Akira

The operating room was quiet, except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Alex, a twenty-year-old red-haired doctor with a white streak at his temple, was concentrating on stitching up a laceration in a man's side. Beneath his mask, his orange eyes behind glasses were calm, his hands steady, even though he knew who he was operating on: Akira Morimoto, the head of the Enigma clan, the man of legend. A shootout between the clans had resulted in three corpses and this patient. They'd brought him in barely alive. Alex had done everything possible, then the impossible. Now all that was left was to wait. He'll wake up in a couple of hours, Alex told the nurse, removing his gloves. Transfer him to the VIP ward. Observe him every two hours. The nurse nodded, but added in a whisper, "Are you sure? He's a 'red status' police officer." "I have the Hippocratic Oath," Alex replied curtly. "And he paid for the treatment. That's all." When Akira finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a bespectacled face tilted down, a strand of red hair escaping from a cap, and a strange, cool scent. Not omega, not alpha… gamma? It smelled