Chapter Text
Dear Readers, Do I have a treat for you!
The first article begins, tastefully shunted off to one of the sidebars of the Profits news feed. Obviously the news' sheet couldn't give a story about porn top billing. But nor were they going to ignore the delicious little morsel Karin had offered the barely-relevant paper. Oh, they were going to love the traffic they got when the full story hit.
Everyone knows that Shades of Purple, the best-selling romance novel by newcomer Sasuke Uchiha, was written based upon interviews with a real-live BDSM demon. The scenarios that set all of our collective hearts pumping were concocted from the experiences of a mysterious Mr. Murasaki, the identity of whom Mr. Uchiha has kindly kept from public eye. Or perhaps to keep the man to himself, as this intrepid reporter has suggested before?
Indeed, who wouldn't wish to know more about the suave, refined, and devious Mr. Edward Purple? How did he and Mr. Uchiha meet? How did he discover his Dominant Nature? And how could you catch this sex-demon's eye?
Unfortunately, the notoriously reclusive Mr. Uchiha has stalwartly refused to even hint at his source in the BDSM community. But this reporter has never shied away from a challenge, and by studying the work itself, I have discovered the identity of our mysterious dom.
And I have an interview.
Wish me luck, Sensors!
Karin Uzumaki,
The Secret Sensor
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So perhaps Karin had bent the truth a bit when she implied that she had an interview in the journalistic sense. She did, indeed, have an interview set up with the only man who could possibly Sasuke's source. She knew this from laborious nights tracking the identity and proclivities of every single man (and woman) the author had been seen with over the course of his writing the book. (Suigetsu called this stalking. Karin told him that it didn't count since she was only stalking her author-crush in the past, not the present. Sui didn't agree, but helped her steal the camera footage nonetheless.) It could only be one of them, and she'd got an interview, sure enough.
It was just that it wasn't exactly an...upfront interview.
The man - an immensely prestigious specialist doctor who's career would be ruined if anyone became aware of his connection to the book's Mr. Purple - was hiring out for a secretary. And with all of the sham references her paper could provide, Karin had dashed to the top of the queue and right into the running for best apparent confidant the man might have. She would soar through the interview, land a job she was more than qualified for, and write a best-selling tell-all that would get her permanent posting at the Profit while at the same time winning her way into Sasuke's notice.
That was the plan, at least. Unfortunately the minute she walked into Yakushi Kabuto's office, everything went to hell.
----------------------
The first thing I learned about Mr. Murasaki was that he is nothing like the man in the book. Oh, sure, there are some obvious similarities - profession, height, glasses - but the things that stood out in our lovable Dom were noticeably absent in the well-built man I interviewed. Those beautiful fingers, for instance, that Mr. Uchiha spares no loving detail upon. Remember how our dear heroine melts into those long, finely manicured digits, bespelled by Mr. Purple's dangerous technique? Remember how we, and along with our unnamed protagonist, gasped and were lost in his shimmering purple eyes and held so tenderly against his lithe form?
Well, sorry to say, that's all fiction. The real Mr. Murasaki is the picture of stoic boredom, his nature hidden behind professionalism and prematurely grey hair. He walks like a soldier, not a tiger, with no wasted movement or sultry roll in his stride. Gone are the beautiful cool hands, the lithe digits, the perfect nails, replaced instead with with broad, warm fingers, nails cut to the quick and palms that are smooth from his constant use of antibacterial hand-soap.
He looks like a family physician, not a powerhouse of disguised lust. In a word - he's forgettable.
And all that lead to me forgetting the most important thing about Mr. Purple - his intelligence.
-------------------
Yakushi Kabuto stared over the edges of his thick round glasses. It was quickly becoming an infuriating habit.
His office was nothing like she had expected: it was in a well-lit prestigious skyrise, welcoming oak panels and bright open windows that reflected the sunlight into every hidden nook, chasing any hint of darkness or mystery away. He shared the office with three other doctors - another surgeon, a psychiatrist and an elite pharmacist of all things. The four seemed to share the same secretary, a battle-ax of a woman whose smile flashed out only when seeing a patient and an eyebrow that skyrocketed when Karin introduced herself.
The woman - Roxi her name-plate said - had taken a long look up and down Karin's outfit, distaste completely unveiled. Karin hadn't cared. It wasn't another secretary she needed to impress, but the master, and heels, a professional suit-skirt and an a minimal amount of makeup to imply innocence were all things that the book had implied were irresistible to the dom.
Roxi had directed her to the office of the most senior surgeon, and Karin had waited, patiently sitting, while snooping as much as her stationary position would allow. Fifteen minutes allowed her time to fix her blouse to a slightly more revealing angle, check her hair to ensure it hadn't escaped the carefully constructed facade of boring innocence, and discover that Mr. Yakushi had every single copy of the journal Gender and Sexual Identity behind his desk where it would always be within reach.
She also noticed that there were no pictures of friends or family anywhere around the room, and that the door could only be locked from the inside and even then there was a secondary exit through the surgery entrance. And the door was left open a crack, allowing anyone inside the room to hear - if not the words - then at least the tone of voice from all adjacent rooms.
All very strange, for a man who was supposed to be so controlling as to have put soundproofing in his private office so that he could do whatever he wished to his play-thing without ever alerting the other doctors.
And then, just when she was just beginning to get bored and had almost given in to her temptation to get up and really start to snoop...
He walked through the surgery door, and all her preconceptions shattered.
Yakushi Kabuto was not lithe.
Yakushi Kabuto did not have blond hair.
Yakushi Kabuto did not wear a suit at all times.
And above all, Yakushi Kabuto had a bright, warm smile that froze for a second when he saw her, and then snapped back into one of such forced professionalism that she was left whiplashed by the second of something else that she had seen on his face.
Later, she was surprised he didn't kick her out right then.
"Karin Uzumaki?" He extended a hand, after quickly sanitizing it with the disinfectant pump on his desk. The remaining liquid tingled on her skin as she returned the handshake, firm and professional from years of practice.
"Yessir." She answered, trying to remember the appropriate amount of fluster, despite the fact that when she was confused - as she was - it was far easier to fall back on brusque sarcasm rather than pretty cuteness.
"You have excellent references." He gestured to the chair she'd been sitting in, then took his own place behind his desk. Somehow, it looked wrong for a man with such a serious desk and professional stoic expression to be wearing scrubs. "So excellent that it makes me wonder why you have chosen to apply to this office rather than a more...prestigious institution."
Karin hid a gulp. Had he checked all of the references? Had he noticed that they all had in fact come from the same company, and wouldn't hold up to more than a few hours of scrutiny? Mr. Purple would have noticed, and have already used this fact to his advantage, putting Karin at an apparent disadvantage and luring her into a net of desperation. Karin had prepared to fake all of that nervousness. But Yakushi's tactic was one she hadn't prepared for at all.
"Its just...the work you do here is so important!" Did that sound too eager? It probably did, but there was nothing Karin could do about it now.
Yakushi was silent for a moment, looking at her levelly over his coke-bottle glasses. Mr. Purple would have never stood for something so out of fashion - even if they did offer better peripheral vision. "Your former employers must be sad to see you go." He finally said. "What inspired you to change from Newspaper to Medicine?"
Here she was on firmer ground. The Purple from the book had been a shrewd businessman and eager to indulge anyone who had interests perpendicular to his own. "Newspapers are a dying medium. Everyone says that. But you have created a whole new field! One that might shape the world!" There, a complement, paired with innocent idealism and hope...surely she was presenting a tempting bait...
"So you are aware of what we do here." His tone was still level.
"Of course! Though why you think it necessary to - "
"You know, if you wanted an interview, you could have just asked."
Karin froze. "I'm sorry, is this not an interview for the position of your personal secretary? I -"
"You know what I'm talking about." His voice dropped, and he looked at her over steepled fingers. "Just as I know who you are."
Quickly she back-pedaled, feigning confusion. "I'm sorry Doctor but - "
"Karin Uzumaki, columnist of The Profit and half a dozen other blogs. You write under the tagline The Sensor and have gained quite a following in equal parts for your gossip and your reviews of current romance novels. You are considered quite the expert on relationship advice, according to many of my patients."
Carefully, Karin closed her mouth. But it wasn't too late - "Well, that's very kind of you, Mr. Yakushi, but I'm afraid you're mistaking me for - "
"Doctor Yakushi."
"I'm sorry?"
"Doctor Yakushi." He growled the demand, and there was little left of the smiling doctor from before. Unfortunately he hadn't been replaced with the supposed sex-god Mr. Murasaki. Karin was at once disappointed and relieved. "No matter what you think of me, I deserve that much courtesy. Unless you believe everything you read in that book? Now do stop lying, I can see it on your face and its embarrassing to both of us."
"But - "
"NOW, Miss. Uzumaki, or I will have Rozi throw you out of the office."
Something in the way he spoke suggested that he would follow up on his offer. Karin sighed, and acquiesced.
"Fine." The first thing that came off was the band in her hair, and the irregular mass of it sprang immediately back to its disheveled base state. "I'm Karin Uzumaki. Can we at least finish the interview before you kick me out?"
For a second, Karin saw the ghost of a smile on the edge of Yakushi's face. Then it was gone. "Now why should I do that? You've come here under false pretenses, and are stealing time that could be better used on my clients."
"I'm not the only one here under false-pretenses."
He stilled. Karin hadn't meant it as a threat, but the man had taken it as such. He sighed.
"So you are here about the book."
"Well - "
"I should have known. You're the first one who figured it out."
"Really?" Karin sat up straighter in her chair. "But its written out so plainly in the book. Anyone who knew Sasuke could guess..."
"Then its damn lucky the bastard is a recluse, isn't it?" The doctor snapped, then seemed to pull back. "I mean - "
"So you don't get along? Mr. Uchiha dedicated his book to you."
"As if that's a - " Again, Yakushi stopped, and wiped a hand down his face. "What do you want from me, Miss Uzumaki? An interview? An expose? Or are you just interested in more blackmail?"
Karin didn't let the confusion reach to her face. Blackmail? Over being the basis or a multi-million dollar franchise? It didn't make any sense. "I guess - I really just want an interview. Everyone wants to know if the book is true, and if Uchiha won't talk...then you're the only one who might."
"And you thought coming here, dressed as an innocent little flower would win you your interview?"
"Well...I thought..."
"You thought that if I was like the man in the book, that I would fall for it and you could expose my secrets to the world."
"Not your identity! Just - "
"Just what its really like living under a monster like Mr. Purple?" There was acid in his voice, and Karin was surprised to hear his voice quaver.
"Monster? What are you talking about? People love you. Why wouldn't you want to embrace it?"
---------------
Yes, the rumored Mr. Murasaki is intelligent. Damn intelligent. Perhaps more so than the man in the books, who could so easily be distracted by a whimper or articulate begging. Within a second of meeting me he had ascertained my true interest and was quick to offer a plan for how best to answer my questions...
----------------
Kabuto stared at her, eyes wide and a muscle in the side of his jaw twitching. Over the course of the last five minutes Karin had seen the man become progressively more tense, going from relaxed and friendly to professional, all the way to a body locked in a pose, his hands clenched around each other and his shoulders tense.
She was half expecting him to explode into one of those legendary rages Mr. Purple was prone to. Luckily, she had seven years of jujutsu under her belt, unlike the heroine, and quite a lot of experience pulling Sui out of bar-fights. And the door behind her wouldn't lock, so she could always flee if she wanted to, though only if she really wanted to burn a bridge and potentially expose her big break.
But instead, he seemed to bottle up all the tension that had come to the surface at her innocuous question and ... put it away somewhere. A few shallow breaths, and the image of the friendly doctor, while not completely back, was at least affixed well enough to pass a first glance.
"Why don't we go out and get something for lunch." He suggested, forcing a smile that probably looked easy if Karin had not just seen him primed to explode.
"Sure. If that's what you -"
"I think that would be best, yes." He said too quickly. "Since this is no longer a business meeting, it need no longer take place in the office, yes? Rozi - " He flipped a com-switch on his desk. "Miss. Uzumaki and I will be having lunch at the Bistro. Please hold my calls until I return." He listened for an answer, then nodded and removed his scrubs, revealing a collared shirt and neatly pressed khakis beneath.
"After you, Miss Uzumaki." He gestured to the door Karin had assumed was to his surgery, but found was in fact the hall leading to the main surgery, at which one end was a door leading out to a back door out of the clinic. Past that was an under-used elevator leading down to the ground floor which Kabuto quickly summoned via key-card.
Even here, the doors did not lock from the inside. Instead they opened easily beneath her hand and clicked shut behind her. And if she wished, there was a stairway as well as an elevator, also open for any on the inside to use.
Strange. It seemed an obvious enough safety precaution, but yet again it was utterly alien to the controlling Mr. Purple. Yet Kabuto checked and re-checked the doors while Karin navigated the corridor, touching each knob without apparently recognizing he was doing so.
In fact, he didn't speak to her again until they had been seated at the cafe, well away from the crowds at front, in a quiet little nook that was still fully visible from the rest of the bistro.
Was everything about this man public? Karin was beginning to wonder if he was an exhibitionist rather than a BDSM star.
But, with her cover blown and the air clear, she felt no guilt in pulling out her notebook and clicking her pen while they waited for the server.
"So. Where were we?"
Kabuto raised a brow at the question and gritted his teeth. "I believe we were still at the stage of deciding if I was going to tell you anything at all, or if you were going to blackmail me into doing so."
"Ew, no. Blackmail is lame. I'll never do that to you."
"May I get that in writing?" There was a sardonic twist to his lips, and he held up a hand when Karin obligingly began scribbling a promise into her notebook. "No, No, its not like I could take you to court even if you did break a contract. That would just pull everything out into the public and ruin my career just as surely as an expose would."
Karin tapped her pen against her lips. "I still don't see why it worries you so much. Isn't publicity a good thing? And aren't your clients all Tra - "
"If you say what I think you're about to say, I will not only stop talking to you, I will ban you from my office."
"Trans! I was going to say Trans! I do work for a Liberal paper, remember? Geesh, I don't live under a rock!" And there it was again, that flash-and-gone-again smile, as if she'd said something that charmed him. And then it was back to business.
"Never-the-less, many of my clients have good reason to be suspicious of anyone associated with the book."
"Why? It promotes alternative life-styles." And there was the opposite flash in his eyes, one of anger and something else that she couldn't quite identify.
"If 'alternative' you mean a farce of a healthy romance and a how-to for vile proto-criminals, then yes. But my clients have more sense than that, and many of them have far too much in common with that heroine. They would justifiably flee if they suspected my personal life was anything like that of Mr. Purple's."
"Huh. So you have read the book?"
"Can we get back to the bit where we discuss whether or not I have to tell you anything at all?"
Karin considered. At the moment, she didn't have any good reason for why Yakushi should help her at all. Initially, she was going to woo her way into an expose. Or just surreptitiously take notes while he was at work. Now that her cover was blown, that wasn't going to work. And apparently he didn't like the idea of being exposed in any way for fear of losing clients.
So what reason did she have that he should talk to her? There must be something.
Then it came to her.
"You said you didn't like the book. Don't you want to set the record straight?"
----------------
Perhaps worst of all, Mr. Murasaki is completely im-passionate about sex. He acts like he barely cares about it at all. Broach the subject, and he is quick to change the topic back to more vanilla fair unless you pin him down with a direct question. There is no hint of the sex-demon in his daily affairs. If anything, his life is structured around making privacy and seclusion almost impossible.
What he is passionate about is his work. Offer him a way to help people, and he will follow you through hell, especially if the patients are those who would have been turned away by more traditional doctors. And while this level of passion is similar to that of the business-minded Mr. Purple, it makes the real man seem weak in comparison. When nothing else can sway him, when his resolve is set and his will strong, he will submit in a heart-beat if it means protecting another.
--------------
Kabuto steepled his fingers again, leaning away from his drink. It was useful that the server had interrupted them when he did. It gave the doctor a moment to breath and relax and pull on the mask of professional dignity.
Karin had watched him do it out of the corner of her eye, chatting pleasantly with the server while watching her subject visibly calm himself.
"When you say 'set the record straight'...." he finally prompted when the waiter had left.
"I mean that I'm going to write down your thoughts, and give them to my readers, everything about your true opinion of the book."
"Even if it isn't...flattering?"
Karin chuckled. "I know you've read my positive reviews, but that doesn't mean I'm going to pass by a break-out story, especially one that has all the flavors of scandal. Not - " she quickly added. "That I'm ever going to reveal your identity. Mr. Uchiha seems to have set a good president - I'll only reveal enough about your work to make your actions and perspectives make sense to my readers. Beyond that I'll do my best to keep your identity secret."
He looked at her levelly. "Very well. But...why? You've found me, why not publish and get all the attention you could ever want?"
"Now who has a negative opinion based on biased sources?" She chided, sipping her smoothie. "No matter what tag-line says, I'd much rather a stable career than a few minutes of fame. My editor promised me three month's worth of blog-space if I could get consistent interviews with "Mr. Murasaki". That kind of press lasts way longer than one expose."
He raised a brow. "So the thought never crossed your mind?"
"Of course it did! I'm not stupid! If you had kicked me out, or if I had been able to dig up anything truly horrid about you...well, I am a reporter. I go where the story is. But whatever went on between you and Sasuke - that's got to be more interesting than what I expected. And my readers will be just as interested!"
Kabuto snorted. "Your readers think that a story about falling into the clutches of an abusive master-mind is the height of romance."
"So? Tell me why they shouldn't! Or tell me what the real story is. Here - I'll even draw up a contract for you - you'd prefer that, right? I, Karin Uzumaki, promise to - "
"No."
"What?" Karin lowered her pen. "But - "
"There's your first difference from the book. I don't...I don't like contracts. Especially ones that strip away an individual's right to say "no". That is...unacceptable to me." Again with the slight waver in his voice that set Karin's curiosity aflame. "I'd rather a verbal agreement, that either party can break at any time, without consequence of legal or social action."
He slips into jargon so easily. Karin thought to herself. Is it because he's nervous, and its easier to sound scientific than admit to his own fears?
But she said, "Isn't that more dangerous for you? I don't care, but that leaves you with no way of protecting yourself."
"I've never had a way of protecting myself, ever since that book was published. I'd rather not give you more ammunition to later say I pressured you into anything, if its all the same to you."
"Huh. Well, alright. Verbal agreement it is. I, Karin Uzumaki, will tell your story to the best of my ability, leaving out only information that might reveal your identity or hurt your clients. In return, you tell me about your own experiences in BDSM, and how they're the same or different than the book, and what lead you to this lifestyle. Does that seem fair?"
He tapped his worn fingers on the countertop for a moment, thinking. Then he nodded. "Yes, I suppose that is fair. May I see your articles before they are published?"
She winced. "Er - you might as well write them yourself if you want that much power. But tell you what - you can look over them while I'm writing them. I get final say, but you can veto any info that you think will endanger your clients. Or your friends. But I got to warn you - I'm not going to promise everything I say about you is going to be nice."
Kabuto relaxed slightly, and Karin couldn't understand why. It was as if every time she asserted her independence, every time she proved that she was smarter than the heroine of the book, Yakushi liked her more. Which didn't make any sense at all, unless...
"I don't need you to like me, Miss Uzumaki. In fact, I don't really expect you to. But if you are willing to give your honest opinion of me...well, its a better deal than I got from Sasuke. I would be grateful."
And that was how, after nearly completely bombing her first interview with the rumored Mr. Murasaki, Karin Uzumaki managed to gain a once-a-week lunch date with the source of her dreams.
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So, in general, Mr. Murasaki is a bit of a disappointment if you were expecting the cool, suave Mr. Purple. Certainly there are similarities between the two...but it is the differences that stand in sharp relief.
And, because I wish to be honest with you, dear readers, I am finding myself more than a bit won over by those differences. It is hard to picture Mr. Murasaki as a demanding dominant, but easy to imagine him working himself to the bone at his clinic, or embroiling himself in a hopeless cause. He certainly isn't the perfect man of the book, and he wears many of his flaws openly, for the world to see and judge. If there was a time when he was the confident, powerful Mr. Purple, that time is long in the past, and he has mellowed with age into someone far more approachable, if no less intelligent.
Yet nothing I saw indicated that Mr. Murasaki was not the man the book was based around. He was honest about his involvement and admitted to knowing Mr. Uchiha. He was quick to clarify our professional interactions and delineate responsibilities. And he was quick to point out how he was similar and dissimilar to Mr. Purple, recognizing his failings just as easily as I did.
But beneath it all I could not help but sense a burning resentment, targeted towards our beloved Author. What secret could have ripped these former friends apart? What devious thing could Mr. Murasaki have done to change the once-rosy relationship? And is he indeed only hiding the demon within, ready to unleash it upon your humble confidant?
All questions I promise to answer as soon as I can, my dears!
So, until next week,
The Secret Sensor, signing out!
--------------
Kabuto made sure that his handshake was firm and confident when he wished the reporter goodbye. The girl hadn't even considered that he might pay for half of the bill, which was a good sign, and her eyes had lit up at the taste of a story. He knew, instinctively, that she was going to go straight back to wherever she wrote her articles and get started typing up their conversation.
Damn.
He made it back to his office, confirmed with Roxi that he had another twenty minutes before his next consult, and shut the door behind him and checked that it would unlocked three times. No one would come in and disturb him until his client arrived. They had never barged in in the past, and there was no logical reason to fear that they would do so now, and even so, the door was locked from the inside.
Carefully, Yakushi Kabuto pulled three tissues out from the box, and balled them up just so. Carefully he kicked his shoes off and curled up in the plush office chair, sinking into the warm enveloping fabric and pretending, for just twenty minutes, that the soft leather could protect him. And then, with the tissues positioned so his eyes would remain clear and his face wouldn't give him away...
He let himself shake.
It was idiotic. He knew something like this would eventually happen, new it from the moment that damn book had come out. Knew that it would destroy everything he cared about, knew that he would lose the life he had tried so hard to build, knew that the few friends he still had would find out and leave him without looking back. All of that was anticipated. All of that was planned for. So only an idiot would have an emotional reaction to the inevitable finally happening.
Only an idiot cries. And idiots deserve what they get.
But he did it anyway, locked in the quiet office, away from any prying eyes, cloth balled in his mouth so no one would hear his whimpers, hands fisted in his hair with nails cut short so he wouldn't go back to scratching lines in his arms where others might see. He cried, and felt the whole damning darkness of his past rear up once again, ready to swallow him whole.