Hello,
as you can tell from the title I was in a biblical kind of mood :-) Old testament though so that means *angst* mwahahahahahaha
Hope you enjoy this, it seems a lot more sad than I thought when I sketched it out :/ but yeah, please enjoy. It isn't how it seems from this chapter that's all I'll say.
Thank you for all reads, faves, follows and reviews on my work xxx sorry for any mistakes, I don't own viewfinder.
Warnings: Swearing, Violence. (I have NO idea about drugs and crap like that so literally took the countries mentioned from movies - blame Hollywood! :P)
}xXx{
Derby dress shoes costing probably more than the very land they walk on step into the cold, spacious warehouse. Footsteps equally measured cut into the silence with every new and decisive clip and clop of bespoke, quality materials. Fitting their wearer and the prestige of his status perfectly.
The immaculately suited Asami Ryuichi casually drops his half smoked cigarette to the ground as he walks, the last of the tobacco rich smoke expelling from his full, sinful lips in a long stream. Golden eyes casting around and seeing his business associate for the night, Yamamoto Mifune. Waiting.
He sees the man's face turn up with a small smile of recognition, the two having been dealing back and forth for years according to how well the goods are fairing here and there and adjusting where needed so they had both profited. An amicable and casual partnership that had suited the two territorial, proud men.
He, Kirishima and Suoh finally reach the rooms centre, the two black market dealers acknowledging each other with a curt nod. The couple of guards accompanying each of the men more of a formality than anything after all these years.
"Yamamoto, evening. How's things?"
"Asami…" He sighs. "Never better. You?"
The man also answers in the positive, his hands withdrawing to his trouser pockets as his body takes on a more relaxed pose. As does his Yokohama based counterpart and honestly Asami is surprised so see the man looking so well, knowing the quite significant trouble that had cropped up recently for him after his first foray into the drug trafficking business. Drugs being generally much, much messier and more difficult to deal with than guns anyway.
Asami had shaken his head in exasperation as he read about the sheer nonsense the man had gotten into with not only the Columbians and Peruvians but also the Mexican cartel as well. The trouble though seemingly not making it to Japan yet and that, is why Asami is here.
"I see you've still got your limbs intact. All your fingers accounted for? I'd hate to say it but the drug running business really doesn't suit you…"
Yamamoto laughs bitterly at that, he should have known that episode wouldn't have gotten past his old friend, the man having eyes and ears everywhere, though, it seems that he hasn't heard the latest. His wife and young daughter being taken after an armed cell for the Mexican cartel. Tonatiuh. Had broken into their house, their home. Mere hours ago. Since then he's exhausted every avenue, begged for the millions of yen, smuggling routes and power from acquaintances and enemies alike to beat these bastards into the ground, destroy and conquer and rip them apart limb from limb as nothing. Nothing can console Yamamoto now.
Asami is his last hope.
He's come up utterly empty, these bastards he admits rather begrudgingly are just in a different league altogether and he hadn't any idea where to turn. Doesn't even know anyone who even belongs in that league. Except one. One who he happens to know that will never, ever agree to disrupt the careful balance he maintains over much of the worlds black-market to help Yamamoto get even with the cartel. Yes he would take on an organisation or two after considerable planning and strategising with his endless teams of tactical specialists - but Yamamoto hasn't got time. And he certainly hasn't got the sense.
Nope.
Yamamoto thinks fuck that, these bastards made their choice when they fucked with what's his and he needs to fight back, now. Not reach an agreement, not wait for days while Asami and he try to reach a peaceful truce through negotiation when his family could be killed any moment but rather, obliterate these fuckers completely. Retaliation and vengeance in it's purest form.
The man nods imperceptibly, Asami's attention roused.
Suddenly and as if simply materialising from the shadows, more men flood out of the darkness silently, Asami and his two men vastly out numbered and his eyebrows raise just slightly, a little curious at the turn of events.
"I'm sorry, old friend. But until I get what I want, no one's leaving."
Asami turns his head back to Yamamoto, hands still in his slacks and observing the man with a polite interest. unaffected. He knows he can take these men if necessary, yes they have more bullets, but it does not mean they have the skill. He knows they don't.
"Oh?" The golden eyed man says, weight shifting slightly more onto one foot and regarding the man before him cooly. Kirishima and Suoh as vigilant and unmovable as always. "And, what do you want?"
"Japan."
Asami had up until that point been listening with only half an ear but now he smirks at the word that had been so urgently uttered. The man who can't even handle several small drug running families wants the control of a whole country's black-market? The king pin decides to indulge his friend so he questions further, noting to himself to thank Akihito later for putting him in such a good mood this morning. His inflection though, or lack thereof portrays his scepticism perfectly.
"You want, Japan?"
"You heard me."
"Well that's a tall order. What makes you think I'll hand it over when you've proven both your control and judgement to be rather lacking? They're not qualities one needs to turn a good profit, I assure you."
"Don't fuck with me Asami-"
Yamamoto looks at Asami with tense, hollowed eyes, his jaw betraying the obvious inner turmoil taking place within that once brilliant mind. It's now or never, no going back. He can finally obtain everything now he knows Asami's one true weakness, revel in how serendipitous the discovery had been and just a few short hours ago. He looks back to the dozens of lowlife's he had brought with him, the men all armed to the teeth and it helps calm him, it helps Yamamoto assure himself that he's doing the right thing. That he can do this after all.
"Bring the kid out."
There's some activity amongst the small army and to the left of the room, the message being relayed between them before footsteps withdraw only to return moments later. Clearly dragging something along with them. It's Asami now who's jaw clenches, as do the fists in his pant pockets.
What's this fucker doing?
Two guys round the corner, appearing from behind a stack of supposed coffee crates from South America and the breath in Asami's lungs catch, the air dissipating completely as if caught in a vacuum as his disbelieving eyes take in the sight. His face paling and the crime lord far too shocked to catch his mens' appalled reactions as they also take in the scene.
Akihito.
It's his Akihito being dragged along the floor, unconscious. And bleeding. That noise he had heard which sounded so much like a dead weight, the image before him such an unwelcome one. An impossible one. The boy has two bullet wounds visible through the stained, encrusted denim of his jeans. Both to the legs and what Asami can only assume was to stop the photographer from fleeing a scene of a grizzly kidnapping. One wound, Asami can tell is just a flesh wound, the other though. The other is bleeding steadily, obviously having caught an artery and some time ago. Akihito is already deathly pale, his lips on the edge of blue.
He wills the boy to open his eyes, to give him a sign. Anything. But he doesn't.
He can't even tell if Akihito is breathing or not.
"Yes. Perhaps I should explain, as we are clearly running out of time. When I say Japan, I mean everything you hold within it, I want your empire. Sign it all over to me rightfully now without a fuss and you can be on your way along with the boy here."
Asami's eyes narrow to slits, his body vibrating with rage as the anger and cold blooded fury threatens to break forth as he takes in the familiar but broken, pitiful form on the floor. His legs full of holes. He tells himself to calm, to think and asks himself, how did Yamamoto even find out about Akihito.
"Time's running out Asami, tick tock…what's his life worth to you? I could kill him right here y'know, although…already it's close-!"
Fuck-!
Asami almost exclaims as Yamamoto whips out his gun and fires upon Akihito again suddenly and without warning, causing Akihito to wake with eyes wide and a blood curdling scream, his right thigh so viciously torn into by the bullet burning it feels as if it's on fire. He takes gasping breaths, ones that come out shallow, whimpered and choked as he lays on the cold ground marred by so much of his own blood, warm against his face. Tears stream from his unseeing eyes both due to the relentless throb and the icy cold spears of pain shooting through his legs.
He feels himself growing weaker. Shock making his blood run cold as shivers wrack his body, muscles protesting the lack of blood and oxygen.
What the hell had happened? He was on his way home from a shoot when-something, some men. He was running, blinding pain and then darkness. The same darkness that's calling him to it so sweetly, so temptingly now.
He wishes Asami where here, he wishes he was at home with him now. Could see him now. He wishes he could at least say goodbye.
He heaves a tiny, broken sob as he passes out again. The room silent and observing.
"I reckon you've got thirty minutes, tops. To get him to a hospital. Better make up your mind, old friend."
The man. Asami. Stands there, seething yet for once unprepared. Dare he say shocked. How had Yamamoto pulled this off, why had it come to this? This was supposed to be an amicable and simple trade of information, Yamamoto being his associate for years to the point they had built an understanding between them. He had asked Asami to come by tonight to provide advice, to rid himself of the stolen cargo and deal with his newly made enemies using his friend's power. It was advice Asami was happy to provide, as a friend.
Now he wants to blow this friend's fucking head off.
This should be laughable, unheard of, someone not only daring to challenge Asami on his own turf but to offer him an ultimatum as well. He could draw his gun, vastly outnumbered so he knows it'll be difficult, but he can fight none the less. He has his two best men.
He falters.
Akihito, damn him for being here. Damn Yamamoto for bringing him.
Asami knows he shouldn't matter, not some kid. Not in the scheme of things and not compared to what this alternative is which will be Asami losing everything. The boy is a variable, one that stacks the odds so steeply against him. It's not a position he ever saw himself being in, before Akihito. It's absurd, ludicrous. Asami would normally never even entertain such a thing, normally. His empire for a mere lover. A fuck. He would laugh it off before he ended the rat's miserable little lives, lover be damned but. But here he is -
He is running out of time. No matter how he looks at it, the situation. The facts remain. Akihito is running out of time.
He looks again at Akihito, the small, crumpled figure on the floor and his heart aches for him. They boy had not deserved to be dragged into it again. Into the underworld.
How many times can he let this happen? How is it not in Asami's power to protect him?
'Only I can touch you'
How many times had he said that, yet all they are in the end are clearly, empty words. Proven time and again.
Maybe.
Maybe it is better, kinder. Wiser if Asami does let him die? Here. Now. To let him slip away like this? Perhaps it's better for the both of them. If he lets Akihito go. In the long run.
But fuck.
Fuck it all.
Even as Asami's pragmatic, cold and steely mind whispers that he should just walk away, should cut his ties with this moment and never look back another part of him screams no. Even as he damns himself for this weakness, this paralysing doubt which is only to be found because of Akihito, as are many other things that the boy inspired in him that he loathes but also holds so very dear thanks to that adorable little shit. That knowing, demanding sense that is certain that without Akihito in his life -
Without Akihito in his life.
No. It's not something Asami will accept. Won't even consider.
Hadn't he already decided what Akihito was worth? Hadn't he already fought for the foolish, beautifully endearing photographer again and again with out reason and hadn't it all been worth it?
Yes.
He knows it has, he had known it since that day. That night on the roof of Sion when Akihito had looked him straight in the eye and made his heart race like no other.
He knows he's been caught ever since.
But the silence stretches on, Asami's eyes the only thing betraying just what is happening beneath his cool exterior and Kirishima and Suoh know better than to interrupt, they had received their own shock in seeing what the traitorous Yamamoto had done to an innocent. What he was trying to gain by monopolising a hold on Japan by taking advantage of the only visible chink in the otherwise impenetrable armour. Like Saint George, his spear seeking the one vulnerable scale that lay over the mighty Dragon's heart.
They faithfully await their boss's decision, only having to suffer a few more painful seconds until they get it as finally and with determination as solid as the gaze he levels at Yamamoto, he swallows his pride as Asami Ryuichi, as until now sole ruler of Japan's underworld and relents his power, completely and utterly to Yamamoto Mifune.
His hard earned, fought and won image and reputation shattered in a few mere moments, saving face no longer an option for he. Asami Ryuichi is finally laid bare. A sacrifice made for his Akihito.