(cue beatboxing)
Anyways, welcome to this brand new story: Livewyre! This is probably going to be the most meta thing I'll ever write, but hey, the idea struck me. This plot is veeeeerrrryyyy loosely based off the KDrama W, which, thus far, I have only seen three episodes of. Anywho, please, please, please leave your thoughts in the reviews! This first chapter is a rocky trial run to see if anyone is interested in this at all. I hope you guys enjoy!
Summary: The Asahinas thought they had their hands full with their mother remarrying Rintarou Hinata, author of Livewyre: Japan's hottest graphic novel series. But they never expected Ema, Livewyre's heroine, to appear living and breathing before their eyes. With the world of Livewyre slowly coming to life, how can the brothers handle falling for a girl who's desperate to get back home? AU.
livewyre. / prologue.
8/31/2016
The air thrummed with electricity as a lightning storm brewed overhead. Gray clouds rolled shadows along the dreary streets, blanketing skyscrapers and reflecting along mirror-coated windows. Along the sidewalks, onlookers liberated their umbrellas as rain began to tap at the oil-slicked roads of the city.
In one particular building, a fresh-faced prosecutor leapt to his feet. Gathering his papers, he licked his lips hungrily, teeth gleaming winningly at his superiors. As a young shark fished straight out of law school, he was eager to win his first big case: the trial of Ema Chiyaka.
"Your Honor, counsel, and Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury; I intend to prove without a shadow of a doubt that the charges against the accused are true in nature, motive, and method." The blazing-eyed prosecutor paced across the floor before straightening and pointing one bony finger at a seated young girl.
"This woman committed the worst possible crime: murder of her mother and father, cold-blooded murder against those she called family. And why? Why else, but to inherit their company? You just couldn't wait, could you, Miss Chiyaka?" He braced his hands against the witness stand and leaned forward, his animalistic breath grazing across the girl's face.
She released one small, choked sob. "No! I didn't do it. They were my familiy; I loved them. I don't want the company. I just want my parents back."
Conflicted murmurs whispered through the audience. The girl was tiny, slender; only sixteen years old and on trial for murder. Her hair fell loose and matted along her shuddering shoulders. Such a pretty face, and such bloody hands to go with it.
The prosecutor slammed a fist on the mahogany before the defendant, causing her to jump in fear. "Don't lie! The evidence against you is incriminating, and you are the only one with a motive. How could the knife have ended up with your fingerprints, in your room? Who else could have made it past your family mansion's state of the art security? Why would anyone want to kill your parents, if not for their wealth and empire?"
"I don't know!" Ema moaned helplessly. "I was at the hospital on a ski trip when it happened..."
"Ah, but you had been discharged before that," the prosecutor hissed, certain that he had finished her. "And your friends say that you went home the minute you left, giving you plenty of time to make it home, stab your parents three times each, and then stash the knife, isn't that right, Chiyaka?"
"No! No, no, no—"
"Disgusting," the prosecutor snarled. "You can't even own up to it, even now. And if—"
"That's enough," the judge chastised. "Sir, please save the aggression for the interrogation room. Right now you should be questioning your witness."
The prosecutor, immediately humbled, threw a single friendly smile the judge's way and an apologetic one to the seasoned partners at his new law firm. And despite the humorous charm in his eyes when he turned back to Ema, the wolf that lurked beneath his skin waited for the opportunity to snap its teeth.
"My apologies," he dripped, "And of course, my apologies extend to the court as well."
"Proceed, sir," the judge hid the roll of her eyes. She had dealt with overzealous new lawyers before; it was impossible to get anything done with them bootlicking their superiors and bootstepping their inferiors. "And please, question your witness correctly."
"Of course," the prosecutor amended hastily. "Miss Chiyaka. Your parents were murdered last month, three stab wounds in one perfect, straight line directly beneath their ribcages. According to the autopsy, they were killed mere hours after you returned from a ski trip. You have no alibi, is this correct?"
"I do have an alibi," Ema insisted, flinching away when the prosecutor's eyes flared in irritation. "I veered off the slope on the ski trip and had only just gotten out of the hospital, so my father's bodyguard, Shinozuka Daisuke, had to drive me home. When I got there, I saw my parents dead and ran to them first thing. That was when I screamed."
The prosecutor turned to the court, a "can you believe this girl?" look on his face as if sharing an inside joke with old friends. The judge once again hid her exasperation at his lack of professionality, instead prompting for him to continue with his questioning.
"I see," the prosecutor mused, stroking his chin sagely. "And that was when...?"
"That was when a friend of mine, Ritsurisu Juli, entered the room and panicked. Then he called the ambulance, but it was already too late." She choked, but cleared her throat and continued. "The police made up their minds to blame me from the start. There isn't any solid evidence that I did it."
"And until you provide evidence that you didn't," the prosecutor growled softly, "The autopsy says that you did."
"You want evidence?"
The prosecutor and witness jumped at the new voice and the room turned to the looming figure standing at the pristine double doors to the courtroom. His face, as stern and handsome as a stone guardian, twisted into sharp lines and hard edges far more imposing than the prosecutor's false wolfishness. A black jacket over a black dress shirt tucked into black pants wove him into the shadows as he swept down the aisle in long and precise strides. He halted before the judge and one muscular arm brandished a polished folder before the audience.
"Here's your evidence."
He threw it in the direction of the prosecutor, whose face had blanched in fear of the folder's contents. "Your Honor, I object to this sudden and violent outburst! How can we even know this... man... is trustworthy? Who is he anyway, to—"
"Shinozuka Daisuke!" The man snarled. As if realizing how loudly he had spoken, he said more softly, albeit just as dangerously, "The bodyguard in question."
If the prosecutor was a shark before, he was now a goldfish in the face of the tall newcomer. Despite his stammering protests, the judge leaned forward, eager for Shinozuka to continue.
"I have proof that Miss Ema Chiyaka could not have committed the murder of her parents. In this folder is hospital records showing that Miss Chiyaka left the hospital only moments before the fatal stabbing of her parents. It would have been impossible for her to have made it home quickly enough to kill her parents and stash the weapon. Your Honor, also note the footage, both with the date and time, directly from the source of the Chiyaka Mansion's security system. The late Mister Chiyaka installed hidden cameras all over his home for situations such as this, and as you can see, one of the cameras clearly shows a hooded figure leaving through the back door as Miss Chiyaka enters the front door. This trial of Miss Chiyaka is nothing but framed and manipulated, all to hide the identity of the real killer!"
A panicked uproar gripped the court, and the first strike of lightning flared overhead to seep through the windows and illuminate the heads of the audience.
"Order!" The judge cried, thudding her gavel upon the podium. "Order in my court!"
Ema nearly melted with relief, clasping her hands in front of her as grateful tears streamed down her face. Daisuke's eyes lit up with pride as the judge called for the chaos to silence.
"That is enough! Bailiff, uncuff the witness, and counselors, report back home. Miss Chiyaka,"
Ema sucked in a breath of anticipation.
"You are free to go."
Cheers shook the courthouse as Ema broke into sobs, her small body scooped up into a crowd of larger ones. News reporters converged on the bodyguard, begging for answers as to how he knew to look for the hidden cameras, how he knew Ema Chiyaka was innocent, and most importantly, what his relationship was with the newly-acquitted heiress. Friends and family gathered the pair into teary hugs, cupping Ema's face in their hands and whispering how happy they were that she was finally, finally free.
But in one dark, shadowy corner of the courtroom, a figure seethed in rage at the liberation for the innocent girl.
Two Years Later
"Ma'am!"
Ema looked up from her cell phone to the man running frantically to her.
"Ma'am!" He cried again, tripping over his shoelaces and falling into Ema's arms, where she chuckled fondly.
"Kichiro-san, you need to be more careful. What do you need?"
"Ma'am," he repeated, "Where are you going? To get coffee? I need to remind you, you have an appointment today, today at three o'clock, three o'clock sharp!"
Ema blinked at him, before registering what he was saying and nodding in remembrance. "Oh, that's right. Thank you, Kichiro-san. I really do mean it when I say that my number one reason for keeping appointments is because you keep them for me. I tell everybody that, in fact. I don't know what I'd do without you."
The man brimmed with pride at his boss's praise, and Ema smiled and patted his shoulder.
Aisaka Kichiro: Ema's most trusted and organized secretary. Like the rest of the staff, he had worked for her parents in the years before their death. He was thin and flighty, with a big pair of thick-rimmed glasses sitting high on the bridge of his nose. More often than not, Ema worried more for his health than his position at the company, forcing him to take days off when his cheeks became too sunken or his hands became too shaky.
And with a quick glance at him, she decided that he needed another vacation.
"Kichiro-san, before I go, I need to ask if you want to take a break."
"N-no, ma'am! Especially after all that you just said, that is, what you said about me keeping your appointments! I do keep your appointments, most of them in fact, and you have so, so many over this next week I couldn't possibly consider leaving you in this time of trouble. Not only do you have more appointments than usual, but you have nearly fifty! Fifty, ma'am! First you have that meeting with the future CEO to Domino, and then the vice president of ElectricDen, and then you have to induct the interns who—"
"Aisaka-san," a deep voice cut in, and Ema's muscles relaxed the tension she hadn't even realized was building up. "Juli-kun and I can handle it. Your CEO says to go home."
Kichiro, shrinking away at the order, nodded once, and Daisuke turned to Ema.
"Hello."
"Hi," she responded, smiling up at him. "Thank you for getting him off my back."
Daisuke shrugged, embarrassment creeping across his face as he guided her through the maze of cars in the parking garage. "He means well."
Ema nodded pensively at him. "Yes, I suppose he does. But I do still need to thank you. It seems like you're always getting me out of situations like this."
Daisuke coughed awkwardly as a blush became more prominent on his high cheekbones, and he brought one hand up to play with the dark hair sweeping over his eyes. Both of them knew it was true; from the smallest things like getting her away from Kichiro to the largest ones like getting her away from jail, it seemed like the towering young man had spent more of the past two years getting her out of her troubles than he did his own.
And for that, Ema couldn't be more grateful.
He hadn't changed at all since the day he provided evidence for Ema's trial. Now a handsome twenty-year-old, he was one of Ema's closest friends and confidants, as well as her full-time bodyguard. After the trial, the man had made it his duty to protect the daughter of his late employer, and had done so magnificently. He had achieved the highest rank in four types of martial arts and was proficient in firing guns; however, most importantly to Ema, he wasn't as well-verse with handling knives. Standing at well over six feet, Daisuke was a formidable presence that radiated pure, unadulterated prowess. His daunting height and silence often scared away the most confident of employees, but to Ema, there was no greater comfort than to feel the calm shadow of her best friend standing nearby.
"Get in the car," Daisuke ordered simply, holding the door open for her with one hand and tapping away at his phone on the other. He slid into the driver's seat and clicked his seatbelt into place, waiting till Ema had done the same before starting the car. "Juli-kun, Ryuji-kun, and Nanami-chan are coming to coffee as well."
"They are?" Ema asked incredulously.
"I didn't invite them. They invited themselves."
"Ano, I suppose they can come. It was just coffee, and I haven't talked to most of them in a while."
Daisuke grunted in response as he pulled out of the parking complex and into the bright daylight. He drove in comfortable silence, listening to Ema as she mused about her company: Livewyre.
He had to admit that Ema was more proficient than even her father was in running the booming electronics empire. At eighteen, she was already the face of business magazines not only across Japan, but all over the globe. She cared about her employees, and they, in turn, cared about her. After the death of her parents, Livewyre's assets had nearly been dissolved and redistributed to other big buyers. But with quick thinking, even through all her grief and trauma, Ema had transferred ownership to herself and her employees, buying back the company her father had given so much for. Through hard work and sheer determination, she'd expanded the company exponentially till it was even bigger than it had been in the first place.
And as Daisuke always tried to tell himself, he held nothing but respect for her because of that.
"Daisuke, you passed the coffee shop."
The young man whipped the steering wheel into a quick u-turn while Ema nearly hit her head against the window. The only betrayal to his mortification was the red that stained the tips of his ears, and Ema, noting this with a giggle, reached out to flick one of them as she teased,
"Don't be embarrassed. But I have to admit, it's not really like you not to pay attention."
Again, the only response she received was a grunt, but as usual, she couldn't bring herself to care.
Once Daisuke shifted the car into park, he moved around the front of the car to help Ema out of her seat. Through the window, she could see her three friends already seated and nursing their own mugs of coffee.
"Hi, everyone," Ema greeted as she pulled up a chair, smiling softly at them while Daisuke moved to sit at a table nearby.
"None of that, now." One of her friends, Nanami, scolded Daisuke sternly and caught him by the black sleeve of his suit jacket. Throwing him into a seat beside Ema, she greeted the two as formally as ever. Ema smiled brightly while Daisuke murmured his hellos.
Nanami was, to Ema, the most beautiful girl she'd ever met. Her eyes were long and shaped like almonds, a butterscotch gold in color and almost sharper than her wit. Her face was angular, framed by sheets of pin-straight brown-black hair. She was clever and honest and fiercely loyal; sometimes, Ema found herself awestruck at how handsome of a couple her best friend and her bodyguard would make together. But besides shared glances and secretive smiles, the two never cared much for each other. Romantically, that was, though to Ema's knowledge, they'd shared at least one night together, which was incentive enough for her to root for them gently from the sidelines.
As if noting the direction Ema's thoughts had taken, Daisuke kicked her ankle underneath the table and shot her a warning glance. She'd told him once her opinion on him and Nanami. He'd promptly paled and gone outside for fresh air.
But Nanami-chan could definitely use a boyfriend... maybe Kichiro. Ema laughed inwardly at the idea of her cool, collected friend ordering around her skittish secretary, then waved the thought away.
"Hm. I can't believe there was another murder."
Ema jumped, her body going taut in the chair. It was another friend of hers, Juli, who spoke. Clucking his tongue and making a squirrel-like noise, he pointed at the television mounted three rows behind her. "I didn't mean to scare you, Chi-chan. But looks like that murderer is at it again."
It was true. The bland-faced news reporter drawled about another stabbing: one young woman, killed in her own home by three stab wounds in one perfect line beneath her ribs. Ema shuddered. It was the exact same way her parents were killed: so methodically left to bleed out where nobody else could find them, dying afraid and alone in a place they thought was safe.
"It's so cold-blooded." A new voice spoke up, and Ema tore her eyes away from the television to nod at the last occupant at the table, Ryuji. His eyes were large and sad as he watched the news with rapt attention. Out of all of them, besides Ema, he was the one always most horrified by these killings, the trail always running dry with every new body found.
Ema hummed her agreement, concealing her agony in the coffee mug she raised to her lips. "Yeah, I agree. I think I'm going to put some more of Livewyre's funds into catching the killer."
"More funds, Chi-chan?" Nanami raised one fine eyebrow at the girl sitting adjacent to her. "You'll never catch him that way. He'll get to you first. Tell me, do you still sleep with a knife under your pillow?"
Yes. "No. But there's nothing else I can do."
"I'm sure Daisuke would be more than happy to go out and catch him for you." Nanami gave him a pointed look, and Daisuke's glare advised her to tread with caution. Her mouth snapped shut, nervous to aggravate her senior.
Ema shook her head. "I could never—"
Her phone buzzed on the table, and she jumped, still high-strung at the news of the latest murder. "I'm so sorry. Do you mind if I take this?" The other four at the table nodded their assent, still engaged by the story unfolding on the television screen, and Ema stood and strode outside before answering the call. "Hello?"
"Where are you...?"
She froze.
Something was wrong. So very wrong.
The voice that answered was perfectly cordial; friendly, even, as though rehearsed. But it was so cold, so chilling, so empty it could have killed her on the spot. "Where in the world could you possibly have gone?"
"H-hello? Who is this?" Ema tried to keep her voice strong, unwavering, but her efforts were in vain when she whimpered as the voice lilted happily.
"I'm going to get you. Don't you ever forget that."
An impish chuckle and a click of a receiver, and the line went dead.
She excused herself immediately after that.
Of course, Daisuke noticed how pale and shaken she was when she returned to the table, and brought her straight to the hotel suite penthouse she called home. After escorting her upstairs, he caught her arm. "Ema."
She blinked up at him. It was rare he called her anything besides "Ema-san" or even "Chiyaka-sama," a habit he picked up when he had been working under her father. The last time he had addressed her as anything but a formal name had been after her parents died and she had been acquitted, when the reality of her situation had caught up to her and she curled up on a couch to sob while Daisuke stood sadly in the doorway.
"...What?"
"Go... go directly to bed."
Ema, even more confused, assesed him as if wondering if he'd been replaced by a doppelganger.
"Please."
Ema nodded slowly. "Ano... sure, Daisuke. I can do that."
He nodded, an emotion heavy in his eyes, one that Ema couldn't quite name. "And..." Hesitating, he leaned down and gently brushed his lips against her mouth, hardly making contact at all. "I just thought you should know. That's why I can't start seeing Nanami-san."
Somehow, something about the sudden display of affection unsettled Ema more than pleased her. Not because of Daisuke himself; no, Daisuke, if given the chance, could be any girl's dream man. Tall, loyal, protective, attractive. But everything seemed too staged, too planned out. It felt as if she were supposed to react a certain way. She half-expected the moment to be a script, and for Daisuke to continue on with his lines as if she were simply an actor who forgot her part. Her usually stoic friend suddenly declaring his love felt so uncharacteristically out-of-place that the sweet gesture of a kiss turned from "loving" into "disturbing." And partnered with the unsolicited call from the suspicious number, it turned into downright "terrifying," making her wonder if Daisuke was feeling okay.
Before she could question him on it, though, he was gone, leaving her stunned in the foyer to her hotel suite.
True to her word, Ema headed straight to her bedroom and changed into a white silk nightgown. Lighter than air, the fine fabric fell over her body like water over smooth stones. She vaguely noted that it was one she never wore: in fact, it was one she never remembered buying, and wearing it now seemed so out of context she nearly changed into a ratty t-shirt. She curled up in her heavy duvet, running her fingers along familiar canvas of a knife holster beneath the pillow. When Daisuke couldn't provide her comfort, the idea that she could defend herself against a murderer always did.
And then she was walking.
She didn't know why. One moment, she was shielded by blankets and pillows and three locked doors, and the next, her bare feet were padding along the plush carpeting of the hallway outside her suite, her mind reasoning that she decided to take a walk because she couldn't sleep.
I didn't bring a knife, she thought distantly. Why am I doing so many things that I would never do? And Daisuke, also?
The ding of the elevator signaled her to enter, and she hesitated as she turned to face the entrance. Which floor to go to? Did she even need to go anywhere? She was about to leave and just go back to bed before a snap decision pushed her to press the button for the thirteenth floor, seventeen floors down. She shuddered at the lurch of the elevator, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.
I'm going to die.
She shook her head rapidly, feeling like she needed to be sick. No... stop scaring yourself.
Ema had never been to the thirteenth floor before. It was just as pristine as the penthouse, albeit a little bit less luxurious. Paintings at least twice the height of Daisuke adorned the walls, and the carpet was soft beneath her toes. She wandered down the hall with her hands clasped behind her back. And she paused.
The door to the room beside her was cracked open, the inside of the room dark save for a glowing red screen sitting on the desk. The fourteenth room on the thirteenth floor, with one light and infinite darkness inside. There was something frighteningly ominous about that, but Ema was already reaching for the handle.
Close the door. Don't go in there. You're doing things you would never do.
"Hello?"
There was only silence and the ruffle of the curtains as they danced beside the open window.
"Hello?" She repeated, inching back toward the door.
Her back hit something solid and warm.
"Hello, Ema," returned an amiable voice: one that sounded infinitely pleased to see her and impossibly amused to catch her. "I told you I was going to get you."
Her bloodcurdling scream echoed through the room as the door slammed shut.
Eek! A brand new story, and it's already at 4,000+ words. Yikes.
This is just a prologue to give context to the rest of the story. You'll see a lot more of the Asahina brothers in the next chapter. This is going to be a little different from the rest of my stories, as in I'm going to develop her relationships with the brothers in this new universe, and likely give them bigger romantic roles than I normally would. I've already got a good portion of the outline mapped out, both with the alternate ending(s) and main ending(s), and I'm definitely not going to spoil on how many there are. ;)
Anyway, please, please, please review! I'd love to know what you guys think so far, if it's interesting, if it's confusing, if it Sucks(TM). I'm super excited to have this up as a side project to Green-Eyed, and a main project once that story comes to a close, which shouldn't be for another ten or so chapters.
Later, everyone, and thanks for reading!