Chapter 1

This fic is inspired by the latest film version of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet, and also Celia-sama’s Ruhana fic; ‘Sticky Boy’.  The extracts used throughout this fic are taken from Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare.
I've never studied Romeo & Juliet, so it’s not true at all to the storyline.  This fic will not follow the story exactly anyway – so don’t go “that doesn’t happen in the play!” because I probably made it up, ok?  Heeheehee~ Starry xx

There was a brief period of time that I recall, when we were very young.  We were at the age when we understood death, but didn’t quite believe in it.  An innocent, open minded and impressionable age when I had never held a gun.

I can remember the moment clearly – I was playing with him on the basketball court.  We were rolling a small blue ball along the floor to each other – laughing when it went astray, chasing it when it rolled off the smooth cement into the long grass.
I can even remember being happy – until his mother came for him, and pulled him away.  I sat and watched him go, aware of the sad, puzzled look on his face.  When they were some distance away I could still hear the scolding that the woman was giving him; “Stupid boy!” She had said, “do you not know who you were playing with!?”
And then I felt sad.
He had strained his neck round to look back at me, and when he thought his mother wasn’t looking he waved goodbye.
I waved back, and then Hisashi came with his big-kid friends to take me home for lunch.

I haven’t seen my new playmate since.  But I think of him sometimes – in my now grown up world of big guns and fast cars.
I remember him well because that was the point in my life when I learned of the age-old rivalry, and in time I would also learn to hate – just as my parents had taught me.  

Two households – both alike in dignity.

The Sendohs – and the Rukawas.

The youngest Rukawa pushed his food around his plate slowly – ignoring the disapproving looks his mother threw his way.
  “Stop that!”  She eventually snapped, causing Kaede to drop his fork onto the plate with a clatter and glare at her.
His father did not look up from where he was reading a report, pausing occasionally to take a mouthful of food or to tut and shake his head at the events illustrated to him.
Kaede had long since given up his curiousness regarding his father’s affairs.
  “Where the hell is that boy?”  His mother spoke, more to herself than to anyone else, her gold bracelets jingling as she moved her wrist to check her watch.  “When he’s late like this, I always worry.  Why can’t he be more like Kaede?”
  “Because he’s a real Rukawa.”  The older man interrupted, sparing her a glance over the top of his papers with watery blue eyes.  “Unlike this one.”

Kaede ignored the mentions to himself – he never had found his fathers words meaningful anyway - however little Rukawa-san thought of his youngest son, rest assured that his youngest son returned the feelings tenfold.

The aforementioned now rose from his chair, the leg scraping against the tiled floor of the grand conservatory noisily.
  “Can I be excused?”  He asked, out of routine more than politeness.
  “May” His mother snapped “may I be excused.”
Kaede glared at her until she relented “Okay – if you are finished.”

Without a backward glance, he left the conservatory where his parents had chosen to dine, walked through the extensive lounge and into the lavishly decorated hallway where the stairs led to the upper floors.  A couple of women servants were there chatting idly.  When they saw the young man, however, they immediately snapped to attention and bowed low muttering “konbanwa Kaede-sama.”
He ignored them and began to ascend the stairs.  He was only stopped by the sound of the exterior door opening behind him and a forceful voice calling him.
  “Oi!  Kaede!”
He turned to glare at his brother who stood, dressed in leathers in the doorframe.  One hand held a joint, the other grasped the delicate fingers of a gorgeous boy.  Rukawa ignored the call and bowed instead to his brothers companion, “Good evening Kogure-sempai.”

The corners of Kogure’s pretty lips lifted slightly, his cheeks were gently flushed from his recent ride on Hisashi’s beloved motorcycle.  His free hand was perched delightfully on his leathered hip, drawing Kaede’s eyes to the curve and causing them to linger there.  He admired Kiminobu Kogure, admired him a lot – least of all for having his deranged brother as a boyfriend.
  “Kaede – I ran into a stop of trouble, is the old bat mad that I’m late?”
The younger brother let the insult to his mother pass.  “As much as would be expected.”
  “Holy shit – I screwed the suspension too, Dad’s gonna flip!”

Kaede resisted the urge to roll his eyes, Hisashi had a horrendous addiction with destroying his precious motorbike – apparently by accident.  His present bike had been in for some serious servicing just last week after Hisashi had taken it upon himself to bridge the gap between The Episode and the Crofts Ltd high rise buildings at 100mph.  It had merely cost him a broken nose, but the bike had been less fortunate.
  “What kind of trouble?”
His brother’s usually warm eyes immediately narrowed to sly blue slits, forewarning Kaede of the answer – “Sendoh trouble.”
  “Ahh…” Kaede grinned and turned away, “good luck with mother then.”
  “Quit calling her ‘moffer’ like a little twat.”  Hisashi shot at him.
  “When you stop calling her an ‘old bat’ like some common street punk, we’ll see.”
He disappeared up the stairs before his brother could retort.

Upon reaching his bedroom, Kaede closed the door with a click and looked around.  Nothing seemed to be out of place – his shooting trophies on a couple of shelves above his bed, the bed itself neatly made against one wall, the bluish hue from the curtains made the room seem something of a fish tank.  Underneath scraps of paper and homework which floated, neglected around his desk was his gun holster.  The gun that accompanied it was presently hidden under his pillow where he might reach it easily during the night.

However, something was certainly amiss again, he sensed it before he saw it.  The windows were slightly ajar, allowing a cool breeze to disturb the usually still curtains and to bring the smell of the newly opened Sakura blossoms into the room.

He had not left the window open this morning, and none of the maids were permitted to enter his private room.

He stood totally still for a minute, looking about with much scrutiny, not moving in case there were some kind of motion sensors.  It was not long before he spied the half hidden wire that ran along the top of the skirting board to disappear behind his desk.  He dropped to his hands and knees, pulling the wire off the wall as he crawled, snapping the small microphone he found on the end.

He dropped the mutilated bug onto his desk before flopping onto the bed, one hand against his forehead as he gazed at the ceiling blankly.  “Bloody Sendohs” he thought absent-mindedly – as he had been programmed to do.

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene.

Akira dug his hands into the sand, flexed his fingers, enjoyed the feeling and withdrew them again.  He sat comfortably in his usual place on the quiet beach, gazing at the crashing waves but not quite seeing them.  His gun sat unassumingly beside him, almost with innocence, but well within his reach.
Anyone who saw him might have believed that he was a statue or a rock for he stayed so still, the only movement being his hands in the sand.
His mind was wandering, but he was not specifically thinking.  He was the eldest of two sons of the head of the house of Sendoh – he was heir to his father’s extensive drug empire.
His mother had died so long ago he could barely remember her.
Akira had numerous, supportive cousins who took it upon themselves to look out for him, the closest of whom was his childhood friend Koshino.  They had been friends since before they could remember, they’d grown up together, learnt to fire a gun together, been together for a lifetime…

He was just lulling himself into a trance when the sound of a familiar motorcycle roaring up to the edge of the beach reached his ears.  He turned his head and watched a figure hop angrily off the machine, yank off his helmet with a vengeance and come charging across the sand in fury.

“That bastard!  Look!”  The fire ball of fury brandished a jacket wildly in front of his brother’s face “Akira – look here!!”
The aforementioned calmly regarded the bullet hole in the hem of the flapping jacket and sighed.
  “I would say you’ve been very lucky Hanamichi, it might have gone through your head.”
His younger brother stopped ranting and glared for a second before collapsing next to Akira on the sand, sulking.
  “It’s my favourite jacket…” he whined stubbornly, despite seeing the sense in his brother’s words.
Akira laughed quietly at his brother’s childishness.  “Who did you run into then?  Some old friends?”
When Hanamichi did not answer immediately and his face took on a rather stony expression, Akira easily guessed the answer.  “Rukawas?”
There was a heavy sigh.  “Hai – Hisashi Rukawa.”

Hanamichi waited a few seconds for the impact of his words to sink in, but his patience was not rewarded as the silence was broken by Akira’s embarrassed voice, “Um, which one’s he again?”
  “Akira!”  Hanamichi protested, failing to hide his appalled tone.
  “Well!”  The elder brother started in his defence “I don’t seem to run into them half as much as you do!”
Hanamichi continued to glare:  “Know thine enemies” he quoted.
  “Turn the other cheek” Akira shot back.

There was another period of silence as they sat and calmed themselves.
  “He’s the eldest of the two Rukawa sons.”  Hanamichi humbled himself to explain.
  “Oh – is he the one they say is talented with a gun?”
  “No – that’s the younger one, my age, the Kitsune.”
Sendoh snorted softly, amused at the nickname.  “The Kitsune?”  He scorned.
  “He has weird Kitsune eyes.”  Hanamichi elaborated.
  “Hn.”
  “Oh – and they say he has kitsunes engraved on the barrel of his gun, he’s weird.”
Sendoh looked up at him in mild surprise “They say?  Surely you’ve seen it yourself, knowing all the trouble you seem to get into with these Rukawa boys.”
  “No.”  Hanamichi replied with a gentle shake of his head “I have only seen him once, with his brother.”
  “You didn’t fight with them?”
  “Of course!  Me and Yohei were shooting at them, and Hisashi shot back at us, but that other one… he only stayed still and watched.  Like I said, he’s weird.”
  “But perhaps he wasn’t carrying his gun at the time?”
Again Hanamichi shook his head “no – it wasn’t that, it wasn’t that he couldn’t fight, it was that he didn’t need to.”
  “Or didn’t want to.”  Akira added.
  “Perhaps.”
Akira picked up a nearby pebble and threw it into the sea idly.
  “What’s his name?”
  “Huh?”
  “What’s the name of this – Kitsune?”
  “Oh um…” Hanamichi paused and blushed “…I can’t remember” he admitted, with a great deal of embarrassment.
Akira laughed out loudly on the deserted stretch of beach – “Know thine enemies huh?”  He chortled “Practise what you preach is more like it!”  And he pounced on his unsuspecting brother, initiating a rather friendly – if somewhat rough – wrestling match in the sand.  All dancing Kitsunes forgotten.

~tbc