#keito why don't you fire him already and replace him with nazuna or something. get you an assistant who will respect you.

[bloodymoonxvampire]

[ dip ] but like. in reverse. :3

‘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆’ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

There was a period of time where each and every time Rei’s path crossed Keito’s, he had to quite mindfully tell his heart to behave.  There was a time where it was difficult to even stand in the same room, to make eye contact.  Keito’s name was poisoned with hurt, with frustration, with childish dreams and desperate games of tug-of-war.  (And oh, he knew very well how guilty he was-- he’d shopped his dagger with the keenest of intent, dressed for the occasion.  He would never pretend he hadn’t fancied a bloodbath.)

But that was before.  These days, AKATSUKI and UNDEAD worked together quite frequently-- less a trick of fate and more simple business practice.  Even now, at this very moment, they found themselves performing together for the sake of some television show that Rei had never heard of.  In some ways, once they graduated, all of their history seemed to almost melt into the background, overtaken by the trappings of civility.  They were adults now, coworkers, and that fact alone somehow softened whatever sharp edges hadn’t been dulled already.

And that was the vital piece-- the worst of the ache in his chest had already subsided, perhaps a year or more ago.  In the wake of the war that followed their falling out, he’d had quite a bit more on his mind than an ex friend’s sanctimonious attempts at making a pawn of him.  And then, well...

He liked to call the feeling up again, now and then, like pulling out an old photograph.  He liked the glint of that dagger, a light of sorts in a dark room.  He liked to think, now and then, that it was worth dragging everything out all over again-- perhaps especially so, now that it was just a photograph.

Keito cut an elegant figure onstage at the worst of times, possessed of a grace not otherworldly or ethereal, but practiced, beyond the reach of wish or prayer.  There was a discipline to his body that struck beholders with awe, a testament to dedication woven into each movement.  Even Rei found himself all but transfixed at times-- but he, too, was a professional.  He, too, was a honed blade.

However, there was just one thing that blades were meant for, even if you found other uses for them.

He knew Keito had never been very good at adapting to unexpected situations, which was why the vampire had always considered it his duty to shove him directly off of his safe platform of rules and structure, and into the deep end.  And for the most part, his efforts hadn’t been entirely in vain; that old deer-in-the-headlights look seemed as though it had all but died, at least.  The cameras were rolling, the music pulsing a beat to bolster the heart, bigger and stronger than such warnings as common sense or decency could ever hope to match up to.  Once Sakuma Rei got an idea, if it could be executed, then it very likely would.

The lights here were brighter than they were back then, colourful and evocative.  This was no grungy underground venue, no traditionally decorated theater; in fact, most of the people watching them were on the other side of a recording, far away from the little world they were creating.  And there was no betrayal here.  What Rei sought wasn’t a weakness-- not exactly.  His blood-red eyes glittered not with anything dark or malicious, but with the sort of excitement one might expect of a child just minutes before class let out.

And there, in the center of the stage, in the eye of the storm, he made his move.  He chose a moment without singing-- because while there was mischief on his mind, he wasn’t out to ruin the performance.  Such a thing would be cruel to his generous employers, to his fellow performers, to his unit mates, and to himself.  Nevertheless, at a moment so natural it could almost have been scripted, he pulled Keito close, his grasp firm and demanding but without bite.  Despite his whimsy, he was careful still, the hand he pressed against Keito’s lower back as much a request as it was a barrier.  He took note of the wheels spinning furiously behind those emerald eyes.  He could almost hear the thoughts that powered them, down to the very syllable, he imagined.

And in the end, he got what he wanted.  While his partner glared at him in that you’re-definitely-going-to-hear-about-this-later way he’d mastered at an early age, Rei nevertheless felt the stiffness in his body ease a little-- and that was the sign he was looking for.  He guided Keito back into a controlled, deceptively fluid dip, and Keito-- professional that he was-- regained just enough of his poise to sink with all the dignity of the moon itself, rising again with cyclic precision.  It was beautiful-- he was beautiful-- at least from Rei’s perspective.

So maybe he’d backed Keito into a corner just to twist him up a little.  But it seemed to him, anyhow, that it had worked out for the better.  It was perfectly suited to the mood of the song, and to the show they were promoting, no less-- executed without a hitch, and just like that, they moved back onto their predetermined tracks.  He would be willing to bet that Keito was the only one less than delighted.

He hadn’t been truthful with himself when he claimed he wasn’t searching for a weakness; he already knew how to make Keito bend for him, and he was certainly capable of doing so in more appropriate ways than this.  But for those brief moments, he stepped into another world, another life, the one that beckoned him whenever he found himself alone with AKATSUKI’s leader for a few seconds too long.

Even after all this time, he was still and always a risk taker, collecting precious moments that reminded him that he was alive.