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The Paladin	By : Tcharlatan Category: > Toshiya/Die Views: 958 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en grey, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
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June [ ]^th - [ ]:[ ] pm
Two young men rested on their knees, resplendent in the finest hand-tailored suits. Between them, on a lacquered wooden tray, rested a flawless white stone sake pot bearing the Niikura family crest, and three matching shallow bowls stacked with the largest on the bottom and the smallest on top. One, shorter than his younger companion, with glossy black hair falling in feathery wisps around hawkish features, took three sips of sake from the smallest dish before setting it back down. A lovely woman dressed in all the quiet fineries of a priestess refilled the dish with three graceful pouring motions of the stone pot. The taller man, blood-red hair gathered back into a loose ponytail to expose an angular face and cat-like eyes, accepted the bowl and drained the alcohol with three sips of his own. The process was repeated twice more, from the medium and large dishes in turn.
The dishes were removed, and the surrounding crowd erupted into raucous cheers as the morning’s long ceremonies finally came to a close, beer and sake bottles popping open all through the room. The newest Head of the Niikura family had been named, and now his best friend had taken the oaths to be his Second in Command. A clamor of rowdy voices flooded the room as the celebrations kicked off with food, booze, cards, and women in abundance, the two young men who had been the center of attention now all-but-forgotten.
Without the pressures of ceremony and attention on him, the redhead bowed his head to his older friend, one hand pressed over his heart. A design reminiscent of reptile scales swept across the back of that hand, the edges still red from the recent touch of the needle, the thick scar underneath incorporated almost seamlessly into the pattern. For all the pretty words he’d spoken and time-honored rituals he’d performed today, this was his true oath to Kaoru, offered silently and sincerely.
Kaoru felt a flush come over him, predatory eyes going near-black as a sense of pure power flooded his veins. Daisuke Andou would never bow like this to any other man, only to him. Those powerful shoulders, deft hands, the sharp mind behind clever eyes, and unwavering loyalty supported by well-honed skills all belonged to him. He alone commanded this powerful creature.
When Die’s head rose from the deep bow, he caught the look in his best friend’s eyes and answered with a smirk, his eyes bright with devotion. When he spoke, his voice was too low to be heard by anyone else in the room.
“I’m yours to command. Say the word, Kaoru, and I’ll hand you the world.”
Kaoru focused on the memory of that feeling – when he had been powerful, invincible, untouchable, always in control – but his ability to access that heady rush was draining out of him rapidly as time went by in this place. How much time had passed? Days? Weeks? He had no way of knowing. Curled in the corner of a bare cement room, nude but for his own dried blood and a blindfold, time had slowed to a steady haze of misery and pain.
Nearby, leather boots creaked, and a soft ~whir, beep, CLICK~ could be heard echoing in the small room. His only response was to tighten the grip of his arms around his legs, shielding as much of himself from view as possible, despite the stark futility of the gesture. He’d lost track of the number of photos his captor had taken of him in the time he’d been here. But he knew what the photos were for; the master of this place had told him many times whose benefit his torture was for. He refused, with the last shred of dignity and resolution that he had, to help the bastard hurt his best friend and his lover any more than he already had.
“Don’t you look so lovely, bruised and defeated like that? Like a hawk with broken wings. Ahhh, this room, with you… it’s almost like paradise, definitely worth the months and months of preparations. Although your screams aren’t as decadent as his were… no, your voice gives out too quickly. Do you think I should tell them that? Should I tell them how quickly you learn? You only tried for that blindfold three times… I was expecting to run out of fingers before you gave up.”
The temptation to remove his blindfold was strong, almost overpowering, but the steady ache of three broken fingers stayed his hand. One snapped like a twig for every attempt he’d made to remove the cloth. On the third try, he’d caught a fleeting glance at the master of this place before he was punished; a massive figure, towering and powerfully built, wearing a dark red hannya mask with bulging eyes and a wicked grin. The voice emanating from that mask was cruel and mocking, and carried with it the bite of unidentifiable familiarity.
“Mmm, but maybe still photos aren’t enough. They still haven’t found us here, after all this time. I’m almost disappointed! I was expecting so much more from the infamous Prophet and the youngest Andou… they must need more motivation. Perhaps I should take a video, what do you think?” ~beep, beep, whirrrrr…~ “I’ll even give you a choice this time. I could bend you over the table and mount you like a bitch, or we could play some more with the needles.”
Kaoru’s body shuddered at even the passing thought of the Needles. Syringes loaded with a vicious toxin that raced through his veins like acid, lighting every nerve in his body with agony. Every centimeter of his skin burned, his muscles convulsed, his joints locked up and nothing he did could do anything to quell the pain. He would scream until his voice was gone, his blindfold would catch relentless tears – an incongruous friend to hide his shame in a weak moment – and he would claw at the cement floor he writhed against in a vain attempt to escape, but nothing existed beyond the pain.
Kaoru was never trained to withstand torture. It was never his place; people in his position in this wicked underworld simply were not treated this way, even by their worst enemies. Though perhaps even if he had undergone such training, it would have done little to prepare him for the anguish inflicted by his captor’s precious Needles. By his own admission, the man had spent a couple of years developing the toxin, testing it on people he picked up off the streets. Those who had survived were tortured into harried obedience, forming a small army of men who wished for nothing so much as their own deaths. Nothing else like it existed in the world, that he knew of.
“Choose, Niikura.”
“I-…” Kaoru’s voice cracked tiredly, nothing coming out after but silent breath.
“I’m sorry, what was that? I’m afraid I can’t hear you. If you won’t pick for yourself, I suppose can just do both. Fuck you raw while your insides wither and burn. I bet you’re so damned tight when you scream like that… mmm, it’s a tempting thought.”
Kaoru’s face contorted with frustrated panic as he tried to reclaim his voice. As much as the thought of that horrid venom made his stomach twist and quiver, he couldn’t let the two people he cared for most see him violated over a cheap wooden table. Die; his best friend, his lifelong partner, the blood-red tiger who followed always at his side, ready to defend his life at any cost. Kyo; his lover, his advisor, the brilliant phoenix with burning eyes, boundless passion, and a voice that shook the heavens themselves.
“Well if you won’t choose, we get to do it my way. What fun!”
‘No… please, no…’
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The Paladin