Summary: When he'd ridded himself of Asami three years ago, he planned to avoid all encounters with the Crime Lord in the future. However, now working as a school counselor, Takaba is perplexed at the newest "patient" that the school has sent to his office. The boy looks exactly like Asami.
Summary #2: When he'd ridded himself of Asami three years ago, he planned to avoid all future encounters with the Yakuza. Now working as a school counselor, Takaba is shocked to see that his newest "patient" looks similar to Asami, and may well be the man's son.
AN: I really hope you do enjoy this one. As for now, i'll just keep it as a oneshot as I try to finish my other works, but do tell me what you think please. PLEASE!. I've had this on my mind for far too long, and I just needed to get it out there.
(sorry for any mistakes!)
Disclaimer: I do not own the Finder Series.
"I've told you two before," Takaba began, rather annoyed at the two youths standing before his desk, gruff expressions etched onto both of their faces, " If you continue to see each other, than nothing good will come out of it_nothing, yet you insist on skipping classes to see each other, hanging behind the bleachers, running to the bathroom, together, during passing periods!"
He stood up, and angrily grabbed a note from his desk, "Yet, despite your defiance, despite that fact that you "love each other", every single week, I get a report from an anonymous student, claiming that one of you is going to kill yourself because you can't stand the other!"
"They just don't understand us, Mr. Steiner," the boy called out, holding the girl's hand tighter, "yeah, we get into arguments, but isn't that what you're supposed to do in a relationship?"
The girl nodded, quickly, backing her estranged boy friend up.
Takaba sighed, "Roll up your sleeves, the both of you_Now!" he commanded, sitting on the front surface of his desk.
Though hesitant, the couple broke contact just for a moment, revealing to the school counselor their scars, love scars, they called them.
"So this is it, huh? You'll love each other until you kill each other," Takaba said sarcastically, though his voice quickly took a serious turn, "I care about you both, a lot, just as I do any other students that come into my office_With that being said, you are not allowed to see each. I don't know how many times i've said it, but i'm serious this time. I have the power to file a restraining order, to put either of you in an emergency room, to make it so you never see each other again...i don't want to do that, but if I have to, I will...stay away from each other!"
"You don't understand Mr. Steiner!" the girl cried our, her eyes on the brim of tears, "I know we...i know we're not the best, but we love each other! We do! Just give us-"
"Give you what, time?" he darkly chuckled, "and what of time? Time will be your worst enemy, time will give you enough time to hang yourself. I'm sorry, but not really_This is my job, and I enjoy doing it, I want to see you live another day. I'm calling your parents, both of yours. You're unstable now, and until we meet with your official therapist, I'm not okay with you two walking around school without a watchful eye," he went back around, and took a seat in the chair behind his desk, "they were called before I sent for you two, it will be short now. Just wait a minute."
"Mr. Steiner!" he flinched as the girl screamed his alias, "You just don't understand! I can't survive without him, I can't! Please...just let us.."
"And where is he, standing up for you?" Takaba motioned towards the boy, who looked the other way, "Perhaps he's gained his senses?"
"Sachi! Tell him it's not true, we love each other! Don't we! Don't we!?" she called, her knuckles white, as she clenched her fist in such a manor that her palms bled, "tell him what you told me, that we need each other!"
"I-I don't want to hurt you anymore..." he breathed silently, "if..if...being away from you means helping you, then i'll do it."
Takaba inwardly smiled at the sincerity of Sachi's admittance, though remained void of any emotion on the outside.
"Ms. Ping, take a seat, your parents will be here shortly," he commanded, monotonously.
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When he first began college, he planned to major in photography, and photography alone. It wasn't until Kou suggested psychology, that he took a slight interest in it. Unlike Kou, however, Takaba had never been incredibly passionate about psychology, and though he took the class, and eventually double majored, it never affected him as much as Photography did.
That was until he met Asami.
Psychology can be applied to all aspects of life, and when one knows how to pull the strings of the mind, evaluate a common psych, and make not only intelligent, but a well thought out observation of life, psychology does apply to life.
The mind of a psychologist is very similar, if not the same, to that of an artist.
A photographer is no different.
Both artist and psychologist poke and prod at life, dissecting it, and rearranging it.
They lift the dull layers that have been conditioned by society, and expose life for what it truly is.
Artist, like Takaba, exploit if for its beauty, parade it and celebrate it.
They celebrate the harsh truth.
Psychologist, like Takaba, do the exact opposite. They condemn it for it's evilness, they try to fix it for the cruelty it is, yet out of evil, light cannot come.
A doctor of the mind is a vary risky business, as an entire world is in your palm, a world you can destroy within mere seconds. Unlike the artist, no beauty will be made out of a lie_because life is not beautiful.
At least not in Takaba's observations.
Perhaps if he'd taken such delicate care with his, and Asami's mind three years ago, then he would not be in this current predicament.
Then again, they were never working towards the same goal.
They wanted different things.
Takaba wanted love, Asami wanted lust, despite the consequences.
One of them was going down, and at the time, it certainly was not going to be Asami. So he did what he could. When Asami began objectifying him more than the common household pen, Takaba took the opportunity to leave.
When Asami began to get too close to others, when Takaba could see more than a simple acquaintanceship forming between Asami and his certain business partners, Takaba took his chance and left.
The separation anxiety had been the toughest barrier to break, after that, he'd distanced himself from Asami and his men.
His alias came next, as he had planned his escape months before. His bank accounts were canceled, his address changed, his information altered (thanks to Sakasaki, who was actually more helpful than one thought), and his friends advised to keep quiet under any circumstances.
He created a "fake" name for himself, more importantly, the actual name on his birth certificate.
Steiner Frost. He hated the name, hated it, and embraced his adopted name more than anything.
Akihito Takaba meant so much to him, it was him, yet because of Asami, he lost it all.
He lost a lot because of Asami, and gained nothing.
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He ate alone in his office that day, after he'd dismissed previous studentsthat had been sent to him for counseling or discipline. Since his fiasco with Asami, he noticed that he hardly ate a bite of anything. It bothered him at first, to notice the steady decline in his weight, the dulling of his hair, and the darkening of his eyes. His initial tendency to neglect his meals was no doubt a feat he'd gained from Asami, though he liked to believe other wise, he wasn't exactly happy without the older man.
But for the longest time, he debated on whether it was happiness or attraction he felt towards Asami.
Don't doubt yourself for a minute, Aki, his voice protest, you loved him.
And that, he did, but he wanted the same back.
Perhaps he was too needy, perhaps he wanted too much.
Sighing, he removed the deli sandwich from it's ceramic wrap, and wondered suddenly why he hadn't gone for a more cultural meal. Not that sandwiches weren't common, now a days, they just were not the traditional Japanese food Takaba was used to.
Granted, he wasn't full Japanese, but the part of him that was yearned to taste something that he was used to, something that he grew up with...not...American food.
Not that he had anything against Americans or their foods, heck, he hardly ate, but when he did, he surely didn't eat Japanese.
Since Asami...he began a steady transform into someone completely different.
Someone "unlikeable", someone that wasn't Takaba.
It wasn't intentional though, It just happened.
His hair was no longer it's bright blond color, and had been dyed black to the roots. He remembered, the first night, he cried about it.
But, he learned to love his look about a week later. He wasn't one of Asami's playthings, he wasn't his property.
He was his own man.
When his appearance had been somewhat alter, and his eating habits became little to nothing, Takaba tried to sever his bond with his passion, photography.
However, that was impossible, and he berated himself for even thinking such a connection could be broken. Even with his hectic job as a counselor now, he still manged to sneak a few pictures here and there.
He hung them up around his small home, and at times, just stared at them. They weren't like the extravagant pictures he'd taken years ago, but, they held their own specific kind of beauty. Versatile in subject, he'd taken photos of landscapes, scenery, cities, nature, the sky, and just about anything else that a normal person saw on their normal day commute.
It was a way to stay in touch with is true self.
He brought the sandwich to his mouth, and took a small nibble off of the bread. One bite rendered him full, and he quickly wrapped the sandwich back in the plastic, and put it inside of his desk drawyer.
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The stench was the first thing that hit Takaba.
An odor so atrocious, so full of evil and malice had found its was into his office, around his desk and up his nose. Quickly, he used his tie to cover his face, but the damage had already been done.
The stench was trapped in his head, deep into his nostrils and slowly descending down his throat. His eyes watered at the internal assault, and he fought the urge to gag as the smell reached his stomach.
What surprised him more, however, was the cause of the stench.
The door had been closed the instant it had been open, as an attempt to keep the smell further out of the hallways.
Sadly, this meant to stinky problem was indeed human, and was indeed Takaba's problem.
Standing before him was a boy, a small boy. Takaba assumed that at a time, he looked nice, clean and intelligent, but with the cafeteria's compost and garbage thrown on you, even the worlds most beautiful model would have had a run for her money.
His hair was soaked in liquid, that no doubt secreted the smell. Atop of his head was a banana peal, and the rest of his clothing was adorned in trash.
Takaba so desperately wanted to take a picture.
Counting his luck, he removed the tie from around his nose, and whiffed in the horrid smell of the portable trash.
He might as well have gotten used to it, as the conversation with the child would be a long and painful one.
Slowly, he walked around the desk, completely aware of the figure that followed him with it's large golden eye, the other was darker, covered by murky hair.
"Is there a reason," he began, walking closer and closer, "as to why you smell like the trash."
it was then that Takaba realized that those ketchup streaks on the boys face weren't actually ketchup stains, they were tears. Tears darkened by the liquid dripping from his hair.
"They saw me drawing..." he cheeped, avoiding Takaba's gaze, "And took my pictures from me...i said i'd tell my parents, and they got mad. Everyone in lunch threw food at me at my table, they made fun of how I look, and then they dumped me in the hallway trashcan."
He undid his tie, and pulled the boy close to him. He was surprised by the child's sudden stiffness.
"IT's okay, that's going to irritate your skin," Takaba soothed him, "Let's get you cleaned up before we talk, which teacher sent you in here?"
Reluctantly, he allowed Takaba to brush his face wit his tie, "It wasn't a t-teacher. T-they told me you help people feel g-good...i walked here b-by myself."
"By yourself...not one teacher or friend lended you a hand?" Takaba asked.
"I-i don't h-have friends," he whispered as another dark tear streamed down his cheek, "Everybody thinks I'm weird"
He's stuttering...that's not a good sign. Doesn't look like he comes from an encourage household, Takaba took a mental note, as he cleared some of the mess off, "This won't all be cleaned with my tie, we'll have to go to the locker room_"
"Please Mr. Steiner," he begged, even folding his small hands, "Don't make me go through the hallways! They'll make fun of me!"
He sighed, "Not when I'm with you, I'll make sure they don't hurt you."
"And what about when you leave, then what? They'll just bully me all over again," he muttered, defeated, "I told you, I d-don't have f-friends! N-no one w-will stand up for me!"
Takaba sighed and began to remove his coat, "If you're so scared, than wear this until we get to the locker rooms...now normally I wouldn't do this, but we don't have a choice, and you're starting to stink."
The boy made a sobbing noise as he wrapped the suit jacket around his small figure, and buttoned it up all the way until you could no longer see his face. Takaba sighed as he ushered him out of the room, and into a hallway full of bustling students.
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Bullying happened all the time, though it meant little to those who had never been bullied. They'd seen the posters, seen the ads to stop bullying, even helped with the campaign, but many didn't know the full effects of it until they got bullied themselves.
To many, supporting the fight against bullying was simply another good deed, another badge to put on your vest, or a note to write on your resume.
But seeing the filth and dirt melt away from his skin and his clothing, and fall down the drain, had touched Takaba in a way he didn't think possible.
His heart ached for the child before him, and like any overprotective being, he wanted to murder the idiots who'd made him feel this way. Unfortunately, Takaba had gathered that his parents felt the exact opposite, and cared less about the issues their son was facing at school.
"See, there, you smell better," Takaba chimed in, attempting to earn a smile from the boy, but he returned the compliment with a dark gaze.
"Until tomorrow," he breathed rather sadly, "tomorrow, everything will be the same."
Takaba chanced his luck, "Do you tell your parents about this, about how you feel?"
The boy shrugged, and continued to scrub the filth out of his hair. Though a shower curtain obscured most of the boy's body, Takaba could still see his small feet, and the dirty water draining down the floor of the shower.
"My parents don't care," he stated honestly, "it's okay though, I tell my little brother everything."
Takaba smiled, "You've got siblings?"
"Yeah, just one, and he's a baby...though at times, I think he understands me," he said happily, "He's why I keep living."
Why I keep living? Why the hell would a kid need to say that, Takaba thought frantically, I need to get in touch with his parents.
He was surprised by the boy's overall willingness to speak to him, to provide him with such usable information. But he had stated before that he needed help, that he wanted it.
This boy wasn't being open, he was being desperate.
"So, why do you think they bully you?" Takaba asked, as he fumbled with a fresh uniform and undergarments he'd gotten from the nurses office on their way to the locker room, "...did you do something?"
"Yeah," the shower water stopped, "I was born."
Takaba changed the subject, "I'm glad you're not stuttering anymore."
"I stutter when I'm nervous," he admitted, "or...stressed."
"Big words, when do you stutter then?" Takaba pressed on, "at home, at school_"
"Yeah, but when I'm with my brother...I'm really good at speaking, or with the nurse, or with you now. I trust you," he stated bluntly, "a lot."
"And you should," Takaba replied gleefully, "I can help you, but we should really talk to your parents."
There was a small silence that ensued at the comment, and it wasn't until a minute later, did the boy speak again.
"Pass me a towel please," he instructed, seemingly ignoring Takaba's comment, "I-i'm starting to get a draft."
Again with the stuttering,Takaba thought to himself, as he reached into one of the cabinets behind him on the wall, and pulled out a towel.
Before he moved into his home, he'd usually be forced to spend the night at the school if he wasn't able to pay his apartment rent. Needless to say, he was familiar with the school and its workings.
Since then, of course, his payroll had been increased sliglty, and he could now live in an actual home.
Takaba made to open the shower curtain, but the boy's quick hand stopped him.
"D-don't open it!" he shouted, "I can d-dry m-myself off!"
Takaba gasped at the sudden change in the boy's tone, and drew his irritated hand away.
The normal silence resumed between them, as the boy dried himself off behind the curtain, Takaba sat on the ground, fumbling with the small uniform.
He figured that he should not have been as surprised by the boy's outburst, as depending on the boy's age, he would have gathered enough knowledge to know that you were supposed to keep your clothes on at all times.
However, younger kids weren't as reluctant to remove their clothes, not until they reached a certain age. He wasn't entirely sure how old this kid was.
The forbidden word had been hovering in the back of Akihito's mind. Perhaps abuse was a prime suspect, perhaps the kid was trying to hide bruises?
But bullying came with bruises as well.
" ...my c-clothes p-please," he asked silently.
"Oh, here," his request had pulled Takaba out of his train of though. He made to pass the clothing to the child, but stopped at his striking features.
The bright eyes had been enough to startle Takaba before, but with his dark hair in face, in contrast with his skin, the boy looked very similar to Asami.
Takaba fought to control his emotions, and quickly closed his eyes to dispel the image.
"M-mr. St-steiner, are you okay," the boy wrapped the towel tighter around his body, and took a slow step towards Takaba, "w-why are you shaking?"
Takaba's eyes shot open, quickly taking notice of an abnormal trait, "Your...your eyes," he began, "They're two different colors."
The boy quickly brought a hand up to the blue one, and closed the other, "I-it's w-weird! M-my dad b-bought m-me contacts, b-but the trash i-irritated them."
"Hey, hey, now," Takaba grabbed his small wrist and pried away his small hand, "be proud of who you are, okay. You don't have a lot of self-confidence, why is that?"
Why the hell did his dad even entertain the idea of contacts? Takaba was angry with the parents, and made a mental note to schedule a meeting with the two, and perhaps award them the "Worse Parent of the Year" award.
The boy shrugged and looked at his feet, a small blush crept to his face, "Y-you're the second person whose told me that," he admitted sheepishly, "but the first person went away."
"Who was the first person?" Takaba pressed on, scooting closer to the boy, "Was it your mom, or your dad?"
He shook his head, "I-i think he was my dad's friend...he had glasses, but I don't see him anymore. He liked me."
Takaba smiled, "Where'd he go?"
"He left one day I think," the boy was getting calmer, "to take my dad somewhere, a meeting I think. After that, my dad got hurt, and I never saw the guy again...he was really nice to me. He was friend."
So there went the boy's confidence, hope the dad didn't fire the guy for doing what he couldn't.
"Oh...here's your clothes, it's got everything you need," Takaba turned around after he handed the boy the uniform, "we can talk more after you put them on."
The young boy took his time as he dressed himself neatly, quietly muttering, "I'm done," when he'd finished his task.
Takaba turned around, and bit back a laugh, "They're a little too big_But it's not that much of a difference. Not at all, not at all!"
He caught himself before he warranted any unnecessary distress from the small child.
"Then, do you wanna go back to my office," Takaba inclined, "we can talk more."
The child nodded eagerly, but recoiled suddenly, "I'm always wearing my contacts...but they'll see my eyes now," he sighed, "can I borrow your jacket again?"
"It smells like trash now," Takaba looked towards the stinky garment, "just...stand by me, i'm the counselor, no one will laugh at you."
And true to his word, no one did.
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"Geez," Takaba whistled, "you've probably missed a lot of classes, i'm surprised your teacher hasn't called for you."
The boy returned the compliment with his signature shrug, as he sat on his chair in front of Takaba's desk, and sketched furiously on a sheet of paper.
"So, about that meeting with your parents," Takaba reintroduced the pressing subject into the conversation, "I'll need to know their information, as well as yours...like a name."
"They already know," the boy was quick to answer, "there's nothing they can do about it, really."
"Why?"
"They're never at home...hardly," he said rather sadly, "my brother's always at the daycare until my mom picks him up..."
Takaba scribbled this information on his notepad, occasionally tossing "mhmms" and head nods at the boy's personal information.
"-and before my brother was born, my mom was always drinking...apparently she was a free spirit. I hope he comes out alright, i'm really worried that It might have done something to his head. My dad cares about us, I think...but he doesn't do a good job at showing it. He's always so sad, I think. I can tell that he used to be happier than he is now. I love him more than I do my mother, she's hardly around, and even though he hardly speaks to me, I think he makes an effort to love me...can I tell you a secret?"
Takaba's eyes widened at the sudden hushed tone, but he nodded nevertheless, "Yeah, you can tell me."
The boy motioned for Takaba to come near him, and quickly, the photographer did.
"I think my dad loved someone else before he liked my mom," he whispered into Takaba's ears, "And even if he left my mom, as long as he visited us sometime and didn't forget about us, I'd be happy to see him happy."
"What a selfless thing to say for a kid your age," Takaba complimented, amazed by his wisdom, "and your picture, it's amazing."
The boy blushed at the compliment, and pulled the picture of a park closer to him, "It was the park my dad's friend took me to one time for my birthday. He bought me ice cream, and pushed me on the swing until I got tired!"
The picture was extravagant for one so young. The detail was amazing, all the way down to the cross hatched sky, to the silhouetted figures in the center.
"I really really miss him," his voice was pleading, filled with agony and pain, " he was my first friend...and he went away...if you become my friend, you won't go away, will you?"
Takaba shook his head furiously, no way was he willing to toss this kid away, "Of course not, but you'll have to come and visit me more often...and really, I want to get in touch with your parents. Do you draw much at home?"
He shook his head, "My dad...he doesn't like arty things. My friend, he bought it for me, a camera...and dad got real mad...he destroyed it, so I have to sneak things like this...I just draw from memory though."
Takaba chuckled, "You're like a living camera, by the way, I used to take pictures myself, would you like to look at them?"
The boy brightened, "Yeah!"
It took Takaba no time to get his camera from his desk, and activate the small slide-show setting. "You won't be too interested in the people though, you probably don't know any of them."
The boy nodded as he looked through the camera, smiling at the occasional scenery that popped on the screen.
"Could I reference them...oh, never mind," he stated sadly.
"What's up, you can use them if you'd like," he replied honestly, "I hardly take pictures anymore."
The boy sighed, "It's just...i don't have anywhere to draw anymore, the students trashed my sketch pad, and my dad's not gonna buy me a new one."
"Then you can draw in here, i'll buy you a new one" Takaba smiled, "I don't mind, I actually enjoy your company. And besides, I can help you a lot more."
The boy's face lit up, "Really! You'd let me do that?"
"I don't see why not, just get your work done, and during recess or lunch, or any free time you've got, stop in here, if i've got a meeting, you can wait in the back," he continued, "you've got a talent, don't keep it caged up."
The boy nodded, and resumed his drawing, "Thanks for believing in me," he muttered silently, yet loud enough for Takaba to hear, "he told me to call him "Glasses-guy," because it made me laugh all the time...he believed in me too."
Takaba smiled at the distant name, "Seem like a nice guy."
The boy nodded as his arm worked skillfully around the paper, "I can talk to you whenever, right?"
"Whenever," Takabe restated, "don't be afraid."
"When i'm with you," he began, "i'm not..scared...and I just met you too, you're really nice, and really trustworthy...thanks for understanding."
"And thank you for opening up," Takaba walked to his desk, and began to write his own phone number down, "I'll give you my number before you leave, but you can stay here until your parents pick you up_Or whoever picks you up, by the way, can you give me a last name so I can look up your information."
The boy paused suddenly, and his face lit up with a bright red "Please don't tell them! They'll just argue about it, I hate when they argue, because they do it so much! I don't want to be the reason why they're both unhappy!"
"They need to know," Takaba said soothingly, "then we can work together to help you."
"My parents won't work together," he said defeated, "they don't love each other."
Takaba sighed, "Fine...fine, I won't contact them now, but if things get worse, I will. For now, the two of us will deal with it, okay?"
Somewhat more happy, the boy nodded, "O-okay...my last name, right?"
Takaba nodded, "Though a first name would be pretty nice too, so I could call you something other than "kid"."
"My first name is funny...my mom got it from America when her family went there on vacation a long time ago, so don't laugh!," he blushed, "Casper...Casper Asami."
At this, Takaba's heart skipped a beat, and the small child had hopped off of his chair, and made his way to Takaba's desk, holding the picture towards the counselor.
"Here's my picture, see," he pointed to the center, where another small figure stood, "I added you!"
Reluctantly, Takaba took the picture, and smiled at the sincerity.
"C-Casper...we'll you certainly are friendly," he remarked, "I love the picture, by the way."
"Thanks...c-could y-you walk me outside?" the boy looked away as he asked, expecting an immediate rejection.
"To your parents car?" Takaba chanced, afraid of what the answer was going to be.
There are millions of "Asami's" in Japan, he is not in anyway, shape or form related to your Asami! He berated himself for the thought. But the golden eye, the dark locks...he looked too familiar to just be a coincidence...
"No, they hardly pick me up, it's just one of my dad's workers," he explained, "I don't really talk to them much."
Takaba nodded as relief flooded over his body.
"Yeah, i'll walk you there...but here's my number," he handed the boy the slip of paper, "call me whenever you feel like you need to talk."
"Yeah_whose Takaba?" The boy looked towards him with confused eyes, as he held up the paper.
"Oh! It's my dead dog," Takaba lied and quickly took the note away, and scribbled out the name, "Sorry 'bout that."
"It's okay," he replied, "As long as it's you're number."
Takaba smiled, "It is...don't hesitate to call."
"I won't," Casper replied, "J-just d-don't go away, p-please."
"As long as you don't stop coming," Takaba retorted back, "We'll lean on each other, okay?"
The boy happily nodded as Takaba held the door open for him, "Does that make us friends?"
"Yeah...i suppose so_Does this mean you'll keep drawing?"
"If you keep helping me," Casper said, "And if you can't help, at least you'll listen."
Takaba smiled, and ruffled Casper's dark locks, "I'll help, trust me, I'll help."
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"I never see you anymore, come out the door, it's like you've gone awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy!" I was thinking of Frozen when I wrote this, thinking too much! A lot of you are probably thinking, "If a kid was bullied, why is he so open?" Like explained, he wanted help, and he felt he could relate to Takaba. I got the name Casper from Casper the Friendly Ghost. That movie used to scare the shit out of me when I was little. If you couldn't tell, he get's his artistic side from his mother, and while she's a drunk, her genes have influenced him greatly, and her culture. Which is why she named him Casper. Anyway, as for now, this is just a one-shot! So I hope you all enjoyed, have a nice weekend, and God bless!