Shounen-ai: heavily implied Seishirou x Subaru
Created 19th July 2005

The assassin, the leader of his clan who goes by the name of Seishirou Sakurazuka, is Perfect.

His casual yet flawlessly-tailored suits are perfect; never a wrinkle or crease out of place.
The dark of the suits, Subaru once commented, is that of the dark of his soul - a complete and utter blackness that no light will ever obliterate because the darkness is too , however, would rather say that the suits are only a reflection of what he does – for he only kills those who are worthy, and those who are worthy are those hand-picked by him, and who now have, thanks to his handy-work, shattered hearts which will never see the light again.

His movement is perfect; always the fluid movement of a hunter stalking its prey.
Seishirou moves the way a tiger would move – confidently and unhurriedly, and almost lazy in its approach, though the kill itself is anything but lazy. Subaru says his walk is that of a vampire, so elegant and refined yet innately would prefer to say that his walk is that of a dancer, so supremely well-practiced in timing and in grace that every step, every lift of the hand, every thrust with pale hand into the chest of one soon dead is carried out without hesitation.

His voice is perfect; ever smooth and lilting and playful with his intentions, even if the intentions are not known by the listener at the time.
His voice, mused Subaru at one point, was that of a hypnotist, so skilled at speech and so mesmerizing that one would fall happily under his spell, and not realize until later that there had ever been a spell , on the other hand, would much rather think of his voice as poison rather than a spell, for it is not magick, but rather a honeyed potion that others willingly take in when he whispers in one's ear, and tells a person that he loves them, much in the same way that he will politely ask a young woman on the street what time it is and still yield an answer she will be only too happy to give to the handsome, charming man before her.

His touch is perfect; silk on the wind so light and sensuous.
Subaru once murmured that his touch was that of a demon, so creeping and so slow and so subtle that your hair on the back of your neck would stand on end at the same time your own body would betray you as you leant into the touch, always yearning for more even as inside you recoiled in would argue that his touch is no succubus, because whilst his victims are afraid, they receive so much pleasure from the touch that they would beg him not to stop, not to cease the slow glide from ankle to thigh, nor the roving hand so cool yet so burning on one's face, nor still the capturing of kiss after kiss, both at once gentle and bruising, loving and forceful, soothing and abusive.

His smile is perfect; careless and disarming with friendliness.
Subaru pondered one morning, so long ago, that his smile is that of death itself, forbidding but welcome to those whom Seishirou has gifted it, because how could anyone who sees it and recognises it for what it is truly wish to live after they knew what would result from that predatory upturning of well-shaped Seishirou would disagree, and point out that the smile is only the smile of a man who knows what he must do, and carries the action out with no regret for the destiny he has been bestowed. So he will smile all the time no matter what he does, whether it be to graciously stand aside so that another can walk in the door of the building before he does, or to lie against another and feel the body trembling, in both disgust and anticipation, against his own, or to slouch, finally, gloriously dying in the arms of the one who will one day kill him as soon as fall in love with him and hate him in the same breath.

Seishirou Sakurazuka is only a mortal man, who will one day die from the cause of, and in the shuddering arms of, the man who will become the Sakurazukamori after him, as destiny decrees.
He looks forward to the day, because he knows that his death, as will as his life, will be just as perfect in its own way, the steady flow of crimson not marring but enhancing the way his life will flow into death just as those he killed once did. When the day of his death finally arrives, Seishirou will, with perfect appearance still so dark, with perfect movement still so fluid, with perfect voice still so smooth, with perfect touch still so light, and with perfect smile so careless, whisper into Subaru's ear the last words he will ever speak, and thus end his life. And Subaru will then weep for the last time, even as a great numbness spreads from head to toe, because he knows only too well what he has lost, and will never hope to gain once more.

Seishirou Sakurazuka is Perfection.