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Maybe he was being over protective, or possesive, or any number of '-ives' that painted him into a bad fiancé, but he hadn't liked the look of those texts. Junko never talked like that, clipped and abrupt, not unless something was wrong, and Seiji still had something of a hairpin trigger where wrong was concerned.

So he'd finished up what he's been working on, and he pocketed his phone a s headed out of the dorms at a brisk walk, all the way into town. The walk to Junko's apartment was so familiar now, he hardly had to think about it. Not until he had stepped out of the elevator, key already in his hand. The raised voice was recognizable, of course it was, and the boil has a scowl on his face as he opened the door to let himself in.

The scene had been expected, knowing what he know about junko and her relationship with her parents, but that didn't mean it was any easier to look at. Junko, backing away from a frail looking woman that looked like her, and a curious voice echoing off the thin walls.

When his fiancée had came back, groping for the door, she'd instead feel fingers around her wrist, pulling her back against his chest and wrapping strong arms around her. "No one.>". The last was a growl, voice rising.

eight

Seiji laughed, ugly and unpleasant, as he hugged his ghoul to him. One hand around her torso, the other a cool press against her neck, and both sets of fingers were black, darkness tracing up his arms in oriental swirls. A flick of glowing eyes, focusing on the woman's tired face as she spoke, but for the moment she was disregarded.

Sharp teeth flashed as that tendril of hair drifted towards him, a cold, almost bored grin spreading on his face as the hand on Junko's neck lifted. "" His possessions were scattered around the small apartment. Books, homework, clothing, odds and ends. He practically lived there, and no one shy of Junko was going to kick him out.

The hair came closer, shooing him, and in one smooth flick of his hand he sliced a lengthy chunk from the end. ""

There was a pang of guilt, for Junko's gasp, for her mother falling to her knees, but it was second to anger. Not just for for this moment, but for every awful instance of neglect his fiance had had to suffer as a child. There were reasons Junko had dropped her last name. Reasons she'd written her parents off. The Empress was the cause, but Nakano-san had allowed it to happen. Not strong enough for herself, and not for her daughter.

The shriek drew no response from the boil save a satisfied pull of lips that only seemed to grow as snakes of hair rushed at him, circling his throat, squeezing. It was comical, really. The boil was a ghost. The hand around Junko tightened as she struggled to pull the hair away, and only that kept him from shredding it all right then and there. Because it would distress her, and he didn't want that.

"" The grip on his throat was tight, made talking hard, but he managed, even if it came out gruff. "" He'd almost cut Junko's hair, once upon a time, and only love had kept him from it.

He didn't owe Nakano-san anything, but indifferent neutrality, and he owed the Empress nothing but second hand spite.

Claws flexed, rising up to circle around the hair.

eight

Priorities shifted the instant the hair had moved from his neck to Junko's wrists to try to jerk her out of his grasp. He growled, wrapping the ghoul up tighter, pressed against his chest once again, as she pleaded to be released. Only to have the grating rant of the Empress rise up to drown her out. Minutes, and already his patience was spent.

Not just his, apparently. The Mistress spoke up, urging him on, and that in itself was shocking enough to smooth angry features, if for only a second, before a truly awful smile had grey lips stretching.

It hurt to hear that tone in Junko's voice, made his chest ache. Hauling her up off her feet, he pressed his mouth against her ear, murmuring an apology, as he stepped forward and brought razor sharp claws down in an arching sweep to slice through the thick vines of dark hair that were trying to take his fiance away from him.

She was his. His ghoulfriend, his fiance, his future wife and the mother of their future children. There was no way he was letting her go.

The instant the hair retracted away from them the class were gone, and Seiji wrapped cool fingers around Junko's arm, holding her gently as she sagged against him. "" there was nothing satisfying in the sight of the broken woman on the floor, only a cold resentment as she begged the Empress to allow them to leave. Weak. So incredibly weak.

He slid his hands along her arms, an attempt to be soothing, and glared down at the women at their feet. It was hard to watch how very powerless she was. Not the one in control, not like Junko.

Dark eyes narrowed at the curse, and he smiled Asian, finally just lifting Junko altogether so her feet wouldn't be anywhere near the black sections of hair scattered on the floor. "strong.>"

Nakano-San shuffled towards them and Seiji lingered in the doorway, petty, before letting her slip past.

eight

Seiji lay a soft hand against the back of Junko's head as she hid her face against him, and cool lips brushed across her temple. Trying to sooth what were no doubt frazzled nerves. It wouldn't be enough, he knew, but so long as Sachiko lingered it was all he could do.

He watched her, eyes cold, until she was well and truly gone, then he was closing the door behind her and striding from the room and the mess now littering the floor. Seiji would clean it up, Junko wouldn't even have to look at it. He took her all the way to her work room before sitting on a shair, her on his lap, and hugged her too him.

She was shaking, and it hurt his heart to see hr like this. He rocked gently, fingertips combing softly though the hair at the nap of her neck, quietly humming one of her favorite songs while he waited for that fine tremble to fade away.

Why was she apologizing? Junko hadn't done anything wrong, the poor ghoul was the victim in all this. "You have nothing to apologize for." Another brush of lips against her temple, relieved, as a warm hand crept up the side of his neck, that she wasn't angry with him. Gently, he'd move her from his lap, settling into the chair as he got up. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

He headed for the kitchen first, and the kettle that seldom left the stovetop. It was filled and set to heat, then the ghost was grabbing the broom and dust pan. There was a lot of hair from the two small cuts he'd made, but it was all long, easy to clean. It only took a few minutes to make it look as if nothing had ever happened, and the kettle was the verge of a whistle as he returned to it

There was a steaming cup of her favorite tea held carefully between his hands as the ghost returned to his fiancé abs sank down to kneel at her feet. "Here gorgeous, drink this. It'll settle your nerves.