Title: Race to the Finish

Rating: M (Mostly just be safe for now. It'll earn the M in later chapters)

Pairing: Asami/Akihito (past Akihito/FEM-OC)

Summary: After taking a nasty fall, Akihito's mom reveals a secret that has been buried within her son's memory for a decade. Now old friends from his past are in need of his help to free themselves from an old rival. Will Akihito reach the finish line in time to save them?

AN: This is for Isabella1948's prompt where Akihito has a secret past. It's not exactly what they wanted, but I might not have wrote this if not for them, so please read their work (especially if you're a fan of Mpreg) and tell them thank you in a review. This story takes place roughly three years after the canon story currently being played out.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this FANFICTION except the OCs.

Year: 2002

It was fairly late at night, with the lights turned down low, and a sixteen year old male was sleeping peacefully on top of the bed. Never once paying attention to the sound of insistent beeping, the wires and sensors that attached the beeping device to himself, or of the needle that was inserted into his left arm and the tube that ran between the needle and the I.V. bag. The boy had light sandy colored hair and, when opened, the most beautiful hazel eyes that anyone should be so lucky as to gaze upon. The young man was one Takaba Akihito, recuperating in the hospital after a terrible car crash. If it weren't for the medical equipment that was hooked up to him, (or the various cuts, bruises, bandages wrapped around various places over his body, and the cast around his right arm) he would make the perfect picture of a sleeping angel.

At least that's what the young woman in the room, watching over him, believed. The tears of sheer relief in knowing that her friend was going to pull through, and the sorrow that she felt for what she was about to do, flowed unhindered down her face. If any other, conscious, person was in the room they'd be able to see her long flowing morning gold hair and sad emerald green eyes and swear that she was the personification of a somber dawn rising. Subconsciously, she moved her left hand to place it on her stomach as she continue to gaze at the boy. She closed her eyes, and took a deep calming breath, before opening them up once more. Sadness remained, but her eyes also now held a strong resolve within them.

Gently petting her right hand through Akihito's hair, The seventeen year old woman told the slumbering angel; "You no longer have a place in our world. Goodby." With that she turned around and began to head out the door. Just before she left, however, she glanced behind herself one more time. Eyes and voice trembled in pure anguish as she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Ten years later:

Akihito was sitting in the back of a posh limo, pouting. Yet again his lover, one Asami Ryuichi, a man with short midnight black hair and sinfully golden eyes, had managed to track him down and have his men catch Akihito. The boy, well technically man seeing as how he is twenty six yet still a child when compared to the imposing man sitting before him, glared at Asami. "Dammit you bastard. I wasn't even trying to take pictures of anything that has to do with your business, I was on my way to a photo shoot!"

Ah yes, Asami's "business". On the surface Asami was well known entrepreneur that owned numerous high class (i.e. exclusive and expensive to get in) night clubs, the most famous being 'Club Sion,' all over Shinjuku. However, What Asami really was was head of his own criminal empire. If you wanted drugs, weapons, anything illegal really he was the man to go to in Shinjuku. Maybe all of Japan.

Asami glanced up from the paper work he was looking through and smirked at "his kitten". Honestly, if anyone would have told the man a few years ago that he would catch this brash, crude, passionate, photo journalist (who, in any other reality, should be considered an enemy because of the boy's occupation and how it could threaten Asami's own) and then how he would proceed to fall in love with the boy. Asami would probably have shot that person.

"I know, I'm the one renting the space out to the modeling agency that hired you for the shoot. I just thought it would make sense that we head to work together." Asami coolly replied. Akihito's eyes widen in shock before he glared once again. To bad, or maybe thank goodness depending on who you are, that Akihito's impending temper tantrum was put a stop to before it even started, thanks to the sudden lurch that the limo took. Asami narrowed his eyes as he rolled the window that separated him from the front down. "What happened?"

It was the dark haired man with glasses, Kirishima, who answered the Yakuza. "It would appear that there is something wrong with the engine. Suoh has already walked out to try to see what the problem cou-" He was cut off by the sounds of a lot of hot steam rushing out from under the now opened hood and the loud exclamation of pain and frustration from his blond counterpart. The three remaining men exit the vehicle to see what could make the normally composed Suoh curse like that.

While Asami and Kirishima looked over Suoh's now slightly red hands, Akihito pulled out the bandana that he was in the habit of taking with him to every job he goes, and used it to wave the remaining steam from the engine away. What he saw surprised, and oddly enough angered, him.

"Who the Hell is in charge of keeping this thing running?! Whoever it is needs to be fired... Both figurative and literally! This engine is a mess! Look at all the dirt and grime coating everything. No wonder it overheated!" Using the bandana Akihito pulls out what appears to be a long, thin, metal stick. "NO OIL?! Who the fuck doesn't check to make sure the damn car has oil?! This is not how you treat such a beautiful piece of machinery! And don't get me started on the fan belt!"

Once the photographer finished his rant, Asami looked to Kirishima and ordered him to find out just who it was indeed that let his favorite limo get into such shape. Seriously, the men were lucky that the club was just barely a block away so that they can simply walk the rest of the way, though they had to physically pull the photographer away to do so. The Yakuza noticing that his kitten was still fuming while muttering to himself about whatever else it was that he notice was wrong with the engine. Something about the transmission is most likely in bad shape as well. Smirking, Asami commented; "Since when did you become a mechanic Akihito? From the way you were acting just now, I'd thought you would start demanding for tools to work on the limo yourself."

Akihito paused. Looking at his lover with confusion written all over his face. "What are you talking about Asami? I.." Akihito grabbed his head with one of his hands, never noticing how his eyes seem to glaze over or that Asami's narrowed in both suspension and concern. "I've never worked on a car in my life. I don't even know how to drive."

AN2: Yes, as you may have guessed by now, the theme for this fic is tied to cars (racing, not that damn movie. not one of pixar's best in my opinion.) and amnesia. I hope everyone who reads this fic will enjoy it. RTTF should only be about seven chapters long, and I will be updating it every Saturday or Sunday until it's done.

Also, I managed to post the prologue one day before my Birthday. One day ahead of my goal, BONUS!