prisoners.

In these evens the newbie would have to straighten
their stand, better their voice and re-command the prisoner, even order for the
prisoner�s punishment until what was needed doing would get done and the newbie
would accumulate the correct form of prisoner-handling.

Another form of �baptism� is a prisoner caught in the
act of some form of rebellion or mischief by a newbie. In that case the newbie
would have to scold the prisoner properly, find and issue the right punishment
for such an act and carry these two missions in a way that would bring the
least humiliation over him.

This, most wardens would recall, is the hardest of
acts because often the prisoners still frightened the newbies somewhat and the
sudden power to issue the order of punishment would bring authority�s
excitement and giddiness over them along with the mind-erasing, all consuming
terror of choosing the wrong punishment and it�s miscarriage would lead to great
humiliation and mockery amongst both prisoners and wardens.

Those two �baptisms� were the most common of
�ceremonies� and about four of any five wardens experienced such a scorch in
their first days at Sharonza Heights or any other prison.

The third and rarest of �baptisms� was the
lashing out prisoner. Nine out of ten of these cases were verbal
abuse by a prisoner towards the newbie warden.

It�s not the actual abuse that stresses and
traumatized the newbie but the sudden situation in which a newbie had to ignore
such behavior, keep it cool and react to the behavior in an appropriate way.

The catch in such a thing was that the protocol and
recommendations from most commanders for reacting to verbal abuse is to ignore,
smile or hush the raving prisoner with the right cool and calm from the newbie.

But it was difficult as suddenly the newbie is exposed
to not one raving prisoner but a bunch of other prisoners observing, snarling,
sniggering and mocking, who happened to have walked into the scene of �baptism�
and awaited the newbie�s reaction.

Many newbies fall pray to aggressively reacting by
counter-attack of verbal abuse, even issuing punishment, and there lies their
downfall and disrespect amongst both prisoners and wardens.

But most newbies have their elderly aids by their side
to give them confidence to better withstand this attack and pass the test
successfully.

The rarest of �baptism�, the rarest of events in
general, as rare as prisoners uproar and rebellion, is
the violently lashing out prisoner who launch a physical attack at a prisoner.
Even rarer are such attacks ending with actual physical damage to the newbie.

This rare-rarity is what was Pr.
Shiro Kamui�s �baptism of fire�

******************

For almost a month since he joined Sharonza�s Men�s
Ward Pr. Shiro walked both prison and ward corridors
regally, as if walking on air, detached from the buzzing prison around him.

He regarded both prisoners and fellow wardens with a
certain cool and detachment as if he belonged neither here nor there.

With his fellow wardens he was polite, silent and
careful, treading wisely between social bonds to keep himself
from being overly engulfed by the tiny society in which he serves his duty.

He hardly befriended people and hardly made social connections.
He was always kind and obedient, of course, and never patronized or scorned
anyone around him, but he never bothered to make himself too friendly amongst
them either.

Some said he acted like a princess and thought he was
better then everyone else. Other said he is simply frightened and shocked and
that this detachment is his shell to recede to when he is unable to tackle what
his new environment hurled at him.

Sgt. Arisugawa had immediately adopted him as a
younger brother and never saved his energy when it came to coaxing Kamui to sit
by him at the lunch table, tell him more then the formally given report of his
recent shift and generally spend some quality time with him.

He�d invite Kamui to bowling ball evenings with him
and his gang of non-warden friends, where Kamui would sit aside silent and
gentle, giggling and blushing, pouring out drinks for the lads while
complimenting them for their healthy appetites and powerful bowling swings
until Sorata�s friends asked him why he brought a geisha over when he promised
to introduce them to his new work buddy.

The kind sergeant bought him and the private a ticket
to the first game of his favorite baseball team that season and spent the game
half cheering for his team and half bickering with the smaller man over which
team will win (it appears that Kamui was a fan of the enemy team, if only to
test Sorata�s patience and endurance) and learnt just how sharp tongued and
witty this small, effeminate comrade can be when he wants to.

Kamui regarded Sorata as something to obey to, to
laugh and smile at, to be very polite to and agree with on almost every
subject, but in generally Kamui regarded Sorata as a big klutz with an even
bigger mouth and the tiniest sense of tact on earth, almost as tiny as his brains.

When his comrades weren�t looking Kamui would frown at
them and glare at them behind their back, come up with clever comebacks for
whatever half hearted insult about his freshness in the ward were turned at him
and generally bitch and whine about his condition.

When his comrades weren�t looking Kamui would scan the
naked bodies around him in the common shower and make a careful and steady list
of two things:

A list of good body traits to admire and spy
through uniform shirts or pants. This list included body features
to physically admire might the opportunity to seduce these traits� owner will
arise.

The other list was of ugly or ridiculous body traits
that Kamui kept a closer watch over might the need to pull this information in
the time of argument with the traits� owners might come.

That was Pr. Shiro Kamui�s treatment towards his
comrades.

Towards prisoners Kamui was cold and commanding as if
the spirit of a great leader possessed his frail body. One glare from those
mauve fires of their new warden�s and many of the well experienced and violent
prisoners found themselves dumbstruck and fearful of what might come from the
sweet and sensuous little mouth.

If a prisoner even began misbehaving or slackened in
something, Pr. Shiro would scold him so, glare and rebuke him so, that not only
the offending prisoner�s blood chilled in his veins but the blood and veins of
any prisoners (and often wardens) who were in the vicinity.

His commanding tone of speech was of a preacher
promising fire and brimstone to his flock and as he gave it off he�d edge
towards prisoner while glaring inferno directly at the frightened pair of
offending eyes. Many heavily bodied and muscular prisoners found themselves
suddenly backed up against a wall with cold sweat covering their bodies as they
looked down at a thin, short, girlish boy with two big eyes for a stunt gun,
glaring and barking at them.

All wardens had to admit that if things go on like
this Pr. Shiro will be the first newbie in history who did not experience a
true �baptism of fire� simply because no one dared to provoke him.

It lasted for about a month until Pr. Shiro caught
Shiyu Kusanagi staring at him at breakfast.

It was a very early hour, 05:30AM, the hour in which
the prisoners working in the carpentering workshop, making tables and chairs
for elementary schools to keep their minds off plotting and bickering amongst
themselves, woke up to start their work�s day.

Kusanagi was sleep-struck and still dizzy from ripping
himself out of sweet sleep into this cruel cold world where his kind (sex
criminals) were the lowest of the low and got the treatment they deserved from
their fellow prisoners.

All he did was to stare at Kamui with his sleep dazed
eyes and wonder if this is a male or female warden before him. Surely such
delicate beauty must belong to the other sex, right?

Kamui looked so young and fresh and Kusanagi was very
much lonely and depressed, not to mention not in his right mind due to the fact
that he was half asleep and still in la-la-land in a sense.

Kamui spotted this and began calculating his reaction.
If he will overlook it and let the man stare until his fellow wardens will pick
it up then the jokes about how Kamui made a straight pedophile drool will last
his comrades for the long cold winter.

Then again if he�ll say something to Kusanagi for
merely eating too slowly he�d embarrass himself, let alone draw his comrades to
note the type of look in the prisoner�s dreamy eyes.

Facing Kusanagi on the same table, absorbed in ravishing
his breakfast of omelet, bread, olives and a tomato was the newly recruited to
the workshop Monou Fuma who up until now found the process of eating the center
of his world that morning.

Fuma liked the carpentering workshop for two reasons:
one is that he used it to get some exercise done lifting the heaviest boards
and keeping his fitness after noting the gym was usually occupied with thugs
too big even for his size and devilish mind.

The second reason for Fuma�s liking of the
carpentering workshop was the fact that he used its utilities to create a nice
little set of knifes which he hid on his body and all across his room with
expertise only an old jailbird such as he had.

The carpentering workshop also allowed him to befriend
the shy and timid Kusanagi who, despite his immense body and powerful structure
(even the thugs in the gym feared him and left him undisturbed whenever he
walked in to get some work done), suffered from a terribly low confidence, from
the suffocating prison walls and from the broken heart of being an (almost)
innocent citizen suddenly thrown into this Bedlam, this Sodom.

Fuma offered himself as an apprentice to Kusanagi who,
despite remembering Fuma coming with him in the same armored police bus, was
led to believe that Fuma saw him as a more experienced prisoner and thus held
him highly in his mind. Kusanagi was immediately flattered and allowed the man
to breach his self-defensive shell of shyness and silence.

The shy friendship of Kusanagi�s was a weapon for Fuma
who, in his quicksilver-like mind, began plotting the ways in which Kusanagi�s
force can come to his aid in brawls or perhaps even in the slowly weaving
escape plan.

That morning, as Fuma noticed the longing stare in his
new �best friend�s� eyes, the anarchistic youth did not act out of this fa�ade
to be Kusanagi�s friend.

As he turned around slightly to see whom Kusanagi hung
such looks at and recognized the new and beautiful warden his head boiled with
anger from reasons other then scheming.

Kamui was pretending to talk to Sgt. Arisugawa,
smiling sweetly at him. The darting glances and charming smiles he shot at the
stunned and much grateful Kusanagi were what the merry conversation was started
for.

When the sergeant turned to talk to another warden
about something Kamui raised his gentle arms high in the air and stretched
fully, thus making the fabric of his shirt cling to his delicate slim frame and
made Kusanagi�s mouth water a bit.

When the mauve gems turned to the prisoner and gave
him a well knowing smile Kusanagi�s �best friend� snapped.

Like a storm, like a charging dragon, Fuma shot
towards the newbie to give him his �baptizing�.

With his quick and skilled right wrist, its skin
decorated by a spiky tribal tattoo, he pulled a long sharp knife from the back
of his pants and ran it deep into Kamui�s right shin.

The knife was so sharp, so long and Kamui�s shin so
slim, that the blade ran from one end to the other and became stuck into the
concrete of the wall Kamui was knocked back at.

A sharp, high pitched, coarse scream of pain echoed
through the somber hall where the winter�s morning chill still frowned down
upon those who occupied it.

Sgt. Arisugawa turned sharply, pulling his stunt gun
instinctively and saw the young confident underling pinned to a wall by one
knife, while witnessing the second pinning.

Leering over the small man�s body, sniggering and
glaring, Fuma pulled out a second long knife and pinned Kamui�s left hand to
the concrete.

Kamui screamed again, only this time his voice failed
him, leaving him to hiss and cough blood.

�The prettiest warden in Shinzona, glaring and
bitching at everyone,� Fuma hissed into Kamui�s neck as he licked the
splattered blood drops from the delicate white neck. �See how almighty you are
now bitch.�

The electric blow from Sorata came seconds afterwards
but not before Fuma left the two arches of his teeth marks into Kamui�s
delicate alabaster skin.

*********************

Fuma was caught, beaten, dragged, kicking and
swearing, down to spend the next month in confinement.

As he was flung violently into his half glass, half
iron cell a few good meters from Sakurazuka Seishiro�s glass cage, Fuma managed
to send a victorious snigger to his new neighbor who in return turned his eye
carelessly back to the book he was reading.

With many grunts and swears, Fuma dragged his aching
body to sit on the floor and began wiping the blood from his temple, his split
lips and his arm where his own knife was accidentally used against him.

Then he threw his head back and laughed so powerfully
he disturbed his neighbor and gained a calm �Do try to be quiet please� from
the assassin.

Fuma glared at the regal man in his glass room.

Seishiro glared back and smiled sweetly.

Fuma scanned himself; he was shirtless as the item was
used as a towel and a bandage for his wounds. He smiled and aimed a meaningful
stare at the man with the neat suit and mysterious dark air.

Seishiro chuckled softly. �You have two missing teeth,
your mouth is bloody and swollen, there�s a large purple bruise almost
completely closing one of your eyes and the rest of you is dirty and bloody,
but still you think you can give me that �come hither� look?� He chuckled once
more. Venom dripping like acid. �Silly boy.�

Fuma snarled; blood trickled from the edge of his lip.
It made him turn his head in shame from his neighbor.

*******************

Kamui was rushed to the infirmary and spent the rest
of the day there, a day he passed in complete silence, his eyes burning, his
skin pale and his whole attire saying �murder� and �shame�.

It was obvious that this was by far the cruelest and
harshest �baptism� ceremony any warden in Sharonza�s history ever went through.

His comrades and commanders gave him their mercy and
praise for withstanding everything so bravely.

Kamui tried not to spit in their faces and yell at
them that screaming out was not something he calls �withstanding everything so
bravely� and that right now he could happily use one of that damn devil�s
knifes to carry out seppuku.

As he recovered, his comrades could tell that the
youthful man was secretly plotting a way to get back at the man who attacked
him.

**********************

No one in Sharonza Heights prison, no, in the whole
world loved Pr. Shiro Kamui more then Lt. Segawa Keiichi.

The young man of twenty one, hardly the wisest of men
in the ways of life and the ones living it before his enrolment to police
academy, despite the missing knowledge filled to the brim during his service,
was a true hearted, kind, loving, innocent (as much as possible) cheerful young
man.

He won his ranks due to loyalty and excellent service.
Nobody around that prison, or in the other prisons where his academy buddies
served, could say a single bad thing about him.

The big beautifully shaped mauve eyes, the perfect
creamy alabaster skin and the soft raven locks so preciously framing Kamui�s
face like an artist� picture hit Keiichi like a bullet to the head (or heart in
this case) and he fell, helpless and hopeless, at the delicate small feet of
the prison�s new recruit.

The short period in which the Lieutenant courted the
private was a time of focused energy and blasts of hope with every move Keiichi
made towards the breathtaking young man.

After an afternoon of careful calculation on the porch
of his humble one room flat at the suburbs of the sleepy town nearest to
Sharonza Heights, Kamui decided to take his third-in-command�s offers on.

No one in Sharonza prison, no, in the whole world was
the happiest as the brave lieutenant when Kamui blushingly agreed to go on a
date with him, blushingly kissed him back goodnight, asked him up for coffee
etc.

Quaking and blushing, sweating and mumbling, Lt.
Segawa entered Cp. Aoki�s office to confess his deeds with his underling,
expecting to hear a long raving speech about how wrong it all was really.

The kind Captain, who was busy sorting out a clumsy
anniversary gift for his wife (a fancy album with all their pictures from their
first dates and up to their little girl�s latest birthday party) merely smiled
at him warmly, shook his hand along with a strong clap to his shoulder and
wished him a happy relationship.

�So�you�re not angry sir?� Keiichi apologized, stunned
at this lightheadedness from his chief.

�Good heavens man no, why would I?�

�Uh�well��

�Ah!� Seiichiro darted a suddenly sharp as pricks pair
of eyes behind their slightly dusty enlarging lenses before retrieving the
pair, dull now and mindless as before, back to the album. �You think I will
scold you for choosing a man to court?�

Keiichi tried not to move a muscle might he topple
himself down the bottomless pit on which�s edge he placed himself by bringing
the subject up in the first place.

�I think it�s quite alright Keiichi-kun, if I may call
you that because I kind of see you as a son�no, a cousin, like my cousin
Daisuke, god bless his soul. Besides you�re not the only one here I should
think�if I�m not mistaken our other lieutenant is into the same business and I
practically read the letters printed on Shiro�s forehead that he�s into it as
well�.no no no no dear boy, whatever makes you happy.�

With that Cp. Aoki gave his second officer a look
which meant �please leave me alone; this damn task is doing my head in and I
need every ounce of concentration to get it even halfway right. Please.�

Keiichi bowed, saluted (two things he hadn�t done
since his first day in the prison) and walked out of the office feeling a ton
lighter.

To Pr. Kamui, Lt. Keiichi was nothing but convenient.
When he needed to arrange himself a slightly saner shift time; he turned to the
lovesick man. When he lost his personal teargas spray can and faced trial might
he confess it; he turned (teary eyed and hysterical at first, then sweet and
seductive once his will was carried out) to the poor infatuated officer.

He only thought about Keiichi once when the man kindly
rejected his third seduction attempt claiming he wanted to deepen the
relationship. Kamui shrugged after the entire five second of thought he spent
on the matter and walked to his small flat�s tiny refrigerator to fetch himself
some beer forgetting all about it.

Lt. Segawa stared at Pr. Shiro now trying to make his
mind up about the request his seemingly loving underling gave him.

�I don�t know Kamui�it�s kind of a dangerous shift��

Kamui cocked his head sideways and made a tiny
adorable frown to the bridge of his nose �But Keiiiiiiichiiiii,� he cooed
sweetly once away from the prisoners around them. �I�ll have to do a shift like
that eventually� why can�t I do it today?�

�Why won�t you have that first shift once�once�once��

�Once Monou-bastard won�t be there?�

�Once there will be less highly dangerous prisoners
there is what I meant to say. I mean goodness Kamui.� The back of his fingers
ran along the smoothest of skins, reaching the silkiest and blackest of hairs
at the side of the private�s face. �Sakurazuka is enough of a menace, why must
you have a shift there, and the first of that, when the devil who hurt you is
there as well? Why, you�ve only just returned from your sick leave.�

�Keiiichiiiiiiiiiii.�

�Oh�but��

�Keiiiiiiiiiichiiiiiiiiiii.� A single delicate long
white tiny hand reached out and landed on Keiichi�s chest where his heart was.
Two huge violet gems gazed up innocently, catching the simple neon lights above
them and scattering them around the large irises in million tiny sparkling
diamonds.

�Uh�okay�I guess�but Lt. Sumeragi will be upset
because he got the work schedule of this week all planned out and��

�Who is supposed to do that shift?�

�Well, me but�.�

�Then we�ll switch places, how much of a schedule
disruption could that be?�

Keiichi hung his head and shrugged. He collected the
fragile body into his arms and rained a few kisses on the silken sable locks.

Smugly, Kamui marched down into the basement floor and
the High Security ward, his steps light and merry.

He discharged Corp. Tojo, threw a canceling gaze at
the prisoner in the glass cage (who, despite himself, could not help hanging
his seeing eyes on the wonderful features until his better behavior caught up
with him) and ignored the other prisoner as he walked up to the hidden cabinet
for emergency cases.

He opened the great steel locker, as black as his
hair, as dark as Fuma�s heart, as somber as Lt. Subaru�s wondering mind, and
took a moment of gasping awe to observe the treasures within it.

Oh how many toys Corp. Tojo gave Pr. Shiro as he
finished his shift and left the locker�s key in the younger warden�s hands!

The black wonder box, twice Kamui�s size in height and
three times bigger in width, was brimful with toys made to hurt, disarm,
injure, control and subdue a rebelling and/or raging prisoner.

Kamui licked his lips, his eyes darting here and there
over shiny metal, warning signs, scolding safety procedures and glaring yellow
�may be toxic if digested� marks.

He giggled heartedly until the giggle became a
full-fledged laughter luckily not reaching the ears of the ward�s two prisoners
with the divine help of miraculous counter-echoing in the room Kamui stood.

Honestly gasping, Kamui reached out two slim fingers
and ran their tips (not without a great deal of awe and worship�s quivering)
down the long cold cylinder of a club.

A large grin spread like a lazy cat on his lips as he
reached out the other hand. Like Arthur as he received Excalibur from the Lady
of the Lake, Kamui dislodged the club from its hang.

With the club almost half his height in hand, Kamui
walked back to the two calls, swinging the heavy metal rod as if it were an
innocent walking stick.

Placing the club�s edge on the floor under his two
neatly placed palms at its butt, Kamui stood before Fuma�s cell unleashing his
worse of glares at the man inside.

Monou Fuma stood in the middle of his cell and stared
down at the little man filled with great malice staring up at him.

Sakurazuka Seishiro stopped fooling himself by
pretending to be beyond this small show of warden corruption and brutality, and
observed the play before his eyes impatiently awaiting the next act.

He really wouldn�t give a damn about such acts, but
this play�s unusual actors robbed him of his will to fight back his curiosity.

Corp. Tojo, as he handed command over the two
prisoners to Pr. Shiro, also handed the young man a key to Fuma�s cell.

Kamui used it now, slowly swinging the door open and
stepping into the cell regally.

Fuma took a step back and launched a glaring attack at
the new man in his domain.

Kamui took a step forward and snarled maliciously at
the bigger man.

The vicious club shone electric blue under the neon
light through the thick bulletproof glass of Fuma�s fully shut cell door.

Kamui took another step forwards and the distance
between them narrowed to but a few inches.

Fuma looked down at him with hell�s fire in his eyes,
preparing to attack or defend at the first sign of his opponent�s next move.

Seishiro repressed a need to shout �Come on guys, do
something already� at the two.

Fuma�s arms shot forward, his back arched, his lips
locking on Kamui�s for a passionate and heart-consuming kiss.

They stayed locked like that for almost half an hour,
burning away months of longing, need and love they�ve repressed during the time
Kamui spent in police academy to become a warden and Fuma spent in court
getting trialed on the way to become a prisoner.

After clawing their way out of the gutter where they
grew as neighbors in the shadiest of Japan�s slums, after forging a bond
stronger then steel and diamond with acts of felony and bloodshed, after
uniting in soul, mind and body on as many occasions as they could since their
physical development allowed them to do so, long times of separation from each
other took it�s toll on their sanity.

Now they were gaining it back by taking what�s theirs
from each other as forcefully and passionately as possible.

Seishiro, who�s mind was so consumed by the
fascinating play before him, snapped back to fully comprehend something when he
noticed an interesting detail:

The seemingly meaningless spiky tribal tattoos on each
of Fuma�s wrists joined together to a matching tattoo on Kamui�s lower back as
the bigger man grabbed the younger�s naked behind in the heat of their acts.

Fuma�s left wrist�s tattoo made his wrists create an
intricate tribal dragon when he brought them together, but only Kamui�s body
made the Black Dragon complete (3).

********************

Unlike Kamui, Fuma remained loyal to his
other-side-of-the-bars lover.

Despite many attempts from many fellow prisoners, both
of the submissive type and the aggressive type, he did not get intimate with
anyone but Kamui during his solitary confinement times.

He loathed any prisoner who glanced at Kamui with a
bit of sexual interest and would often use his growing collection of knifes to
inflict a terrible, often crippling, injuries on the offenders.

The only thing that kept him from murdering Lt. Segawa
and hurling himself into life sentence was the opportunity to twist the brave
officer�s love into cooperation at escape�s time.

He still loathed the man and glared fire at him
whenever he could. He enjoyed jumping behind corners whenever the officer would
patrol the ward and spook the man slightly.

Keiichi suspected nothing but a rather keen taste for
sadistic pranks Fuma had, which he had.

Whenever he found an opportunity to gather something
sharp or with the potential to become sharp enough to do harm he�d scoop it up,
which often reduced him to rummage through garbage bins. His free time was
almost completely consumed with the making of these knifes and small daggers.
It earned him a reputation of a psycho and kept the troublemakers and
warmongers off his back.

He tightened his bonds with any prisoner who gave him
the impression of a hidden rebel or an easily controllable able-bodied thug.

Those would usually shun him or try to beat him up,
encounters Fuma squeezed out of due to agility and resourcefulness only a
streetwise, prison-wise man such as himself had.

His only ally was the baffled and much grateful
Kusanagi who was rescued once from a heavy imprisoned Yakuza member�s attack by
Fuma. The anarchist claimed to have Kusanagi on his posse and immediately
offered the gangsters a free doze of the latest narcotics Kamui smuggled him as
a peace offering and a hint that if they hurt Kusanagi they�ll bite the hand
feeding them.

He won a second ally as Kigai Yutu walked into his cell
one fine morning, but that is the stuff of another chapter.

******************

Monou Fuma ended up in the basement floor on three
other occasions:

One after he flipped a kitchen table to bury a
prisoner who taunted him about the amount of hair gel he uses under it.

One after he was caught making a knife in the workshop
(his fifth since the incident with Kamui which led to all his knifes
confiscated) after which he was removed from the workshop to kitchen duties. It
didn�t stop his little one-man knife-making workshop, it only served to teach
him how to avoid getting caught in Sharonza.

One after he was caught dealing light narcotics to
fellow prisoners.

On the first of these three imprisonments Seishiro and
Fuma ran a fluent dialog about the various details in young Fuma�s criminal
life (he seemed to have no other life but the ones of mischief and wrongdoing).

On the second Fuma used Sgt. Arisugawa�s stomach
disruption-induced long toilet break to amuse Seishiro with an act of
full-fledged exhibitionism solo flight which the sorcerer regarded with the
same careless eyes as before but clapped at the end of which.

On the third Fuma was far too busy observing the waif
of a green-eyed lieutenant�s conversation with his neighbor to do wrong.

After Lt. Sumeragi�s shift came Kamui�s and by then
Fuma had formed a small plan.

�Oi,
Sakurazuka-san.�

��.�

�I said oi! Sakurazuka-san!�

�You are so eloquent my dear friend,� the jailed
sorcerer cooed at the young man over the rims of his plastic teacup.

�Yea yeah, whatever. Remember that thing you said
about using magic do to crime and stuff, whatcha-call-it onm-what?�

�Onmyoujitsu��

�Yeah, that�oh put some clothes on Kamui, I can�t
concentrate.�

Kamui glared but hurried his shirt�s buttoning smiling
contently to himself.

�So�Sakurazuka-san, do you still remember any spells?�

Seishiro placed his teacup down on the glass table and
straightened a powerfully testing gaze at the young prisoner.

�What kind of spells?� he asked once a powerful,
resolved and meaningful gaze answered his stare.

�Something that can, say, break walls, just for
example that is��

Seishiro smiled widely, exposing his immaculately
white teeth (the wonders of being forced to quit smoking does to one�s
nicotine-yellow fangs).

�There is a spell such as that. Only there are two
problems with it.�

�Problems? I don�t like problems when I�m plotting an
escape from prison.�

Seishiro snickered; the young these days are so
impatient. �The biggest problem is that I cannot show you the spell; I have to
write it and,� he turned around to gesture for his incompetent cell, �I have no
means to do so.�

�Why?�

�Because it�s a symbol one must draw on the wall in
need of ridding and I don�t have a pen, pencil etc., nor paper to draw it for
you.�

Fuma mused for a while.

He turned to Kamui. �Ne, precious, copy the symbol
down to a piece of paper for me will ya?�

Kamui smiled and nodded. He finished the last touches
to bring his uniforms back to their former appearance and walked out of the
cell.

He observed the trail Seishiro traced on the glass of
his cell�s wall and jotted it down on a piece of paper he fished from the
warden�s post�s desk.

He repeated the process until Seishiro nodded at him
that the symbol was perfectly copied.

�Theirs is a second problem Fuma-kun.�

�Don�t call me that. Thank you, precious.� Fuma
absorbed himself in the passionate kiss he used to thank his lover as the
younger man handed him the paper with the symbol on it.

�Are you listening Fuma-kun?�

�Yes, I am now, what�s the problem?�

�The symbol has to be made with blood, freshly drawn
blood. The deeper the injury the blood was drawn from the stronger the spell.
If the blood will be from a freshly killed virgin woman the spell will cause an
explosion strong enough to knock down a few walls.�

As he spoke Seishiro�s voice was even and cool as icy
wind, his gaze steady and emotionless, as if he was a teacher and Fuma a pupil
in science class.

�Ah.� Fuma�s eyes glinted with bloodlust; his toothy
grin dripping of an impatient need to do harm. �That is not a problem at all
Sakurazuka-san.�

Kamui reflected Fuma�s smile.

(tbc)

*******************************************************

(1) a habit stressed into newbie soldiers in the IDF
once finishing basic training and/or the course of their specific service (like
in my case) and in any other formal public ceremony. I put it in because it�s a
good way of getting the �newbie� notion through�.I think so anyways.

(2) another IDF tradition. Or is it a general disease
within militaries wherever they�d be?

(3)yes I like writing about tattoos, yes I like it
because I have a few of my own, no I do NOT like Zorin thank-you-very-much.
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Behind Bars