(A/N: Rosario + Vampire and its characters do not belong to me. This story was requested by 'the go-to guy' here on , so the idea is theirs and I am merely writing it out. I hope everyone enjoys it. It is an AU and a bit different then what I usually write but sometimes different scenarios are good for an artist, right? Of course. As per usual any flames will feed my ego, so critique correctly! To my readers and ninja readers, enjoy as you typically do!)

High Profile

Chapter 1: Provocative Life of Decadence

At twenty-four years old Akashiya Moka had more then most. A beauty with long, platinum hair and fiery red eyes, she was a target for the fantasies of many men. She had a steady job, which paid not only her needs, but her wants in life. She lived in Japan for all of her life and was very popular among the common man because of her looks, personality and dedication to her work. She had completed her studies at school, a private academy like no other. The academy taught her to live, because she always found herself on the edge of death.

Her childhood was not so bright and happy, even if it was a privileged life of grandeur. The woman found herself constantly amidst the fighting of her parents. Her father was an entrepreneur. He is the current head to a international company that provides Japan with over a million sources of work opportunities. Her mother was a humble individual from a simple, rural, Japanese family. It was like a Cinderella tale, but it was anything but a happy ending. Her father, Shuzen Issa, was a notorious playboy. Akasha Bloodriver, her mother, was a kind, loving mother that trusted her husband and never believed the dark rumors that surrounded his business life, but perhaps she should have. When Shuzen's youngest daughter, Kokoa, had been sent to live with them; the sly cooperate executive found himself trying to explain a fling that was year old, as Moka was seven at the time.

Kokoa was barely six.

Akasha and Issa fought like demons. She had believed his lies and believed, with all her heart he had changed from his mischievous past, as he had two previous marriages and daughters form those marriages. Kokoa was the daughter of Issa's second ex-wife: Shuzen Gyokuro. Akasha divorced Shuzen on the day. She took her daughter and moved far from Moka's birthplace, but they would never leave Japan. Though Issa had lost his wife, because of his helpless unfaithfulness, he always supported his daughters. He loved them more then anything and gave them everything they wanted. Moka was fiercely independent, much more like her father then her mother liked to admit, but Akasha was just glad she earned his good qualities, though she wondered about that stubborn nature.

Moka loved her father, but she worked hard for what she had, and even though she knew her father would do anything for her, she had enough experience to know that she can never depend on him. He lived his own life, vicariously, and would never give her mother the time of day, unless she was putting out. The white-haired girl took pity on her mother. Even though Akasha hated Issa for his wishy washy attitude, she still loved him. She swore she would never be a weak woman. She would raise on her own power and stand with her head held high. She would depend on no one, because you could not trust anyone to get done, what you wanted to do.

She currently worked as a model at one of the popular agencies called agence presse a modeling agency centered in Tokyo, Japan. She has been one of the top models in agence presse for four years, working there since her early twenties. She was an instant hit with the directors for not only her beauty, but her brutal forwardness. She was a gentle individual, but at the same time a fierce beast. Her curves were perfect and confidence a must in the industry. The young woman refused to lose to anyone, and she never seemed to age from the stress of constant work. She suffered from anemia so often had to take breaks, but she never let that stop her.

She was proud of her work and proud of her life. She struggled to hide the truth of her origin from the world and would never reveal the bit of darkness that made her life unbearable. She lived in an apartment highrise paid for by the company. She had work early in the morning, around five, and did not get back until midnight, when she was lucky. It was hard, stressful work, but it made her happy. She got to show the world how far she had come, in a place that, if it were to know the real her, want to toss her aside like the trash she felt she belonged with.

They always twisted her words. The paparazzi. They wanted to see what it took to make her cry, but she would not cry for them. She has learned to manipulate them how she wanted. They were her window into the world. They would show the world what she really was, at least, what she wanted to be. She wanted to be loved by everyone and never lose that feeling of completion in her heart. Though, she only pretended to feel complete.

The young woman rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor of her building. With a soft ding the car indicated it had arrived on its floor. Her signature silver-platinum hair ran down the length of her back where it curved over the perfectly rounded form of her posterior. She wore black tights, accented by a pair of knee-high, blood-red, heeled boots She wore a sweater-vest that was also a deep red. The v-neck of the sweater dipped enough to show off the healthy perk of her breasts, while the top itself hugged tightly to her body and showed off her perfect form. Her pale skin was perfect for make-up artists to use her like a canvas, which often irritated her.

She used a removing cloth to wipe clean what remained of the day's harsh intent as she stepped off the car and onto the plush, red carpets of the apartment hall. Her heels made not a sound as she seemed to float across the path. The walls were covered with a plain, beige wallpaper that was bordered with generic, golden edges. Faux antique tables sat along the walls and were decorated with vases filled with flowers that were changed daily by the custodians. She soon arrived at her door. In her left hand she carried her purse and would dig through the sea of various knickknacks that oft flooded a woman's purse. Jingles of wayward change could be heard rattling between her sifting fingers. Ruby eyes would focus when her ears were assaulted by the baffling sound of her own door opening on its own.

She turned her head, body tensed with surprise and mind prepping itself for flight or fight, and knowing the woman's combative nature, it would likely turn to fight. The door pulled open to the familiar form of her agent. The man stood about 5'6'' and wore a simple, black collared shirt and matching pants. Over the shirt he wore a sleeveless, grey, pinstriped vest. His tie was completely undone, and left to drape over his neck in a sloppy fashion. He had short, brown hair which was kept somewhat messy and untamed. Russet orbs turned to meet the relieved ruby gems of his associate. The young man was internationally recognized as the top agent to agence presse Japanese models as they are also known for foreign models.

Moka let out a sigh of relief and tossed her purse, unceremoniously into the male's arms. He stepped back in surprise and gripped the bag against his chest. The woman pushed forward, the male automatically stepped backwards, well aware of her after-work temper tantrums. The male smirked for a moment, but gave a bemused look as he rocked the bag in his arms. Moka sat on the edge of the entrance and removed her high heeled boots in the genkan.

"What on earth do you keep in here? Stones?" He would question jokingly. Moka strode into the room, nonchalantly, as her agent shut the door and set her purse down on the glass coffee table as he followed her into the living area.

The young woman dropped herself onto the couch and stretched out her arms over the spine. The couch was a common two-seater upholstered couch and it too was a divine shade of red. She allowed her toned legs to cross left knee, over right. His question would go unanswered for the time being, because she, at that moment, decidedly held out her hand and motioned for him to retrieve the remote. The apartment building was based on a more Western design so the rooms were a bit larger then average Japanese washitsu. The walls were painted a glossy black. Over the fireplace hung a flat, 25", plasma television. Moka adored her television, and the agent knew well why. The moment he handed her the remote the channel was set the nearest novella.

The agent laughed and settled down beside her. He allowed her to relax for a moment or two. He understood it was hard today and he was rather apologetic that she had left so late because he had double booked her, but she said she wanted more work. In fact, as of late, she has been working herself to exhaustion. He settled his hands on his knees. The young man, who was about Moka's age, stared at the television. He tried to focus on the words being spoken in the drama, but he was burdened by the guilt of his transgressions.

"You collapsed today again." He sternly stated, no question to be held. Moka turned her head away from both the male and television. "I'm sorry." He spoke with great pain.

"It's not your fault I'm anemic," She spouted, before he was allowed to make any other excuse. He was always like this. She has been working with him since she started. He was a kind and gentle individual, but often let others walk all over him. He was weak, and she felt the strong need, a maternal pull, to protect him. "You need to stop assuming all of the responsibility. I am a grown woman, I should recognize my limits." As much as she hated pointing out her own faults, she also hated that he was unable to see how hard he worked for others that did not appreciate it.

She had since come to realize her affectionate worry for him, was due to the fact he reminded her of her mother. She was so kind and loving. She could always see the good in people and even if that tiny speck of goodness was drowned in the stoic sea of their hatred, she would still push forward until that person realized it for themselves, which usually meant a selfless acceptance of abuse.

"Tsukune," She called his name familiarly. After all he tried his hardest to protect her from them. The flash of their lights burned her sensitive eyes. They were not like the warm bursts of radiance from the studio cameras. "Thanks." What could she say to her only shield?

The glaring harshness of the paparazzi's lenses which bore into her soul, disallowed her to show the mask she never removed. They circled like vultures, and fed of the crap that spewed from one's mouth after a long day. They do not see the perfection that everyone else believed in. They tirelessly looked for that moment of weakness. It made you fight harder, and by that time in the day, you have no fight left. You stood before them, an empty shell of what you once were. Moka knew herself to be a strong woman, but at the same time, she knew how weak she was. When those cold, metal eyes glared down her form, she felt as if they could see what she she fought to hide.

Moka trusted Tsukune because he never showed interest. She had known him for four years, and all of the time he has worked with these beautiful women, and high profile models, he always stayed professional and polite. In fact the relationship Tsukune had with a young Chinese boy, named Huang FongFong, was a well known fact around the agency. Huang FongFong was the son to Wong Fei-Hung, head to the aTV, or Asia Television Limited, a television station centered in Hong Kong that carried the news, infotainment and drama shows. The station switched hands to the Huang family about four years ago after the efforts of a group known as ANTI-Thesis aired slanderous views against the People's Republic and caused riots to break out outside of aTVs establishment in Tai Po Industrial Estates.

The Huang family used its connections to end the riots and bring peace to the streets. Three men were arrested, who were believed to be the leading force behind the riots. The Huang family enterprises the media and often airs runway shows for agence presse for free because of FongFong's relationship with Aono Tsukune.

FongFong is quite infatuated with Tsukune, and living such a decadent lifestyle thanks to his family's wealth he often takes Tsukune to experiences international travel. The two men are very close and the women of the agence presse find them endearing. The young Huang boy is the Huang head's only remaining son, his sister having died long ago from a mysterious illness. Many quietly pity Fei-Hung for having such a son, his bloodline will never be continued thanks to the boy's preferences. No one dared speak such things to Fei-Hung, his foul demeanor and heavily scarred features often brought rumors that he was once in the Triad, but he seemed to hold no links to the criminal organization and is even backed by the government for his efforts to restore China's premier media studios into what it is meant to be.

Tsukune smiled at Moka and nodded as the two quietly sat and watched her novellas. Honestly Moka was thankful for the quiet time she had from the media, and even if she came home exhausted, she knew this was her sanctuary. The silver-haired model leaned over and settled her head on Tsukune's shoulder. He smiled and laughed softly at her current temperament. This was much less frightening when "work-mode" Moka was in.

"Don't worry about today Moka-san, this will be fine." He tried to comfort. Earlier in the day he had gone to get Moka her lunch. Her anemia was acting up and it was his job to take care of her, not only that but he was her close friend of four years. He could not stand by and let her get sick.

It had only been a few minutes. He was caught by FongFong in the lobby and they chatted for a few minutes. The young Huang, who seemed to be a year younger than Tsukune, was excited about a trip to the Americas, a place called Hawaii. It was a tropical island that was a romantic getaway for couples. Tsukune had agreed. He honestly could never say no to Fong. The boy was very kind and even with his family's questionable past FongFong had a sense of duty and honor when it came to unifying those that worked together and family, blood or not.

Then he heard the shout. Several shouts. Tsukune took off for the elevator, FongFong at his heels. When they arrived at the photography room several lamps had been knocked over and the buffet table completely flipped. The assistants to the head photographer, Morioka Ginei, tried to stop the woman's fit. Tsukune had raced up to his senpai, he had been working at the company for over eight years now, having started as a part-timer while in his second-year of high school. The older male had black hair, it was slicked back neatly and held by a red bandana. Around Ginei's neck he wore his signature piece of fashion: a wolf's head medallion.

With camera in hand the senpai looked to Tsukune. "Damn it Tsu, I can't work like this, yanno? She ain't eatin' again, is she Tsu?" The older man huffed irritably as the model seemed to be throwing a tantrum, and- anything else she could get her hands onto. "Yer supposed ta be takin' care a her." He had a deep, Kansai accent, that seemed to suit his more relaxed nature and cheerful outlook, but right now, with his equipment getting destroyed, it was nothing like that.

Tsukune bowed deeply. "I'm sorry senpai!" Tsukune handed off Moka's lunch to FongFong and went over to wrangle the enraged woman. Others were trying to calm her and assure her no one was mocking her, or forcing her to do things against her will, as when she was hungry she became unreasonable and quite paranoid. Tsukune had ushered away the workers to go clean up while he dealt with Moka.

"Calm down Moka-san." He had approached bravely, as he was used to her fits and violent reactions. Of course he was tackled to the ground, and wholly accepted his fate. The woman buried her face into the crook of his neck and mumbled against his skin, whining and complaining. He had comforted the woman until she was calm enough to quietly eat her lunch, though she acted as if nothing had happened. Everyone was concerned with her unstable nature, but she did have a medical condition and was the top requested model of the company.

"I overreacted." She admitted, never moving her head from her friend's shoulder. He nodded.

"Everyone overreacts once in a while." He expressed his understanding. The rest of the time was spent in comfortable silence as they continued to watch the novellas. Eventually Moka fell asleep with her head rested on Tsukune's shoulder. The young man surfed through the channels until he arrived on the news.

His brow creased as he lowered the excessive noise until it was a manageable hum in the background. He muted the television and watched the caption scrolls below. He took out his phone and dialed the main office.

"Hello, this is anege passe, how may I help you?" The bright and cheer-filled voice responded.

Tsukune could not help but smile. Who else would be so happy and full of energy at this time at night? "Good evening Kahlua, I hope I'm not disturbing you." He offered warmly.

"Oh! Tsukune-san! Good evening! No, not at all, how's Moka-chan?" Shuzen Kahlua was the second oldest of Shuzen Issa, she worked as secretary for the company, a former runway model but gave it up when she married her husband Fujisaki Miyabi after a tour in Europe.

"She's fast asleep." He laughed softly, as to not disturb her. "Can you patch me to Akuha-sama?" He asked.

"Oh! Certainly! Hold please!" She giggled and did so. The other line went dead for a moment before the sound of the receiver being picked up could be heard.

Tsukune did not say a word for several moments, honestly scared for not only his position at this point, but his life. Shuzen Akuha was the eldest of Shuzen's daughters, she too had a mother which differed from Kahlua, Kokoa, and Moka. Even if none of the sisters were full, blood relatives, they were still close as sisters could be. Akuha was fiercely protective of her siblings' well being, especially Moka.

Akuha sat in her office. The darkness filled the room and left only the computer screen that buzzed with the same news channel Tsukune currently watched. The woman looked around her early twenties, but all of the women in the Shuzen family were blessed with youthful skin. She had black hair and her origins were distinctly more Chinese then Japanese, which came with her familiarity with the Huang clan. She was a bit small when compared to the heights of Moka and Kahlua, but what she lacked in terms of modeling she gained back in her ability to control her business. She wore a velvet blue cloak, a tuft collar elegantly sat on her neck, held pinned by a sapphire brooch. Her shoulder length hair was pulled back into two pigtails at either side of her head.

"Tsukune-san..." Her tone was heavy, full of accusation. She could feel that she had the male's attention. "I trust you will solve this problem for me? I personally selected you to be her agent for a reason." She explained.

"Yes ma'am." He glanced over to Moka, who was still sound asleep and oblivious to what the paparazzi had gotten a hold of. He looked up to the television screen to see a picture of Moka and him earlier today at the office. Moka was sprawled on top of him and clung against him. "You have my word I will not allow the company's good name, and Moka-san's reputation to be tarnished." He assured.

Akuha allowed a smirk to trace her lips. "That's a good boy..." She cooed over the receiver. "Ah, Tsukune-san, your senpai is returning to Japan soon, may I suggest you deal with it soon." She suggested.

"Yes Akuha-sama. Thank you." He hung up and set his phone down on the arm of the couch. He took the remote in his hand and changed the channel, raising the volume from mute. He now had two problems: a mole in the agency and – senpai. Bothersome. He crossed his leg over his knee and allowed his charge the rest, she deserved it, but she would be pissed in the morning...

He'll make her breakfast to repent for his irresponsibility as her manager.


(A/N: Beta'd by GrrDraxin)