Akihito stumbled around the corner and sprinted down the alleyway, leaping over discarded bottles and dodging fallen trash cans, his heart pounding in his ears as he frantically searched for a hiding place. Hearing the shouts behind him get louder, he clutched his bag closer to his chest and ducked down behind a pile of wood stacked up against the side of the building. Panting and lightheaded, he wedged his pack under some loose debris, closed his eyes in concentration and, with a quiet popping sound, a small caracal stood in his place, silvery coat and unusually vivid blue eyes gleaming in the light of the setting sun. Akihito crouched down and wiggled through a gap in the wood pile, squeezing his tiny body into the dark hollow beneath rotting beams and curling up as far from the makeshift entrance as possible.
The slap of running feet on asphalt grew louder and soon two men ran past Akihito's refuge, crashing through the remnants of a chain link fence at the end of the alley and turning the corner. Akihito waited with bated breath until the racket they were making slowly faded into the distance before he poked his head out through the gap in the wood and peered cautiously around for any more pursuers. Seeing no sign of any people or animals in his vicinity, the little cat crept lightly out of the hole and nosed around until he could stick his head through the strap on his raggedy pack, pulling in small jerks until it came free from the trash he'd buried it under. Wiggling until the bag rested on his back, nearly dwarfing his body, Akihito trotted down the alley in the opposite direction of where the men had gone, running swiftly across the empty road and disappearing into the building directly adjacent to his former hiding place, thankful that he'd been in the area before and knew this particular warehouse was typically devoid of people.
The tiny cat padded around a tower of precariously-stacked wooden crates, one of many such towers lining the walls of the building, and spotted a small enclosed room in the far corner complete with a large rectangular window, presumably the office of some long-gone supervisor when the warehouse was actually in use. He clumsily scampered across the cavernous space and into the room, wiggling out from under his bag and shifting back into human form with a long, lazy stretch, arms raised above his head and back arching until it cracked in a satisfying way.
Grateful, as always, that his clothing shifted with him when he had to make a quick getaway, Akihito brushed his hands down his raggedy blue t-shirt and black joggers in a vain attempt to smooth out some of the wrinkles. Giving it up as a bad job, he crouched down and unzipped his pack, pulling out a dented can of takoyaki, a half-full bottle of water, a crumpled packet of crisps, and a box of broken strawberry pocky, the last of his measly food reserves. Setting the food aside for now, though his stomach grumbled with hunger, the silvery blond boy pulled out a battered camera and ejected the memory card, holding it up to the light pensively. In his grasp was the means to take down the entire Enomoto group of Tokyo, and he had acquired it – and his two pursuers – by complete accident. Shaking his head at his own bad luck, Aki plopped down onto the hard stone floor and yanked off one of his ratty sneakers, tucking the small disk into his sock and pulling the sneaker back on, tying it up securely in case he needed to make another quick escape.
Going up on his knees to peer through the glass window into the rest of the warehouse, Aki listened intently for any approaching footsteps or voices, on edge that the Enomoto goons would double-back and search the area for him. Finally, assured that he was safe for the moment, Aki sat down with his back to the wall, thankful for once that he was short enough that his head wouldn't be visible through the window if anyone did come in. The boy cracked open the takoyaki and shoveled some into his mouth using the lid as a makeshift spoon, hunger making his hands shake as the rush of adrenaline slowly faded from his system.
Kou and Takato would say it was his own curse following him around, that he could get into so much trouble just for trying to take photos of the sunset over the ocean and instead capturing an illegal drug deal between the head of a prominent Yakuza family and Diet member Harada. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with the pictures, if anything, but he also knew that he could no longer stay in the area. Ever since he'd escaped from his horrible foster family a few years ago, he'd been sleeping in parks, abandoned buildings, or staying over with Kou or Takato, but he was loathe to impose on his old grade school friends too often, especially now that they were both attending the local college. Aki finished the takoyaki and took a few sips of water, then treated himself to one of his precious pocky sticks before bundling everything back up and shoving it all back into his pack. He was dying for a shower and a nap, not necessarily in that order, but he knew he was already taking too many risks just by remaining in the area for this short amount of time. Abruptly straightening, Aki listened intently, unsure if he had imagined the slight noise of a shoe scuffling over concrete but alert all the same, his muscles quivering as his adrenaline ramped up. He heard no other sounds for several long seconds, his heart in his throat and his pulse pounding in his ears, until suddenly, violently, all hell broke loose.
***********
Asami Ryuichi looked up from the accounting reports of his newest club, Club Entity, when there was a brisk knock on his door.
Enter," he said, shuffling the papers back into their folder. He knew this must be rather important, as he'd instructed Kirishima not to disturb him unless absolutely necessary. Kirishima Kei opened the door and entered the sleek, expansive office, bowing politely to his boss before closing the door gently behind him.
"I apologize for the intrusion, Asami-sama, but there has been a development at one of the warehouses that I believe you should see," the bespectacled man approached Asami's desk with a laptop in his hands and settled it down in front of Asami with a soft thud. The screen was open to the security camera footage for Warehouse Three down at the docks, a scarcely-used location as it was too often patrolled by the police to be completely secure. There were eight different cameras at this particular warehouse, but Kirishima had the footage from camera five queued up and ready to play.
Asami hit play and watched the screen intently, curious despite himself to see what Kirishima thought was so important. The warehouse was empty and still for several seconds until the slightest movement at the far corner of the building caught his attention. He watched as a small form slowly crept into view, dragging what appeared to be a cloth bag of some sort and somewhat clumsily moving across the floor.
"You brought me footage of a cute cat dragging a bag, Kirishima?" Asami was not amused, to say the least. Kirishima cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose.
"Please continue watching the footage, Asami-sama," the man replied, and Asami turned his attention back to the laptop just in time to see the cat disappear into the old foreman's office. Suddenly, a boy stood up inside the office and stretched out his lean body, arms high over his head and his belly showing as his shirt rode up slightly. Asami eyed the fuzzy form on the screen as he took a sip of whiskey from his crystal-cut glass, appreciating the look of his lithe muscles and somewhat disappointed that the footage was only in black and white.
"As much as I enjoy the eye candy, Kirishima, I hope you brought this to me for another reason than a squatter and his pet cat," Asami looked at his secretary, secretly amused at his constipated expression. The man in question adjusted his glasses again and clicked on the icon for the camera positioned in the foreman's office, expanding the screen and pressing play. From a different angle, the two men watched the small cat, which now appeared to be an exotic kind rather than a mere stray, drag the bag into the room and then, unbelievably, shift into the youth from the other footage. Asami set his glass down on the desk with a thud, whiskey splashing up against the rim, and replayed the footage once, twice more, before looking at Kirishima with burning golden eyes.
"This footage is not doctored in any way? This is a direct live stream from the warehouse?" Asami's voice was deep and commanding, his aura growing dark and dangerous in the air around him.
"Yes, Asami-sama, this footage is from roughly seven minutes ago and there is no evidence that it has been falsified in any way," Kirishima replied briskly, unsurprised at his boss's intensity.
"Retrieve him, Kirishima. Do whatever it takes, but warn the men that he is not to be harmed. Take Suoh with you." Kirishima bowed and assured his boss that it would be done immediately. He made it to the door before his boss spoke again, his voice raising the tiny hairs on the back of Kirishima's neck.
"Do not fail me in this, Kei."