Piece One: Life and Love
Throwing herself down on the couch, Ai smiled widely at her brother and wrapped a pale arm around his shoulder. "Good morning, Ai," Michio greeted, giving her a light smile in return. "I can tell you want something. What is it?"

Ai snuggled her blond head against his shoulder, simultaneously tightening her arm about him. "Are you really going to join the NPA?" she questioned. Her voice, muffled though it was with her mouth against his suddenly stiffening shoulder, sounded pained, tremulous. Close to tears, she turned her eyes up at him, never moving her face from its position.

"I already have," Michio said. He had to look away; her gaze felt accusatory and sent the proverbial stab of remorse into his heart. Were it not for Ai's sadness, he would be completely assured that what he was doing was correct. Not long ago - two days ago, when he learned that the Narita Private Army accepted his application - he thought that in doing it, he was helping both himself and his sister. Looking at Ai, he realized how stupid he was. She never accepted violence or any display of hate. What must she think of him now that he intended to use his marksmanship and fighting skills for such a cause? "I'm sorry, but it had to be done."

"No war has to happen, Michio," she reproached him.

Michio sighed and kept his gaze focused away from her, staring blankly at a wall instead. He forgot sometimes how young she was, and this was one of those times. Ai was seventeen years old, not his equal in years, although he had to accept that she was more than his equal when it came to her wisdom. Michio couldn't bear it anymore. He pulled himself away from her and retreated to his room as calmly as he could. "Michio, don't you dare run away from me!" Ai called after him. "You have to face it someday; why not today, before you go off into some battle?"

Standing in the doorway to his room, Michio turned to glance back at her. Ai was glaring at him, dark blue eyes made darker with her anger. "You're dishonoring our parents with your warmongering," Ai continued levelly. At least both of them could remain calm and civilized when they argued. "And you're dishonoring me. I know it sounds childish, but how could you do that, having told me you loved me?"

"Ai, listen. I wanted to do something to save us. As long as I'm in the NPA, no one can touch you. You have protection now, and I can keep our family land so that Mother and Father may rest in peace..." Michio trailed off. His explanations, once so viable and valid, fell short, shattering like poorly constructed pottery on the floor.

"Do you think they would rather have the land, or you alive?" demanded Ai.

He could not answer that. As always, she made the final point and won the argument through pointing out all the gaps in his logic. Michio turned away and closed the door behind him, seeking momentary solitude. Within at least ten minutes, Ai would knock and request another conversation. He knew all too well what would follow; wrong it might seem, but he was looking forward to it with an inappropriate eagerness.

The knock came in less than two minutes. Michio smiled and said, "Come in."

Ai ducked in. She shut the door behind her, making an extra effort to prolong the silence until she sat beside him on his large bed. "Listen, Michio, you know that I love you," she began. A tint of anxiety colored her voice. She worried, if only for a breathless instant, that Michio would someday reject her apologies and her forbidden affections.

Michio's smile broadened, erasing his sister's worries far faster than the drying of rain puddles in the sun. "I love you as well," he said. It was a battle now to maintain control and prevent himself from launching on her. He wanted desperately to pepper kisses all over her face, to caress her as no brother was meant to caress a younger sister. He wanted to be near her, be with her, be inside her. Oh, they had done it before, committed this sin; Michio balked at the idea sometimes, wakening from heated dreams, and as he thought about it, perhaps it was crude of him to go on with this. "Very much. I wonder, though, if we should really keep it up."

"The laws say we aren't meant to be together," Ai replied slowly, as though she had her answer planned already - and she probably did, "but our hearts say otherwise. If I didn't want this, I would tell you so. You know me. Now, do what I want you to. I know you want it, too." She beamed at him and kissed him softly. She kept the kiss chaste, a brush of her soft lips against his, and pulled away too soon for his tastes.

"If you want it, don't be demure," Michio scolded lightly. He caught her up in his arms and kissed her hungrily, easing her down beneath him on the bed to put her in a more comfortable position. She helped him shed her light clothes - it was lucky that she wore her pajamas, as dealing with anything more complicated than a drawstring would possibly drive Michio mad with postponed desire - and spread her legs readily. He groaned as her long fingers brushed up against his clothed erection, teasing him through his trousers; Ai grinned in response and assisted him in unbuttoning them and sliding them off. Perhaps, Michio reflected as she removed his shirt and tossed it away, he ought to have stayed in his pajamas as well.

She brushed her fingers against his erection again, this time intensifying his pleasure with the feathery touch of skin on skin. "Michio," she said. It was simple. He never made her plea, never nudged her into saying anything else. Ai had to but say his name in that voice, that quiet, serious, and somehow entirely lustful at the same time tone that she knew drove him over the edge.

Michio's brows knitted together for a brief moment, and he paused. His sister was clearly no virgin, yet he knew that the disparity in their sizes caused problems. Ai spread her legs a little more, trying to be more accommodating to speed him up. Seeing this, he literally plunged ahead. The first stroke into her was bliss, eliciting a drawn out groan from him and enticing him to proceed with full force. It didn't take long to establish a fast-paced pattern. Ai moaned in time with him, pressing her body down to meet his thrusts.

Finally, in a matter of several more minutes, she was too near her orgasm to continue aiding him. Michio was only too glad to finish the dirty deed, coming inside her with a strangled cry of abandon. His hands on her waist tightened and loosened again reflexively, and he slid out of her as carefully as he could in such an aftermath. "It's a bit like war," Ai pondered aloud, nestling her body closer to his so that they might go to sleep comfortably if they wished. "Not so painful, nor so violent, I should think, but warlike. I suppose you'll always be a soldier somehow."

"At least in this war, I have your complete approval," Michio agreed, burying his nose in her thick hair. He had to appreciate her omnipresent clean scent. "No one could object to the war of making love."

"For such a thick-headed warmonger, you make an excellent point," Ai nodded against him. "I don't need to argue it. Let's just nap today away."

Being agreeable to Michio, that was what they did, all arguments and wars forgotten.