Hello! :3
So…This story, it's not a fluff fic or anything as it's quite dark :S but I like to hope it will redeem itself later on. Hope you like it!
It's about sex-trade and human trafficking, which is actually a frighteningly huge industry these days so I hope it doesn't offend or upset anyone. A poem was one of my stimuli as well as something that someone had said to me when I was telling them about my plans to go abroad soon.
The 'joke' the guy said was about being kidnapped and sold into the sex industry. Needless to say I didn't find it funny in the least.
Anyway, I really hope you enjoy it *hides under bed* Comments are welcome of course! :) And for the record I still have no idea if it's Sakazaki or Sakagaki. Sorry for any mistakes!
Warnings: Swearing, explicit yaoi, mild BDSM.
}xXx{
Nightfall,
that saw the morning-glories float Tendril and string against the crumbling wall, Nurses him now,
his skeleton for grief,
his locks for comfort curled among the leaf….
…Thickened away from speech by fear, I move Around the body. Over his forepaws, steep declivities darken down the moonlight now, and the long throat that bayed a year ago declines from summer.
Flies would love to leap Between his eyes and hum away the space Between the ears, the hollow where a hare Could hide; another jealous dog would tumble The bones apart, angry, the shining crumble Of a great body gleaming in the air; Quivering pigeons foul his broken face….
Excerpt from: On the skeleton of a hound. James Wright
}xXx{
He stares at the walls, they glisten. Condensation from the industrial grade boiler keeping the room ever damp, thick with mould and caked in many years worth of grime and mildew. Harmful spores pour into his lungs by the millions with each new breath, maintaining the boys state of constant sickness and keeping him weak, lethargic.
A cardboard box under the small, rusty metal bedstead houses the boy's most precious belongings, his treasure, the few things most important to him which he checks everyday, every night to make sure it's all still there lest the cleaning lady decide to take them when she comes in to collect her mop and bucket.
For if that one small, ripped, stained cardboard box were to be taken away, then he'd really have nothing. Not even himself left.
He doesn't know how long he's been here, like this - like it actually matters. All he knows is that sooner or later, someone will bang on that door as usual and he'll have to go, go to do whatever it is they will ask of him. As usual.
Thinking is futile, he's learned. So is fighting. Akihito had learned long ago that it's better to behave, it's better to go along with whatever his master wants, whatever he demands - for he had saved him. Saved Akihito from a fate much worse than this and he. Well. Doesn't know anything else now. He hasn't for a long time.
The boy doesn't remember his life before, if there even was one and he has driven himself crazy many, so many times trying to find out just that by wracking his own memory relentlessly. But all it does is drag up terrible things, paralysingly terrifying things that make him scream and lash out and make him want to die. It's far too painful to remember how he got here. So it's better to be numb.
His one saving grace, the boy thinks with pride as he sits there on his too small bed, is his treasure. His secret red view-master. His. He looks at it everyday, looks through the lens to see vibrantly coloured, amazing sights and dreams about those places every night in between the nightmares and he swears that one day. One day he'll go to them and see them properly...
Sakazaki had told him that one of the boy's most loved and favourite pictures within his view-master, is of a place called Tokyo tower and that he'll take Aki there if he's good.
But, he hasn't taken the boy there yet because Aki is bad. He must be, because Sakazaki always tells him so...
*BANG*
And there it is, the noise that signals the start of Akihito's day so he gets up from where he was sat patiently waiting on the bed, wearing the only clothes he owns. A faded T-shirt and ripped jeans that hang far too loosely on him now, for some reason. He opens the door to the familiar, sneering face that greets him, Sakazaki. The man wearing one of his usual garishly coloured suits and leaning casually against the door frame, purring appreciatively at the sight of his pet.
A large hand finds it's way to the boy's jaw when he approaches his master and it directs his face up, squeezing on the boys adams apple uncomfortably as the man swoops in to claim the soft pink lips below. Bestowing the deepest of kisses upon Akihito and only letting him go when he whimpers, growing faint with lack of air.
"Good morning, kitten."
}xXx{
"…Yeah, spotted him on the roadside. I'm just y'know, helping him get back on his feet."
The shop assistant coos and simpers at Sakazaki's kind words, the man recalling how he had 'found' Akihito and taken him in, all those months ago. He does this now and again, takes the boy to designer clothes shops and department stores and uses him to lure young and attractive women to his bar with promises of support, opportunities. Similar to that of the mute young man currently in his 'care.'
Though, if they do fall for the rouse and travel to the club on those nights, what they get instead is pressure. Pressure to stay and pressure to give up the goods, all for the sake of the empty promises they had been so eager to believe.
This boy was a god-send, as far as Sakazaki is concerned. He had been an impulse buy a couple of years ago and he had heard nothing of him (the boy being placed in one of Sakazaki's many brothel's dotted around Japan.) Until six months ago when a manager had called, suggesting the kid had finally lost it having been like a ghost of his former feisty self for months. As a result both his takings and his popularity with clients were declining rapidly and so it was said that he should be sold to a BDSM club. Time for new merchandise and all that.
Sakazaki had been skeptical, remembering what a handful the boy was when he had first acquired him. Not a week went by where he didn't hear of how Aki had brawled with staff or with one client or another, having to be beaten and subdued with aphrodisiac to be controlled in order for the client(s) to have any fun with him. Even sometimes to the point of delirium.
Heh, he thinks. Maybe we overdid it.
The cunning business man had wracked his brains, surging through the hundreds of possible opportunities and uses for such a boy and landed on two. Firstly (and this happening to be the one he is currently putting skilfully into action at the moment) is that he on a small scale would use him to pick up girls, more classy girls compared to those he had been used to dealing with. Fresh faced girls with their hopes, dreams and lives ahead of them, not the usual desperate whores looking for the next blow of coke, the next needle.
The larger scale plan however, the one that has Sakazaki salivating is to use Akihito as a Guinea pig. One that will serve as a perfect example of a perfect sub, one that will be developed by none other than Sakazaki. If he could create a formula, a formula that worked even one out of two cases then that would mean it's a success and that there's a business in it. And business is Sakazaki's speciality.
He figured the kid is broken anyway so it wouldn't matter if the experiment fails, but if it succeeds. It means he can expand, build a new business with a fleet of docile, willing and thoroughly trained submissives for the line of BDSM clubs he owns. The private and exclusive ones. The ones where clients have utter control and free reign with their pets and where anything, goes. He smiles at the thought. There'll be an endless line of replacements for the broken whores as more alone, friendless men and women join the ranks.
Shit. He can taste the profits already.
So. With this in mind, the man set about performing his experiment. The one that has resulted in Akihito's unwavering loyalty to Sakazaki now as for all Akihito knows. Sakazaki had saved Aki, saved him from his very own living hell. Sure his mind is now in a constant and everlasting purgatory, numb from despair and grief and wishing for death so many times, but it's still far better then it was at that time. And he has Sakazaki to thank for that.
Even though Sakazaki had saved the boy from an ordeal completely of his own making.
Akihito had been beaten, tied up for days in a dingy hotel room after a group of men had taken him from the club. He was tired, so tired and forced to suffer through minute after minute and hour after hour of the same. Buzzing, punctuated occasionally by his own screams and mens laughter. They had watched him cry out in horror, soil himself and beg for death. But would only cackle and tease him in response, immune to the pitiful sight before them.
They had watched as he had to endure three endless days of torture where his only reprise was when they gave him a sip of water or when the dildo batteries would need changing. He would cry, come and pass out, only to be slapped awake a few minutes later in order to do it all over again. Body too weak from lack of food and rest to try anything else.
After a time, a long time. The humiliation, despair, hurt and terror welled up inside him to such a point where it was truly unbearable, to a point where something snapped within him and his mind went utterly numb, almost catatonic. The only defence it had in the face of such cruelty.
But when he had woken up after that, after the last time, there he was. A gentle hand on his forehead, comforting words of "It's okay...You're okay now…" before he saw the mans face - and it had been Sakazaki. There with him in a clean, light room and Aki all tucked up into a soft, comfortable bed. He had saved him.
"…Wow Sakazaki-san, you're so charitable…"
The pretty sales assistant giggles some more, laying a playful hand on the mans arm. He smiles, ever the business man and definitely looking to seal the deal with this one as she looks utterly pure and delicious.
Akihito ignores this, normally only paying attention to anything his master addresses him directly with because his master hates it when Aki 'eavesdrops.' The boy busies himself with the sportswear, liking the bright and different colours and wondering just what the different items of clothing could possibly be used for. He only owns one pair of pants and a T-shirt and gets along just fine, so why would somebody need all these?
"…!"
There's a gasp from somewhere behind him and he ignores it, knowing that if it were his master then the man would address him properly so he carries on absentmindedly browsing, ignoring again the increasingly alarmed calls and shouts of someones name.
"…N-no. No way..."
"-Aki? Aki!"
"A-Akihito? Akihito It's you, oh my g-! - It's, it's really you?!"
A dark haired boy who looks around Akihito's age rushes to him, the expression on his face displaying nothing short of pure surprise and relief. The boy calls to Aki again, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he tentatively walks forward, arms out, almost scared but wanting so much to embrace his friend.
The one he's been searching three long years for.
"Please, it's. Is it really you Aki?…W-why?...Why didn't you reply our calls or emails?! We've - oh god we've been so worried about you - the police haven't been able to find you, your parents think you're dead. Where? Where the fuck have you been?!"
Akihito freezes as the stranger happens upon him so suddenly, talking so fast it's all a blur, too much for the boy to handle. His mind hums loudly in his ears and his vision swims before his eyes as images of grabbing hands, leering faces and dark shadows steal the air from his lungs to the point where he can no longer breathe.
He starts to panic like a frantic, cornered wild animal, clawing at the air in an attempt to push away the figure and breathing so shallowly, closing his eyes tightly as he backs away, grunting. Pulling at his hair now and begging silently to be left alone. For the unbearable, overwhelming memory of a million phantom hands, hot mouths and cackling shadows to please leave him be. He can't take anymore.
Even though it's only Koh. His best friend.
"What's the problem here? Did something spook my little house cat?"
The goatee'd man saunters over, sliding an arm around the pale, distressed boys shoulders so Akihito can clutch his masters shirt and bury his head in the warmth, calming down slowly and thinking that it's okay, I'm okay now. He tells himself. He's safe because Sakazaki's here.
In these few bizarre moments, Koh can't help but look on helplessly and gape rudely in shock at the sight before him. His once confident, vibrant and out-going friend is now stood before him after three years of being missing - shaking like a leaf, as thin as a rake and clinging to some hairy guy for dear life. He asks himself whether this is really Akihito after all.
Well, if he hadn't been looking at Akihito's photo most days, worried sick over his AWOL friend then yeah, maybe he'd doubt himself. But there's no way, no way this isn't Akihito.
"What the?! You - why is he like this?!"
Sakazaki's eyes darken as he regards the stranger and frowns in mock thoughtfulness. He takes the trembling boys chin in his hand and asks Akihito sternly "do you know this person, kitten?"
Aki shakes his head, eyes wide as all he wants to do is go back home. To the club, where he'll be safe.
"Well there you have it kid, he doesn't know you. Please don't bother him again."
They walk away from the sports concession then, leaving a very pissed off and downright flabbergasted Koh behind to hastily fish out his phone to call Takato, his and Akihito's friend. To talk about what the hell just happened.
}xXx{
"Cigar, Brandy, Scotch? Anything you want gents, we gott'em all!"
Sakazaki laughs raucously, making his way back over to his desk with a fully accessorised, tall glass of blue lagoon cocktail for himself as he waits on his latest servant girl to fix the drinks and provide cuban cigars for his guests. The man sits down, feet up on his desk which he withdraws almost immediately when he inadvertently catches the eye of none other than Asami Ryuichi.
The mans an enigma, appearing suddenly a couple of moths ago on the business scene reportedly with a vast empire of human trafficking routes through not only Asia but Europe and the U.S too. In other words. A fucking gold-mine.
Sakazaki needs this man, needs a heavy hitter in the human trafficking industry to ship his goods. Whores just like the boy he's about to showcase to these cretins.
"You see gents…" He says, now lacing his fingers together and peering at the shrewd business rivals come allies before him. "…We've created the perfect sub. The unique process we've developed just recently is: yes, an application of stockholm syndrome, simple but. You are about to see how effective it is..."
He smiles, relishing in the eager greed appearing over his prospective partners faces. Well, two of them anyway.
"The sub spends approximately 1-3 years in service at one of our clubs here in Japan. Of course each individual experience of the sub varies and out of the thirteen candidates we have tested so far, six of those responded positively to the tactic. For example. Takaba Akihito has developed many anxiety related disorders and he seems to have forgotten how to speak. Only ever saying a few words…."
He pauses for dramatic affect, drawing out the tension before continuing.
"You see, the object of the game is manipulation of the mind. A simple case of controlled and prolonged pressure or torture and then to offer a way out. A figure the subject can identify as their saviour. The little sluts are so grateful they have no choice but to do whatever we ask. So, ergo. Perfect sub! I believe, gentlemen, that there really is a market for this and Asami-san in particular, my proposal for you is that we make this a joint venture – your routes into the U.S and Europe for a significant cut."
Asami just nods once, face displaying all his infuriating nonchalance and self assurance as he absentmindedly exhales think, tobacco rich smoke.
"You need more proof?"
*Buzz*
"Send Takaba in."
A few moments go by, Sakazaki practically bouncing in his chair as he radiates insufferable levels of self satisfaction before there's an oh so soft knock at the door and a young man steps into the room. Eyes to the floor and dressed especially for the occasion in black leather straps and chains.
"Aki. Come."
Sakazaki motions the boy over to sit on his lap, facing his esteemed guests so he can start the show after having handed Akihito a lollypop laced with cocaine. The boy licks it appreciatively, though also unintentionally seductively and god, his master thinks, a few months ago this just wouldn't have been possible. Akihito sat here like this, but now. Now the boy is going to single handedly increase Sakazaki's business opportunities ten-fold. Lets just hope Asami's as pleased with the little slut as much as he is.
After a few minutes Sakazaki grows impatient. Ripping the sugary, raspberry flavoured treat from Akihito's hand and making the boy "oh." softly. Feeling his loss as it's the first thing he's eaten for days. The boy recovers though and turns around sharply, sliding off of Sakazaki's lap to the floor where he proceeds to unzip the mans trousers. Being stopped with urgent hands to the face, pushing him away.
"No. Stop….Fufu...I doubt these guys want to see you sucking me off, although it is quite something…"
The goatee'd club owner reaches for his drink as he laughs heartily then, looking up to share in the joke with the three investors sat before him though almost choking on his blue lagoon when he sees Asami sigh, having only spared a glance at the beautifully strapped up boy as he worked his tongue around the deep pink lolly pop.
Months of work for a fucking glance? You 'gotta be fucking joking.
The man takes a breath. Knowing deep down that of course he'll have to do more to impress a man with a reputation such as Asami's. (More than just flaunt some quality ass before him that's for sure, the guy must have it on tap 24/7 after all.)
Yes. A man of his calibre - needs a proper show.
"OK Aki, go over there. Let these gentlemen spank you as much as they like alright? You've been a bad boy…"
"...Ba...bad…boy?…Bad?" Akihito repeats, mind a little hazy from the coke laced lolly but wondering just what he could have done today to make his master angry at him.
Eventually Sakazaki tuts, once again loosing his patience as he motions Akihito to move. Sending him over to a clear space by the large window to get onto all fours, waiting patiently like he's told for a beating he doesn't even deserve.
Asami watches the kid out of the corner of his eye and the golden eyed, raven haired man doesn't like this ridiculous charade one bit. Theres something to be said for the the breaking down of ones opponent fairly, with a certain kind of thugs honour in place so that both parties realise just who is the victor – and just whom has been defeated.
But this underhand cheating and manipulation of innocents, a boy barely old enough to drink let alone be purposefully destroyed and abused to such an extent and used in such a way. Especially when the kid sees this bastard Sakazaki as some kind of saviour.
His thoughts are interrupted by a low, rumbling purr from the bald headed pervert sat next to him.
"Well guys, have a taste. Oh he won't try anything, you don't have to worry there…"
Matsuhisa, the head of a relatively new family of yakuza is the first to get up. His love for BDSM thoroughly roused upon seeing this delicious piece of ass already wrapped up nice and tight in leather restraints for him. The man removes his belt, licking his lips as the tattooed skin-head comes upon the boy to strike the first harsh, unforgiving blow to Akihito's pale ass, making it turn a bright crimson and burn painfully as millions blood vessels enflame beneath the surface of his fair, fleshy mounds.
After every few hits the man pauses, listening with pleasure to the mewls that the boy whimpers out through pained, shallow breaths. Powerless to do anything in the face of such relentless brutality. Sakazaki smiles, knowing he can push it much, much further and insists Mastuhisa hit the boy harder now. After he has made one more simple request that is.
"Aki! Don't you make a noise now. I don't want to hear you anymore."
The yakuza laughs, now letting loose and going to town on whipping Akihito with the thick leather belt. It tears the skin, blood oozing out like tears from the angry wounds as Akihito screws his eyes shut, biting deeply into his bottom lip in a desperate attempt to prevent himself making a noise. Otherwise his master might get mad at him again.
Matsuhisa pauses in whipping the boy once more to reach a hand under Akihito to try and rouse the boy's flaccid member to life, thought he's in far too much agony to sustain the condition for long.
Sakazaki takes a mental note to increase Akihito's dose of coke next time.
The boy's body shakes uncontrollably both from the hand jerking roughly at his member and with the constant surge of adrenaline and severe pain. The combined assault has his eyes watering and rolling towards the back of his head.
His body falling into a state of shock.
Asami watches on and is beside himself with disgust, watching this little bitch of a brat take his punishment with utter acceptance. Where's the fight, where's his pride? Has Sakazaki actually managed in the breaking down of a persons psyche to such an extent that all traces of life are torn away completely and all that remains after is a worthless, empty shell?
Well, it would seem so.
However.
He watches the boy now though, watching a little more closely at how each new cut is carved, etched into the raw flesh again and again. So much so that the noises produced now from the whipping become wet sounding. muffled. Blood dulls the harsh blows as it flows thick and fast from the boy's brutalised ass - and he thinks that maybe, actually.
Maybe this one's strong after all, for despite the soul shatteringly intense, craze inducing pain the boy must be in. He's not making even one sound.
}xXx{
*RING*
Asami awakens and tuts, seeing the name of his partner flash up on his caller I.D from where his phone lay on the nightstand. He impatiently dislodges his lovers arm from his mid section, the manicured hand falling to the mattress with a flop behind him as he gets up - he hates it when people cling to him. How can they be so needy, even in sleep?
The man sits on the side of the bed, not rushing in lighting a cigarette and taking a deep inhale before he finally answers the phone.
"What is it Mikhail?"
His partner laughs, sensing the already foul mood the top undercover officer is in and offers up some good news, hoping to improve the volatile mans morning some.
"Well, the warrant finally came through on the Aisuru dorei club so we're raiding it in two hours."
Asami smirks, his partner knows him so well and there's a huge sense of satisfaction to be found in taking down scum such as Sakazaki. It had been a tough one, Asami having to bribe and manipulate even the topmost players in Tokyo's underworld to gain a clear path to Sakazaki. The man being quite the nuisance, abducting young men and women alike for at least the last six years and selling them into the sex industry.
From there he would not only just work them to beyond repair but also do something worse, much worse. If that's even possible - but unfortunately it is, and Asami's precinct happens to have a stack of cold cases almost as tall as his six food three body. All thanks to Sakazaki's business.
But. Asami had infiltrated the club and has now gained more than enough evidence to take this bastard down once and for all.
And in just two hours time.
}xXx{
The desk rattles, pens rolling off the sides and stacks of paperwork shuffling about chaotically as Sakazaki rams into Akihito violently.
The boy lay under him now, spread out temptingly with his face flushed and his legs held high and wide. A pair of large, rough hands are on his too thin throat and keep a steady, sweaty grip as the man pounds into Akihito hard.
All that's heard in the spacious office is Sakazaki's grunting, punctuated occasionally with a faint, strained panting along with the odd moan as all Akihito knows now is how to feel. Psychically feel that is as he had learned a long time ago that emotions, memories and even his own personality are the things that often get him into a lot of trouble.
The hands on his throat tighten a fraction more, teasingly before applying a sudden crushing force to the boy's larynx as Sakazaki brings himself to climax. Akihito coughs, his pure, natural instincts kicking in which prompts him to subconsciously reach for the hands at his throat. A reflex to protect one of his most vulnerable areas.
"Don't you dare Aki…" Sakazaki growls as he pants harshly above the boy. "…Don't you dare fight me."
So he drops his hands, leaving them laying there limply at his sides as his back and still sore behind slides back and forth over the polished desk top with every new, harsh thrust into him. Vision blurring, eyes rolling and he fights the urge to cough as his body rebells against the lack of oxygen.
There's a sudden commotion outside, noise spilling through the closed office door as many muffled voices are heard coming from down the hall and Sakazaki slows, wondering why there would be so many people in this section of the club at this time of morning. He presses the intercom on his desk's phone to ask his secretary just what the fucks happening, all the while still fucking Akihito.
"S-sir, there are men here and they are asking for you. I-I think it's the police!"
"...Fucks sake."
Sakazaki pulls out and hastily wipes his cock on his satin pocket handkerchief before zipping up to go and investigate. Thinking it's not like the cops would have shit on him anyway, so he anticipates being back inside Akihito in nine minutes. Max...
"Stay right there Aki, don't you move even one inch you hear me?"
Akihito doesn't nod, taking the order as absolute so he just lays there. Legs up and spread, shaking slightly with the strain but as far apart as he can manage. His arms still lay at his sides and he waits for his masters return….
}xXx{
Over the next twenty minutes theres nothing but a series of bangs, crashes and screaming from the various male and female employees getting herded about the building. Akihito can only lay there, eyes watering from the strain but still remaining as statuesque as he possibly can. He hears the door creak open somewhere behind him and mumbling before it creaks shut again and his eyes swivel like mad, trying to see around him to who has entered the room. To see if his master is back yet.
He's not.
Out in the hall, Arbatov closes the door and looks back at Asami with a smile. The taller man is smoking, walking towards where his partner stands poised with Sakazaki's office doorknob in hand.
"He was certainly in the middle of something, or someone. Maybe we should have apologised for intruding."
Asami sighs, stubbing out his cigarette on the gold brocade wallpaper before walking past his partner and entering the room, to survey the scene before him. The flushed, sweaty boy laying on the desk, legs held apart and with fat globs of semen glistening on his stomach. Red, angry bite marks cover his thighs and chest.
Asami slowly makes his way around the desk. eyes on Akihito and Akihito's eyes still wide and swivelling in their sockets as they look right back at Asami, sure it's okay if he only moves his eyeballs.
There is a strange tension and a kind of stand off as Asami stands where Sakazaki had been just a few minutes ago. He looks down at Akihito's body and genitals, observing how the boys chest rises and falls steadily and he raises a hand, running an index finger along from the silent young mans chest, along his stomach and across to a thigh, knee and down his leg. Stopping at a foot and noting how Akihito can't help but shiver at his touch.
"Pathetic."
Asami lights a cigarette, looking away from Akihito now as he takes a step away, opening and closing drawers absentmindedly on the look out for nothing in particular. He's got all the evidence he needs.
"Sakazaki isn't coming back, so it's better if you forget what ever order he just gave you. You're coming with me."
Akihito blinks, a little confused at the words. A small voice rasps out a question.
"Sa-san – back?"
"No."
"Sa-san, doko?"
"He's. Not. Coming back. Put some clothes on and follow me…"
There's a pause as Asami begins to walk to the door, only stopping when he fails to hear sounds of activity behind him.
"Don't make me repeat myself. Now…"
Akihito gulps, not sure whether to break one command in order to obey another so he hesitates. Ever so slowly dropping his legs and only when sensing no immediate reprimand for going against Sakazaki's words, does he get up. Sliding gingerly from the desk as the slightly infected wounds on his ass grate painfully against the mahogany desktop.
He leans forward then, intending to stoop down to grab his harness in order to get changed before he falls to the floor completely. Exhausted.
The boy sits crumpled on the floor, legs sprawled out under him and arms repeatedly giving way even as he tries again to stand up so he can get dressed. Programmed to obey orders.
Asami makes his way back around the desk and pulls Akihito to his feet, holding the boys bicep easily in hand as he scans around for the boys clothes. He asks where they are and Akihito directs him to the same heap of chains and leather Asami had seen three weeks ago also in this office.
"Not that." He snaps, patience wearing thin. "Don't you have any clothes?"
Akihito shakes his head a little, gesturing to somewhere behind him and grunting before he attempts to reach for the harness again and Asami pulls the boys frail arm, aborting the mutes attempt to get dressed and forces the boy to look at him, sighing once more. He tells Akihito to "stay" before he lets go of him, stepping away himself to remove his mac.
The man drapes his own coat around the boy, poking his weedy arms into the sleeves and wrapping it around him like a kimono. The coat being big enough to fit about four Akihito's in. He rolls up the sleeves a little and ties the belt tightly around the boy's midriff.
Akihito is very happy with the coat when it's all done up and does a little half twirl, not having been allowed to wear actual clothes for weeks since his visit to the department store.
"Follow me…"
They leave the room, Arbatov still loitering in the hallway with some other officers and he looks around when Asami shuts the door behind Akihito with a distinctive click. The blonde man observes the boy, he being almost dwarfed completely by the large coat he's dressed in and Arbatov looks knowingly to Asami, his own perverted mind drawing conclusions of his own as to why Asami's paying particular attention to this kid.
"Welcome back, what should we do with this little twink?"
"He's going to stay with me."
Arbatov's eyebrows raise a fraction, not being accustomed to seeing Asami offering well, anything. But Asami just smokes, purposefully not paying attention to his pain in the ass of a partner and exhales a nonchalant stream of smoke in his face before stepping past the man in order to leave.
"I'll do whatever it takes to get a conviction on Sakazaki…."
He walks down the vast hallway with Akihito in tow, passing room upon room that was up until this morning used for BDSM play and eventually feels a small tug on the sleeve of his suit jacket, so he looks back. Mildly surprised and thinking that this is a relatively bold move for such a spineless kid…
"Uh u-I can…can get?"
Asami, not quite understanding what the boy means, nods and Akihito immediately runs back on himself a little, going into another hallway as the cop frowns, wondering if the kids actually daring to run away from him so he follows, seeing Akihito opening door leading to a small room from the branched off hallway.
He steps into the room behind the boy, seeing that he's rushing to the corner where a small, rusted bed frame sits. The mattress on it doesn't really class as a mattress at all because it's so worn, springs sticking out of the top and sides.
Akihito reaches under his bed, taking out his precious box. One that was formally used to hold wash tablets and now holds his most precious of belongings. He takes out the tarnished, old red viewfinder with and his photo reel of Tokyo, looking back to Asami to leave now his personal task has been accomplished.
He clutches it to his chest and gets up – only to stop dead in his tracks, alarmed when faced with Asami's palpable anger. It filling the room.
Asami is looking at the room with utter disgust on his face, from the boiler steaming steadily in the corner to the mildew and dirt everywhere, collected in the corners and lining the walls where the breeze blocks and mortar have swelled so much from the constant build up of condensation and dust.
Even the mop and bucket sitting almost innocently in the corner gives off a stale, pungent smell of bleach.
The man sees that there's a set of stained pyjamas folded neatly upon the bed. This boy had to sleep here? And there are no personal affects, no comforts, his only possession in the world appears to be that damn box holding the view-master.
Asami's expression softens a little now as he observes the boy standing awkwardly before him.
"Done?"
Akihito nods and looks down to the floor once more, following Asami out of the room…