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In a world filled with billions of people, the chances of finding your soulbond were almost slim to none. Everyone had one, but there was no guarantee they even lived on the same continent. In fact, most of the population would go their whole life knowing that perfect person was out there but they’d never meet. It was a cruel reality that had since been accepted as a societal norm.
It was more common to find couples who weren’t soulbonded, people who weren’t drawn together by some universal connection, but rather by shared interests. Their relationship would never be as seamless as that with your soulbond, because they would never be literally made for each other, but they still fell in love, and they still would be happy.
When Yuuri first learned about the existence of soulbonds he was six years old, sitting on a foam mat in the middle of his kindergarten classroom as he stared up at his teacher, dark brown eyes wide with awe as she explained the process in the most digestible way six-year-olds could understand.
It seemed beautiful at the time, she’d explained that if you ever have the chance to meet your soulbond the second you lock eyes you feel a tingling in the back of your throat, a slight itch that would cause you to cough until flower petals would escape from your lips and a fully bloomed flower would fall into your palm. It would be the exact same flower your soulbond would cough up, a matching pair that showed they were two halves of the same whole.
Only what they’d left out at the time was how painful of an experience it would be. Because flowers came in all sizes and not many felt good to hack up. They’d found studies that said there were three main sizes of flowers you could get, the smaller the flower, the easier your life would be with your soulbond. The larger the flower got, the more trials you’d be likely to face together. From the pairs they had studied it seemed the average bond produced small to medium-sized flowers, a life with some struggle, but there would be nothing so horrible it could tear them apart.
They also seemed to have forgotten the include that meeting your soulbond after you’ve presented would result in an automatic heat or rut. That part he’d learned in a mandatory sex-ed unit in middle school that they were forced to take in their gym class.
It was around that same age, the Yuuri began to stop romanticizing the idea of soulbonds, as a child he wanted nothing more than to meet his other half. But he was becoming more aware of just how different his upbringing was compared to every other kid his age. He would never be like Yukko and Takeshi who had coughed up tiny forget-me-nots the first time they had locked eyes. If the time ever came for him, he knew it would hurt.
For most of his life, he thought his upbringing was normal, but he slowly started to realize maybe his schooling was slightly different from the rest of his classmates. Of course, he studied normal things like math, history, and geography. But things got a bit creative when you took into account his foreign language studies, or the ballet and gymnastics classes he attended every evening. But even those could still be passed off as normal to the average person. It wasn’t until the rigorous martial arts, or weapon training that things really started to differ. But he supposed no one would probably have realized the same woman who taught him how to do a grand jeté with all the grace of a prima ballerina was also the woman who taught him how to shoot a clean headshot with his eyes closed when he was only fifteen.
Though it wasn’t a surprise to the few who knew the truth about his family. The Katsuki’s weren’t just rich because they owned dozens of successful onsens across the country, that was just a simple front to cover their tracks. In reality, the Katsuki’s sat at the top of a criminal empire, generations of Yakuza leaders having been born from their bloodline as tales as old of the organization itself say they were descendants of Taira no Kiyomori the first samurai. No matter who it was the Katsuki’s always bred the strongest and most feared warriors of their generation. Both Yuuri, and Mari were no exception to this.
Mari had a knack for brutalism and firearms, a trait she was said to have acquired from their father. She liked to get her hands dirty, liked the thrill of the fight, and wasn’t afraid to cut any loose ties with a single bullet. It had been to no ones surprise when she presented as alpha, she had the natural-born strength and leadership a good alpha was supposed to have. There was no doubt in anyone's mind who would take over after their father resigned.
Yuuri on the other hand preferred a more silent and graceful approach. He always had looked so innocent, and so fragile and he used that to his advantage, lulling the people around him into a false sense of security. They had no clue their foreheads were just a walking target that Yuuri could throw a knife into from over thirty feet away. They didn’t know the way he could slip through the most advanced security systems, or the way he enjoyed hearing the bones crack as he snapped someone's neck. He had always been the more deadly of the Katsuki siblings, simply because no one thought he could hurt a fly.
His life had been set out for him perfectly, as the second child he wouldn't have to worry about taking over, and if he was being honest he didn’t really have much interest in being the leader. There was too much paperwork and complaints one had to deal with in that position, and while he was more than capable of handling it, he much preferred to work in the field. However, his life seemed to shatter around him after his eighteenth birthday.
The average person would present between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, it was a natural occurrence in puberty. If you didn’t wake up one day with slick between your legs, or a knot that won’t go down you were probably a beta. He’d accepted that fact several years ago, in fact he was more than happy with it, it meant he didn’t have to deal with quarterly mating cycles that would force him to take a week off just because his biology demanded it wanted to make a baby.
Though that had all changed in the span of one single night, it had been a mission to take out the faction of Bravata that were trying to slip under their nose and steal their shipments. It all was going well until Yuuri had caught a whiff of the most enticing smell he’d ever encountered in his life, it was a heavy mixture of vanilla and brown sugar with a spice to it he couldn’t quite place. All he knew was something about that smell twisted deep in his gut as something wet began to drip down the back of his thighs. He fled before anyone could notice, and that was the only mission he never completed.
At eighteen years old Yuuri had presented as an omega.
At eighteen years old Yuuri thought his life was over.
Omega’s in Japan were objects, nothing more than something sweet and subservient to own, docile creatures that were taught to bend to each and every will of an alpha to make them happy. No one respected an omega, it didn’t matter if he was a Katsuki, if anyone knew they’d consider him nothing more than an over-glorified bitch to be bred.
When he’d returned that night it was Mari he met in the entrance of Yu-Topia, it had been Mari who had shoved him into the scent proof room in the basement, and it had been Mari who decided no one outside their family would ever find out.
Scent blockers and suppressants became a normal part of his daily life, they were strong enough to completely block out his ability to smell any pheromones just like it had been when he thought he was a beta. To the rest of the world, nothing had changed, and nothing needed to change so long as no one found out.
He knew the way his proteges would act if they realized the truth, Yuuri would be cast aside in a second. Which only made him work harder than he ever had before in his life. He was determined that he was going to be the best of the best, so that no one could ever question his abilities. He trained harder, and longer than anyone else, he worked himself to the point of exhaustion and once he thought his body would give out, he only pushed himself further.
By the age of twenty-three, Yuuri was a legend, though he supposed it would be more accurate to say ‘Eros’ was the legend. The infamous Yakuza assassin who had managed to take down some of the most powerful men in the world without leaving a single soul alive that ever saw his face. It didn’t matter what syndicate you were from, everyone heard the whispers of the Yakuza’s deadliest weapon.
Yuuri Katsuki barely existed anymore, most people believed he’d been shipped off to America to lead their American faction. No one had ever suspected that the masked man who showed up soon after could be the same person, not when Yuuri’s real abilities had already been the best-kept Yakuza secret.
It was why when they needed someone to get a job done properly, they called in Eros. So when the Bravata decided to show up in their territory once more years later, he had been the one who organized the entire set up to get them out.
There would be bloodshed, there always was. But the goal had been to capture as many alive as they could manage, especially anyone who looked important. It shouldn’t be hard, they’d arranged a meeting in a private club under the false pretence of discussing ‘business’ with a Yakuza mole who was willing to share their inner secrets.
Of course, there was no actual mole, but they didn’t find that out until it was too late. Not until their guards had been shot down before they even had time to react. Because Ero’s worked fast, and with his team, he worked faster. They’d taken three alive, the ones who had been at the centre of the meeting. He’s caught sight of a pretty redhead as her eyes had gone wide just moments before she was hit with a tranquillizer dart, beside her was a young man who had at least managed to pull his own gun out and shoot one of Yuuri’s men before he was taken down. Then there was the flash of silver hair, whoever he was he hadn’t gone down easy, but Yuuri had managed to slip a bag over his head from behind as he shoved a needle into his neck. He had heard the way the man’s breath had stuttered before his body went slack in Yuuri’s arms.
Both sides suffered casualties, but in the end, the three Russian’s were brought into the Yakuza’s most secure holding cells. Each one separated into different rooms where they were tied to a chair, and blindfolded completely cut off from their surroundings.
“Have you learned anything?” Yuuri questioned as he walked down the stairs into the basement several hours later, having completely washed the blood off of his body, his attention focusing on one of his men who was lingering outside of the vault door that protected the prison-like facility on the other side.
“Not much, the Bravata are infamous for withstanding torture techniques, they’re on an equal level to our own members. The redhead managed to get her hands out of her binds at one point, we suspect she dislocated her thumb. But we caught it before she could do anything and re-secured her.” The man explained, standing as straight as a board as he reported to Yuuri. “The blond has just been swearing and cursing at anyone who enters the room, but hasn’t budged. And the grey-haired guy hasn’t even said a single word yet, he’s been silent through the entire thing.”
“I see.” Yuuri mused as a sigh slipped out of his lips, and he was thankful for the black mask that covered the majority of his face as it currently hid his displeased frown. “Let me talk to them.”
“Of course.” The man replied dutifully, giving a curt nod towards his superior. “Though we do believe one of them might be the Pakhan. Which one we’re not sure as they’ve never shown their face before, but one of the Russian guards was reported to have yelled ‘Protect the Pakhan’ before he was killed.”
“Now that’s interesting.” He mused, a slight smirk curling at the corners of his lip as he glanced in the direction of the vault door.
“We’re trying to figure out which one it is-”
“I think I know which one it is.” Yuuri cut the man off with a dismissive wave. “Lead me to the man with the silver hair.”
Beside him the younger guard just gave a quick nod and quickly began inputting the rather lengthy code to open the vault door before he was swinging it open allowing both of them to walk inside. It wasn’t really anything special on the other side, it was a singular long grey horizontal hallway built completely out of cement from floor to ceiling. On the right, he knew he’d find all of their holding cells, and the left was dedicated towards the Yakuza members who would be left guarding the area, a sterile sleeping area, a small kitchen, and a washroom. It wasn’t fancy, but it was strong.
He trailed behind the young guard, a man he probably should have known the name of but couldn’t remember. With the turnover rate in the Yakuza, he’d long since learned to grow attached to anyone around him.
As they approached the farthest cell Yuuri found himself unlocking the door before slipping into the room. It wasn’t much different than the hallway, completely made of a thick layer of cement, illuminated by a single overhanging light located right above the man who was currently tied to the bolted-down metal chair.
Yuuri hadn’t been able to get a close look at him in the club, but up close he was rather pretty. His hair looked like it would be soft to the touch, his skin a fair shade of porcelain, lips a pretty pink, and even with his eyes hidden behind a blindfold Yuuri knew those must have beautiful as well. Everything about this man just screamed ‘alpha’, and if Yuuri hadn’t been on such a strong dose of suppressants he had a feeling even his scent would have been delicious if he was able to smell it.
He approached quietly, not making a single sound as he walked, yet that man’s head tilted in his direction as though he knew exactly where Yuuri was without having to see or hear him. It was fascinating, and unsettling, and something about it made Yuuri want to know more.
“I hope you’ve been enjoying your visit to Japan.” Yuuri finally mused out loud in English, letting his eyes trace over the bruises that were starting to purple on the man's skin. “My men have been rather rough with you haven’t they?”
He couldn’t stop himself, reaching out he let a finger lightly trace over a bruise that was blooming on the Russian man’s jaw. What he hadn’t been expecting was the sensation of the electricity that tingled under his skin, and he pulled his hand back quickly watching as the man’s pink lips parted as though he was going to say something before they snapped back shut.
“I never would have thought I’d have the Pakhan of the Bravata sitting in one of my cells.” Yuuri stated after another moment had gone by, and he watched the silver-haired beauty’s head snapped in his direction. “My bet is it’s you, the other’s seem capable don’t get me wrong-” He continued. “-but you seem like a different breed of powerful.”
Still, there was no response, but he knew he had the Russian’s attention now, as with every silent step he took as he circled around the chair, the man followed the movement with his head not missing a single movement even when Yuuri had abruptly changed direction.
“I see, you intend on going to the grave in silence, that’s very honourable of you.” Yuuri mused as he stopped directly in front of the alpha. “It’s a shame though, isn’t it? You’re quite pretty. But nothing will send a better message to your men to stop messing with our affairs than the news of your death.”
There wasn’t a sign of hesitance or fear in the man before him, he sat tall, he didn’t tremble, he didn’t plead for his life. There was no doubt in Yuuri’s mind by this point that the man before him was certainly the Pahkan, not when he practically carried himself with the same poise as a king.
“Shall we introduce ourselves then?” Yuuri questioned knowing he’d get no response anyway. “Most people know me as Eros.”
For the first time he saw hesitancy, the Russian man’s shoulders seemed to tighten and Yuuri couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips in response.
“So you’ve heard of me.” He mused as he made his way behind the chair, resting his hands on the alpha’s shoulders as he dug his thumbs into the muscles of his shoulder blades. It wouldn't be painful, in fact it probably would feel nice, but the message was there nonetheless; Yuuri had seen the crack. “I’m curious to know what my reputation is like in Russia.”
When the man didn’t reply Yuuri just let out an airy sigh as he dropped his hands, letting his tongue snake out to wet his lips. He didn’t really need the other man to talk, they’d kill him whether he did or didn’t, but he was so curious to what his voice sounded like, to what he would say if he did speak.
“Maybe I’ll have to go ask one of your friends instead.” Yuuri proposed thoughtfully. “I’m sure the blond would end up being pretty chatty with the right kind of persuasion .”
With that Yuuri started across the room towards the door, letting those words hang between them. As his fingers began to tap on the metal door signifying he wanted to be let out the voice behind him finally spoke.
“Eros, the Yazkuza’s ace. Gender unknown, but they’re considered to be one of the deadliest assassins of the age. Little is known about age, or their secondary gender, but it’s presumed they’re a young adult. Nothing is known about appearance, anyone who has ever seen their face did not live to share the details. They believe their primary form of infiltration is seduction which suggests they were trained as a honeypot, as most of their victims are found in their own beds in various states of undress with their throat’s sliced and a snake carved into their chest.” The voice was deep, their English lilted with a thick Russian accent, but nonetheless, he’d finally spoken.
“Is that it?” Yuuri questioned as a smile curled onto his lips. “I would have thought the Bravata would know more than that, or maybe I’ve just overestimated you.”
He could have sworn the alpha just let out a quiet laugh in response, nothing more than an amused exhale.
“They’re single-handedly credited with taking down the previous leader of the Chinese Triad, their preferred weapon is believed to be knives over guns. They’ve managed to infiltrate high-security prisons without ever being caught. They also managed to capture the Pakhan of the Bravata.”
Yuuri turned back towards the man, making his way further into the room once more. There was a bittersweet moment to all this, because he knew this would end with the Russians death in this very room. It would do wonder for Yuuri’s reputation, he doubted anyone would ever try messing with them again. The only people who dared to these days were the Bravata, they were the only syndicate that could probably rival them in power. The leader was said to be cold, heartless, a man who had quite literally cut the hearts out of those who had betrayed him. Yet as he sat in front of Yuuri he just looked...pretty. A weird part of Yuuri wanted to protect that, and he didn’t know why.
“I hope you have no hard feelings about what we’re going to have to do, you were messing around on our territory.” Yuuri replied after a long moment.
“I’d love to be angry, but I must admit I’m very impressed.” The Russian stated in a calm tone. “Your whole operation was organized beautifully, I’d never walked into a trap before without knowing it was one.” He continued a smirk curling the corners of his lips. “I guess if I have to go somehow it wouldn’t be so bad if the person who takes me out is the Yakuza’s ace. I just ask you to let my friends go, they won’t give you any information and both have too much to lose. The woman has a mate at home who is currently pregnant, whereas the man only just met his soulbond two weeks ago, killing him now would most certainly kill his mate as well.”
Yuuri wasn’t exactly known for his compassion, but he also wasn’t completely devoid of it either, he was just very good at burying it down. But he also knew that they didn’t need to kill the other two, not when they had the Pakhan, killing the alpha in front of him would be all of the message they would need to send, no more lives needed to be wasted outside of that.
“I’ll let them go.” Yuuri replied. “But not you.”
“That’s all I ask.”
“Then we have an agreement, and I am a man who honours my word.” He continued, watching as the Russian seemed to relax in front of him.
“I don’t doubt that. The first thing your men did when they came in here was start with their fists, you, on the other hand, you started by talking.” A chuckle escaped the Russian’s lips. “You said I seemed like a different breed of powerful, but I think that’s more fitting for someone like you. I haven’t seen you, but I already know you could have ended my life the second you walked in here.”
“Flattery, I like that, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Yuuri drawled in response as he pulled a knife out of the holster on his left thigh. It was a pretty little thing, made from gold, sharpened to perfection, and decorated with a beautiful ornate handle.
Yuuri pressed the flat side of the blade to the Pahkan's neck, letting the cool metal sting where it soon would be slicing. Yet even now the man before him didn’t flinch, he kept his head up high, seeming to have accepted his fate.
“I have one more request before this ends.” The Russian stated.
“And what would that be?”
“Whoever sees your face never lives to share anything about your appearance.” The alpha started. “I must admit I’ve very curious to what the infamous Ero’s looks like, and if I’m going to die anyway there’s no harm in showing me.”
Yuuri just raised his eyebrows at the request. Most people who saw his face, had no clue who he was when they did, it wasn’t until they would draw their last breaths that they’d realize the mistake they’d made. But now someone was requesting to see his face, and he had a point this man would never leave the room to tell anyone, and if Yuuri was going to kill him the least he could do was grant him his dying wish.
“Well, I hope the last thing you see won’t disappoint you then.” Yuuri replied.
Carefully Yuuri removed the black mask that concealed his face from the eyes down tucking it into one of his many pockets before he quickly brushed his hair out of his face in an attempt to make himself seem more like the ‘Eros’ people expected him to be.
After a moment he reached out, fingers moving to the tie at the back of the Russian’s head as he unravelled the knot that was holding the blindfold in place letting the fabric slip out of his fingers onto the floor. In front of him, he watched as the Pahkan's eyes fluttered open, he was squinting at the adjustment to the light. But soon Yuuri was able to take in the depths of an ocean in those blue hues as they looked up at him.
“I’m glad the last thing I’ll see is something so beautiful.” The Russian whispered, and Yuuri really had the audacity to blush despite the fact he was about to kill this man.
“I’m not-” Yuuri couldn’t finish his sentence before he felt it, and itch in the back of his throat, like a tickle he couldn’t quite clear.
Only this wasn’t a regular itch, because when he tried to clear his throat he felt something catch down in his windpipe that left him choking on air. With a loud cough, a single red petal flew from his lips into his palm and he just eyed it with disbelief. He moved his gaze back to the man in front of him and watched as the Russian’s eyes went wide with realization.
Yuuri let out another cough, unable to stop it now, whatever was in his lungs was blocking his airway and he needed to get it out fast. More petals flew from his lips before he felt it; thorns tearing up the back of his throat as the taste of blood filled his mouth. With one final last cough, a fully bloomed red rose slipped out of his lips into his hands.
In front of him, the Russian seemed to not be faring any better than he just had, ragged coughs shaking his body as blood sputtered out of his lips until a matching rose landed in his lap and he was sucking in a gasp for air; his blue eyes searching Yuuri’s brown in a shocked expression that he assumed mirrored his own.
“I knew you were like me the second you walked through that door.” The Russian managed to rasp out, blood dripping down his chin, and Yuuri just found himself reaching out to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb.
Roses, Yuuri should have known it would be roses, because that only meant one thing.
This love would be volatile .