Sometimes I write things at like 3 in the morning, save them without a title, forget about them and then find them 6 months later. When I find them, it's like a made myself a little present.
This is one of those stories.
I had to rewrite it a little but I really like the concept because you know Akihito would go to bat for his man.
ALSO BIG DISCLAIMER: I"M NOT A DOCTOR AND I DIDN'T DO MUCH MORE THAN CURSORY RESEARCH ON THIS SO THIS IS PROBABLY NOT MEDICALLY ACCURATE. DON'T YELL AT ME.
I honestly don't have much to say about this except that I love mobwife!Akihito embracing Asami's business with all of my little shrunken heart. I hope you guys like it too.
Please enjoy and let me know what you think! I hope you guys are as into this concept as I am.
Love,
Izzy
}{
At first, room 504 had been suffocating, a cavernous coffin for his own despair. Now though, it's his only real reprieve.
It's nice, a suite like only Asami could afford. There is a large window on the far wall that looks out onto a quieter section of Tokyo. It's nothing like the window in their apartment Akihito thinks, but it's better than no window at all and on warmer days it can be opened to let in a breeze.
There aren't any flowers.
The first time Akihito returned to the room- after being sent home by Kirishima to shower, shave and 'eat something please'- the lack of flowers had struck him. It was stupid, he knew, but every time he'd ever visited someone in the hospital there had been flowers. Of course, in order for there to be flowers, someone has to send them and the more Akihito thought about it, the more he realized that Asami isn't friends with the sort of people who send flowers. He isn't really friends with anyone at all. Akihito thought about bringing some himself but quickly realized that it would be more for his own gratification than for Asami's. In the end, he brought a pack of Dunhills and Asami's lighter. They sit patiently on the bedside table, waiting.
Nurses filter in and out all through the night, taking notes, changing fluids. They are all wary of Akihito; they've all heard the stories. If Asami were awake he might laugh and call him a brat, but he's not so Akihito just smiles at them and tries to be friendly.
}{
Akihito had turned his cellphone off.
It was stupid and pointless, just a show to piss Asami off, to let him be the one to roll to voicemail for once, see how he likes it. If Asami wanted to talk then he'd just have to wait until he got home, if he even planned on coming home. He could rot for all Akihito cared.
His first distorted thought upon being shaken awake was a weak sort of satisfaction that Asami couldn't just go to sleep without his acknowledgment. Then he'd looked up to find Kirishima glaring down at him and everything had gone to hell.
Nothing made sense; Kirishima had explained the situation over and over but he couldn't process the information. Asami didn't get shot; the man was immune, untouchable, infallible. He was beyond assassination, beyond death.
And yet when they arrived, the doctors were frantic. They knew who they were treating, understood the consequences should they fail, but a bullet to the head was a bullet to the head and there was so little to be done without causing more damage.
The were going to put him into coma.
Akihito was beside himself, too distraught to understand what they were trying to tell him-
"-going into surgery-"
.
.
..."- completely reversible-"...
..
...
..."-allow him time to heal without damaging-"...
He'd argued, fought with doctors, tearful and anxious and beyond reason. He was unaware of his rising voice until Kirishima had all but dragged him out into the hallway, wrestling him onto a bench and holding him in place until he gave up and dissolved, slouching despondently. Then the secretary spoke, his voice as calm as ever.
"You're being disrespectful. They know what they're doing."
It was oddly comforting, in the way Kirishima sometimes was.
}{
Some time after midnight Akihito scoots his chair closer to the bed and leans forward, resting his head against Asami's side. The man's breathing is sure and calming, his heartbeat unwavering if slow.
If Akihito focuses, he can trick himself into thinking everything is okay.
}{
Akihito was a fixture at Asami's bedside for two days before Kirishima managed to explain to him the futility of staring at a sleeping man and convinced him to return home to shower and "prepare".
At the time, he'd taken it as 'prepare for the worst'.
'prepare for a funeral'
He'd slept alone for the first time in months.
The next morning he slid into the back of the BMW expecting to be driven to the hospital.
Instead, he was taken to Asami's Shinjuku offices, sat behind the man's desk and briefed. Suddenly there were bank statements and company documents, property deeds and a will.
"Everything goes to you."
Akihito was frantic and frozen, staring at the papers being handed to him but not reading anything. The same thought echoed through his mind until eventually he realized he had to say it out loud in order for it to be heard.
"He's not dead..."
Kirishima didn't respond, just kept handing him papers, outlining clauses, telling him where to sign until-
"He's not dead!"
"Takaba-san, this is Asami-sama's living will. These are the things that need to be done in order to keep operations running smoothly as well as to support you and ensure that you have everything you need should his temporary incapacitation become..."
"...Permanent."
Akihito finished, staring at the documents in his hand.
"What happens if I say no?"
}{
Overall, Akihito thinks he's done a decent job. He doesn't mind the clubs so much; they almost manage themselves as long as he keeps an eye on the financial reports. It's mostly making sure everything adds up, that no one's pocketing profits.
The rest of the business though... The fact that Asami would shelter him from something for years and then expect him to know how to run it is both irritating and typical. For so long Akihito had bristled at the thought of Asami underestimating him that this apparent faith in his ability has him desperate to prove himself.
But there is reluctance as well.
No matter how much he loves Asami- and what they have is love, obsessive, unhealthy and hard-won- their morals will never match up. His lover will always live by his own set of rules and that's fine, that's something he can live with, but it's not something he can do.
It's not something Asami has ever asked him to do.
Even now, "running things", he's not doing much; he'd discovered early on that Kirishima highly appreciates being asked what Asami would do in any situation that requires intervention. He relies on him more than he ever thought he would and, for his part, Kirishima doesn't seem to mind.
Giving up on his awkward perch, Akihito makes the careful, lumbering transition to lay beside Asami, nestled between him and the rail of the bed. His chin goes to Asami's shoulder, resting gingerly.
Part of Asami's head is shaved but it's mostly hidden by bandages.
It's hard for Akihito to think of Asami as lucky. To an outsider he must look fortunate, blessed even, but Akihito knows of all the thought, skill and preparation that go into everything he does. Nothing in Asami's life was gained by dumb luck and yet dumb luck is the reason he's breathing without assistance: The bullet passed through his skull without doing any damage to his brain, a one in a million shot. There's a metal plate beneath his scalp, shaping where the skull was shattered. It's impossible to tell from looking at him, though he's praying for a day that he can tease Asami for setting off the metal detectors in their building.
Dozing, he senses a tentative presence by the door. He doesn't sit up, simply invites Kirishima in, hoping to remain in place just a little longer.
He barely hears the man approach but when his shadow falls across the bed Akihito deftly kicks the chair out, wordlessly offering him a seat which he doesn't take.
"We have an issue with the Qingdao trade route."
Akihito doesn't even open his eyes he's so tired.
"What kind of an issue."
"It's leaking like a sieve. Nearly a quarter of our 'goods' didn't reach their destination but the local triad is suddenly quite well armed."
He slides his arm over Asami's waist, pulling himself closer from behind. He'd told Kirishima from the beginning that he doesn't want details. He'll manage things, give orders like he's supposed to, but he doesn't want to know all the grimy dealings that fall under the umbrella of Sion Corp., even though he's suddenly its CEO, even though he's suddenly in Forbes.
Even though the whole world can smell blood in the water.
"Do we know who our guy is?"
"There are three actually, I can bring you their dossiers?"
"No."
He can't look at that shit right now. Asami has more files than the FBI on everyone from his club managers to his cleaning crew to Akihito and if he has to read through one more he's going to scream.
"Pull them out of the field, interrogate them and make sure we're right. We still have top tier people in Shanghai right? Let them supervise until everything's cleared up, then we can figure out who to instal permanently."
"And if they're guilty?"
"... Same rules at before."
Because he doesn't want blood on his hands, he doesn't. Kirishima has warned him repeatedly: the more lenient he appears, the more likely they are to run into trouble. But so far the disturbances have been minor, small time gangs and duplicitous employees testing his limits, seeing how much the can get away with now that Asami's bitch is running the show. He doesn't care if it makes him look weak, so long as he doesn't have to call himself a murderer. He knows Asami would understand. Will understand. Still, if things continue to progress as they have been, it won't be long until he himself is armed.
He dreads the coming months, should Asami remain asleep. The longer this farce of leadership goes on, the bigger the challengers are going to become. Feilong has sworn loyalty to him, to support him in much the way Asami had once supported him- when he was young and lost and in power- but even Feilong sounds wary when he speaks of the larger organizations that may try to muscle him for Asami's territory. He warns him that he won't start a war over this, that it isn't worth the danger to Akihito.
It is though, Akihito thinks, because if he fails at this, what will Asami have to come back to?
He'll fight to the death to protect everything his lover has built.
"Also I have the weekly reports for the clubs when you're ready."
"Could you maybe just give me the highlights?"
Now, Kirishima sits. He sighs heavily into the chair and Akihito can feel his exhaustion in the way his posture crumples. He says nothing about it though. He says nothing besides what needs to be done.
"We're making gains actually, for the first time in... weeks."
Akihito grunts approvingly, gently nudging Asami and hoping Kirishima doesn't notice.
See? I'm doing pretty good.
"Even Dracaena?"
"Even Dracaena. You were right to remove Akiyama."
Akihito closes his eyes, drinks in the affirmation.
"Have you spoken to any of the doctors?"
None of Asami's attending physicians will speak directly to Akihito anymore. This is fine. Kirishima understands him better anyway, tells him exactly what he needs to know without all the pitying looks.
"The situation is the same. Asami-sama is doing well, but they won't reverse the coma until the inflammation has completely receded."
"And is it?"
"Yes. More quickly even than expected."
Every step forward makes his heart ache.
When Akihito doesn't respond, Kirishima gathers the papers in his lap and stands, sliding the chair back into it's original position.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Takaba-san?"
Akihito shakes his head.
"I'll take my leave then. Suoh-san is on duty tonight, if you need anything."
"Okay."
There's a pause, like Kirishima's considering him.
"Make sure you eat."
"You too."
Because Kirishima is losing weight, just like him. Everyone in Asami's inner circle seems to be fading fast without his galvanizing presence. Akihito just hopes they can all beat the clock, keep things going until Asami comes back. He won't even consider the alternative. He will keep this organization on top or he will die trying.
}{
"If you say no," Kirishima paused, features carefully blank, "We sell."
"Sell?"
"Asami-sama named you as his successor. Only you have the power to make decisions regarding the business. He will not allow that power to go to anyone else."
There was no bitterness in his voice, only finality.
"As such, if you choose to forfeit your position, the only other option is to sell off the corporation. Total liquidation of funds would leave you with billions of dollars at your disposal, however it will take some time."
"... My disposal?"
"In the event that you choose to dismantle the organization, all liquidated funds go to you. Asami-sama has made it so that no matter what you choose to do, you'll be taken care of."
Akihito rubbed at his face, hot with fresh tears as he realized the implications of what Kirishima was telling him.
"So I have to either run his fucking company or sell it? Is he insane?"
His breathing picked up as he felt his chest constrict.
This isn't happening
"I... but I don't even..."
"Asami-sama will not be angry."
"What?"
Kirishima looked resigned, the shadows under his eyes prominent.
"He wrote this fully aware that you would most likely choose to liquidate. He knows how you feel about his business. His intention was not to burden you with it, but to give you options."
}{
Akihito falls asleep, for how long he's not sure, but when he wakes his mind is full of numbers: profits, losses, stocks, kickbacks, taxes and bribes. There are endless numbers on endless spreadsheets and if just one column doesn't add up then the whole operation crumbles. He wonders if this is what it's like for Asami, this constant fear of forgetting something, letting some small detail slip through the cracks. He thinks it can't be, because Asami always seems so calm. Maybe he's just used to the stress though, or maybe he's just so good at managing everything that he doesn't have to think about it anymore.
Soon after he wakes a nurse appears and Akihito has to get up so that she can do her work. He greets Suoh before trudging to the cafeteria, waving away the man's offer to bring him dinner. He wants guards on Asami at all times, even when he's there.
There had already been an attempt on Asami's life while he was in the hospital and Akihito will be damned before there's another.
He's never really hungry anymore but if he doesn't eat Kirishima nags him so he's become partial to the little cups of Jello that are probably meant for children. The sugar helps his mood and they're the only thing he can really taste. The bright, artificial colors probably have something to do with it. He gathers up a few and doesn't bother with a tray, just tosses them back like shots.
The staff stare but nobody likes him here anyway so it doesn't really matter.
When he gets back Asami has fresh bandages and pillowcases and an empty catheter bag.
Akihito curls up against him once more, stroking his hand across the plain of his cheek. His scruff is growing in again and he makes a mental note to bring a razor with him tomorrow. He shaves Asami himself now, because the nurses were clumsy and left cuts. It made him want to vomit, but instead he'd yelled at one of them until she cried. He doesn't like himself for that, but he hasn't apologized yet either.
}{
"I'll do it."
"Takaba-san?"
"I'll do it. I'll run things for him."
Kirishima almost, almost looked relieved but there was an underlying wariness, like he didn't think Akihito knew what he was agreeing to.
"Takaba-san... Are you sure that's what you want?"
"It doesn't matter what I want."
"That's not-"
"He's not dead. I'm not going to sell everything he's worked for out from under him 'cause I'm too chicken-shit to run it. If I do that then... then whoever did this wins."
He wasn't crying anymore. Kirishima was almost smiling.
"Right. Well, then."
The secretary produced a key and proceeded to unlock the bottom drawers of Asami's desk, along with a filing cabinet.
"We'll go over what you need to know."
}{
They still don't know who exactly took the shot. Akihito knows that if he knew, he'd be able to give that order. That will be his one exception to the rule. That person can die by his hand and he knows he won't regret it.
But for now all they know is that it was a sniper, someone with extensive training but without the balls to face their target head on.
Akihito looks forward to giving that order.
His cell phone beeps and he checks it immediately, having learned his lesson a million times over. It's Kirishima, like it usually is anymore. He needs permission to deal with some pop-up drug ring in Kabukicho and Akihito texts his assent.
'Whatever Asami would do.'
Then, without conscious thought, Akihito goes to his voicemail.
Asami had left him a couple messages that night, each more agitated than the last, though never any as immature as some of the texts Akihito had sent him. Akihito doesn't even remember what they had been fighting over. He knows it wasn't important.
"Friday, 12:01AM:
'Akihito, I'll be home late, turn on your phone.'
Message skipped. Next message.
Friday, 12:28AM:
'Pick up your damn phone, you know I don't like when you do this.'
Message skipped. Next message.
Friday, 12:41AM:
'You're acting like a child. You may as well go to bed, I won't be home tonight.'
There's a big pause in the middle of this one, like Asami's debating whether or not to continue. Finally:
'I'll see you in the morning. I love you.'
Akihito heaves a shuddering sigh and ends the call, curling up against Asami's side.
He won't look at the last text he sent Asami. He remembers it though. It didn't end in 'I love you'.
"I love you."
He whispers it now into the dark, even though he knows Asami can't hear him. He'll keep saying it though, until he can.
He'll keep fighting.
}{
Thank you so much for reading! Make sure you let me know what you think~
Also I finally settled on an official VF fanfiction blog: .com
AND, if you'd like to read my original fiction (and I hope you do), please visit me either here:
.com
Or here:
u/1032913/
As always, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!
BYE