Title: Jewel Diaries - Sapphire (One Shot)
Author: kyouruhi24
Fandom: Viewfinder
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Asami/Akihito, Fumiko(OC)
Timeline: Takes place years post Pray in the Abyss.
Summary: Precious moments with the Asami Family (in no particular order).
First Installment: Negotiations and Compromises in the Asami Household.
Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Yamane Ayano.
Author's Note: Jewel Diaries is a One-shot series, so expect more to follow. Inspired by sensei's sketch of Asami holding a baby. VOTE AT THE END!
Asami Fumiko had been staring at the same box of pocky for so long that when she closed her eyes, it's still there, swimming inside her eyelids. The shelf holding all her snacks captive was high up on the kitchen wall, just beside the cupboard where she knew her Dada's collection of imported coffees and teas were stored. Quite noticeably, only the area of her designated intent was equipped with a sliding glass panel, separating its contents from the rest of the world, as if taunting her that she could only 'look but never touch' the goods inside.
Throughout the span of her albeit very short life, she knew from her own excursions for snacks in the middle of the night, that the food items, her boxes of pocky in particular, had never been stored this way before. They usually sat on the kitchen counter where her petite self could easily reach.
The young lady, just a few months shy from being seven, had a vague idea of the reason why.
It was punishment.
Apparently, her Daddy was still displeased by the recent stunt she pulled on Uncle Kirishima.
Blue-grey eyes narrowed in memory.
It was not like she did it with malicious intent, anyway. Fumiko honestly thought that a brighter color would bring more joy to her somber Uncle. Of course she apologized in the end at her Daddy's insistence, finding the whole thing odd since her father had always encouraged, if not instigated, most of her pranks. Nevertheless, she did try to be amenable and commented that the usually composed and impeccably dressed man, now sporting bright pink hair did look exceptionally pretty.
Turned out, only her Dada was amused.
At her Daddy's horrified look, she never figured out why.
The morning immediately after the incident, her Daddy declared war.
Now, after a week of being subjected to carrot and celery sticks—secretly dubbed as the 'evil healthy snacks'—she couldn't take it anymore. The unjust and cruel treatment ought to end.
Preferably soon.
She knew her prayers were answered when her Daddy announced at breakfast that he would be gone for three to four days shooting some underground cave in the Philippines—the pictures most probably to be included in his Fall Exhibit.
At first, Fumiko received this with mixed feelings. She's happy that her Daddy gets to travel a lot of places to take pictures. They were always so beautiful and full of life that she could feel as if it had been taken with her present at the breathtaking moment and not a mere bystander watching from the sidelines. Sometimes, she was allowed to join her father if the area was deemed safe or appropriate by her Dada. Such instances were frequent before, but a certain almost-fire incident that Fumiko couldn't remember if caused by her at all, placed a perceptible limit on the places could freely come and go.
The other part of her was sad because she would terribly miss the photographer as the trip in question belonged to the 'Access Denied to Asami Fumiko' category, evident from the way her Dada avoided looking at the blue-grey eyes blinking prettily at him. When it became obvious that her Dada would not be swayed, she ceased her efforts and turned to the conversation being held.
"Four. And three days only," Asami declared, voice booking no argument.
Akihito gaped at him, aghast. "What the f-," then a glance at his daughter, amended, "What the f-fudge, Ryuichi!" Akihito ignored the snort at his deliberate refusal of cursing in front his daughter. "Four guards at a fuc—freaking cave, for what? A measly three days?"
Inside, Akihito fumed. This whole 'watch what you say in front of a child' business was decreasing the blow of his words. Obviously, even after four years, preventing shi—stuff from pouring out his uncouth mouth was a constant struggle.
Fumiko often wondered why her parents even bother censoring themselves when she's around. Well, to be honest, it was only her Daddy who gave censorship a try since her Dada was yet to utter a single bad word. Besides, the effort was futile anyway. She was a smart little girl, hence knew the cuss words like the palm of her hand. Uncle Suoh had helped on some occasions, but for the majority, Fumiko had to consult with Aunt Nuriko since the former tended to clam up upon learning that she heard the word from her parents' bedroom.
Thus, Fumiko might not know what some words meant, but she's clever enough to separate the good from the bad, and even wiser to never use the latter, lest punishment be given like the ones her Daddy received almost every night.
When asked about it one time, Asami simply replied, "Because your Daddy was a very naughty boy."
Pretending to understand, she just nodded and never asked again.
"It's dangerous Akihito."
"Yeah, when one is mental, like you are. "
"It would be dark a—"
"Well, of course, it would be dark. That's what caves do. They make sure to keep out the light!" Apparently, Akihito was aware of the stupidity of his statement, so he made sure it was compensated by his glare.
"Well, supposing this argument—"
"—discussion," Akihito cut in again, irritated at the insinuation. "This is a discussion between two reasonable men. I'm not some wife who argues with her husband." His ire only furthered at the telling twitch of Asami's lips. Mentally, Akihito ordered said lips to go fuck itself.
Unfortunately, his powers of mind control remained nonexistent.
Still smirking and looking thoroughly amused, Asami continued. "Assuming this discussion is actually going somewhere, the point of having guards is to ensure that you don't get ensnared by bats or eaten alive." A pause. "The rebels are also something to be wary about. Last time I heard, they have this nasty habit of snatching journalists on sight—"
"I'm a photographer," Akihito interrupted, tone dry. "A scenic photographer in case you've become senile and forgotten the reason why."
A chuckle. "Touché."
Akihito's glower was murderous.
"Exactly my point, Akihito." Lifting a hand, Asami gestured at Akihito's whole bristling form. "With you in a trance, the chance of you not getting lost is very slim. It's even more pathetic than a kid being lured by a stranger with a piece of candy."
A snort. "Bats? That's what this is all about?" Akihito ignored the deliberate taunt and reined his temper in. Experience taught him that anger would take his position nowhere when dealing with Asami.
The other blonde on the table, however, spoke of her displeasure. "But I'm not like that Dada. I know not to speak to strangers."
Both men turned to the little girl, entertained by the face scrunched up in a frown, as if personally affronted. "Of course not, squirt," Asami acquiesced, patting the flaxen hair freed from their usual braids, his golden eyes noticeably softer around the edges. "You're a good judge of character, unlike most of the children I know." The pointed look directed at the younger father was not missed.
"Good," Fumiko nodded, satisfied, and then carried on munching a slice of broccoli.
Well, Akihito couldn't argue with that. Several kidnapping incidents had been avoided in the past on account of said impeccable discernment. Grudgingly, he had to admit that such bout of 'common sense' was lacking in his DNA, given his track record of getting abducted, the most recent of which involving a Russian Mafia War.
Akihito sometimes entertained the suspicion that Asami fucked the 'surrogate' just for kicks. The uncanny resemblance in personality between the two was alarming.
But then, a look to his blonde and blue-grey eyed daughter couldn't deny that she was definitely his, if her knack for getting into trouble, apart from kidnapping, was not enough indication.
Akihito huffed, acknowledging defeat. But if he's going to lose, he would do so spectacularly. "Fine," he snapped, as if 'no' was an option from the beginning. "Three guards—"
"Akihito." Asami growled.
But the other man persisted, not the least bit intimidated. With three fingers raised, Akihito repeated, "Three guards, Ryuichi. Four days tops. And before you get your boxers in a twist, I'm taking Suoh. God knows that poor man needs time away from you." A narrowed glare to his left, "And from you too, little lady."
The angelic face of his daughter didn't fool him one bit.
Asami's jaw, on the other hand, tightened in contemplation, still not used to making compromises—something that had become essential since they decided to turn the relationship into a permanent arrangement. As if his Akihito had a choice on the matter anyway. The world had no other place for the spirited man other than beside him.
But in the recesses of his mind, whenever he had to eliminate, not simply kill, those who dared harm his family, or had to give up a vice or two because a little girl would cry at the thought of him dying early of smoking, Asami had to wonder more often than not if Akihito fully grasped the meaning of truly belonging to a man like Asami Ryuichi.
It had been years, yet the man owned by him remained a Takaba Akihito despite his underhanded methods of persuasion. On this matter, for reasons unknown, Akihito still refused to give in.
But then, looking at the two most beautiful people who meant the world to him, for someone who abhorred the idea of having children, Asami had not wasted the opportunity to bind Akihito more to him.
'So, he can never leave me again.'
Asami's heart suddenly felt heavy, a familiar lump of warmth creeping on his chest. Asami Fumiko, his wonderful daughter, bright and strong-willed like her father. The little girl might not have come to their life under the best circumstances, but the fact that she was part of Akihito was enough proof that the child would, by right, also be his.
Asami Fumiko, not Takaba Fumiko. Asami's shoulders finally relaxed, finished with the unexpected moment of epiphany.
Akihito might not fully understand his place in Asami's life yet, but he's definitely getting there.
One step at a time.
A sigh. "Fine. You can go with Suoh and two other guards."
Akihito's smile was blinding, having had his way, before morphing into a guilty and worried grimace after something finally occurred to him. "But will you be alright? I don't want to take Suoh away if you really need him. I can just get Akira."
The bout of affection surged up again and Asami didn't bother to resist tilting Akihito's chin and devouring those soft and plump pink lips.
Akihito was visibly flushed, breaths hard and heavy, when they parted. However, the spell was broken at the sound of a familiar giggle.
"You're drooling, Daddy."
Shit.
"You pervert!" he hissed, irritation covering his embarrassment while wiping off said liquid. Fuck. "Must you always do that in front of our child?"
At the unwittingly uttered words, Asami got that strange look again. Alarmed by the possibility of getting molested—because really, Akihito was not an exhibitionist—he stood up and run to the other end of the table, and picked up his duffle bag from the floor. Asami appeared to have the intent to follow.
Akihito did the only thing he knew best.
He panicked.
"Stop! Don't you dare move from there. You don't want me upset if my cameras break due to running away from you."
To his credit, Asami seemed to consider the words before sitting down and crossing those muscular arms atop his chest. An eyebrow arched. "Issuing threats now, Akihito?" Asami had the audacity to look offended. Nevertheless, he dismissed the brush-off with a wave of his hand, already planning some punishment for when the younger man came back from his trip. "And to answer the previous question, you don't have concern yourself with my well-being. I believe my chastity—"
Snort.
"—is safe within the confines of my own home. What use will this have if I can't enjoy a rare week off in here? Maybe do a bit of gardening so I can understand your unusual affinity with flowers, except the obvious reasons of course. Right, squirt?
Fumiko perked up at that for more than the usual reasons. "Right, Dada!" She was happy, no, make that ecstatic. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. Sure, her Dada was already amazing playing the prince in her Fairytale Role Play even if all he did was sit on the designated chair and drink coffee or tea while waiting for Uncle Kirishima to come, watch the situation and decide to end the play with a well-timed phone call. Fumiko often found herself glaring at the offending contraption, wondering if her Uncle was jealous for not being included. But a fairytale only had one princess and one prince. Well, she could always have more princes but Daddy said it was bad to be greedy.
But this, this was beyond awesome. Her Dada, home for a few days without her Daddy's watchful eyes, would serve a brand new purpose.
On the other hand, several images were warring inside Akihito's head, trying to form a mental picture of Asami gardening, but failing miserably. Apparently, it was easier to picture the other man destroying the flowers just for laughs because he was simply that evil. However, he never did picture Asami being a great father, but look at him now, indulging almost all his daughter's whims and dealing with her tantrums better than Akihito could ever do.
Still, Akihito's mind insisted, Fumiko and his garden were two different things. The bastard better not do any damage to his violets and daffodils, or even his asters and daisies. Oh, and Lilibeth too—well, not really, since the cacti was capable of protecting herself, or else Akihito would make sure—
Then finally, comprehension dawned on him.
Akihito turned to both father and daughter, sputtering in disbelief and dread filling his veins. "W-wait, what? You're staying here?"
And everything went downhill from there.
At present, no move had been made to rescue the target from confinement.
For a moment, the little girl entertained the plan of grabbing a stool from the counter and conducting the mission really, really quietly, but the occasional footsteps in the corridor, probably of the housekeeper or worse, Uncle Kirishima, immediately quashed that thought.
Too much risk.
Aside from chances of falling from the chair, which she knew from experience would hurt, if any of her fathers learned the reason of the incident, Fumiko wouldn't put it past them to ban all her favorite snacks from the house.
Forever.
Fumiko should have known her Daddy already planned something sneaky when he didn't even comment about her unusual enthusiasm in sending him away.
Traitor.
Lips thinning in a determined line, Fumiko decided it was time for Plan B.
Uncle Kirishima opened the oak door wearing his trademark penguin suit. Light spilled from behind him, along with the sound of shuffling papers and lovely aroma of brewed coffee. Fumiko looked up and was determined not to stare, but her eyes betrayed her will.
There were still some traces of pink.
She was saved from saying anything potentially tactless by her Dada's concerned voice.
"Anything the matter, squirt?"
Flashing a wide smile at her Uncle who thankfully smiled back, Fumiko skipped to her father's table and held up her arms. "Dada, up."
Body relaxing at the familiar demand, Asami complied, picking the little girl up into his arms. All-too-fragile arms wound themselves around his neck.
"That's the kind of greeting I like," Asami remarked with a pleased smile as he hugged his petite daughter back.
"I love you, Dada," Fumiko added for good measure.
Asami kissed the small nose. "You too, squirt."
"Dada, may I have some snacks?" Fumiko smiled and batted big, blue-grey eyes at her father. That always worked on her Uncle Suoh, and very rarely on her Daddy, but it was worth a try.
"That could be arranged. I think some carrot sticks were left in the kitchen."
To the blonde girl's credit, she managed not to look sour. "I meant the unhealthy kind, Dada."
Asami arched an eyebrow, now wary of the direction the conversation was going. "Is that so?"
"Yup. Like Pocky or skittles or gummy bears. Oh, but I like Pocky best, Dada." The little minx in his arms suggested, beaming happily at him.
"I don't think that's possible, squirt. Your father did mention 'no sweets for you' until he returned." Actually, Akihito told him nothing of the on-going punishment between the two blondes. Asami just noticed his cupboard's new neighbors when he checked for his favorite blend that morning.
Childish the whole thing was, but Asami was sure if he interfered in said petty feud, the results would not redound to his benefit.
"But I have already finished my homework, Dada." Fumiko justified the request with her first good deed of the day, beguiling eyes trained on her father.
Now, both eyebrows were raised, suddenly having the distinct impression that she was waiting for him to buckle under her pressure.
Asami couldn't decide whether to be amused or displeased by her daughter's attempt to manipulate him. On one hand, it was entertaining to see the child using any method her innocent mind conjured up with to get what she desired—a harmless little sweet at the moment. But learning of her influence over others at a young age could be dangerous in the long run. Asami was well-aware that some established organizations had crumbled in the past due to some capricious whim of a charismatic head.
But for the meantime, Asami decided to play along. "Well, that's good. I expected nothing less." His words softened by the ruffling of golden hair.
"I also did some advanced reading."
Now, Asami was truly amused. "I'm sure your tutor will be happy to know that."
"I also fixed my own bed and made sure the room is clean before I left it."
Fumiko was getting exasperated. She was almost done with her 'good deeds' list, but her Dada just couldn't take the hint.
Noting her distress, Asami took pity on his little girl. "Are you asking for compensation, squirt?"
Blue-grey eyes looked at him, terribly confused. "I don't know what that 'copenseion' means, Dada."
"Compensation," he corrected. Sometimes, Asami kept forgetting his daughter was only six, no matter how mature she could be at times. "Are you asking me to reward your efforts today, squirt?"
That she could recognize. "Yes, Dada. I want Pocky." Fumiko agreed sincerely, a smile lighting her face.
Asami could see the hope evident in the eyes before him. She thought she was going to get her way. "And you think you deserve such reward despite the prank you pulled that get you punished in the first place?"
Indeed, he was amused when it happened. Kirishima didn't seem the slightest bit bothered by it, endeared as he was to the kid. But Asami couldn't let his daughter grow up thinking she could always get away with pranks like that, no matter how entertaining.
Fumiko's mouth dropped open. This was not the outcome she had expected at all. She cast a guilty look at her Uncle Kirishima—this time feeling truly sorry.
She shook her head. "I don't think so too, Dada."
Asami nodded, pleased she understood her fault. On a lighter note, he added, "Besides, you don't ask for rewards, squirt." He nipped her nose, causing her to giggle. "Rewards are more satisfying if freely given. Be patient. Just wait for it. Eventually, it will come to you."
Inside the room, only Kirishima knew Asami was no longer talking about some measly snack.
The blonde, on the other hand, didn't understand all the words, but since it came from her Dada, it must be amazing.
But a true Asami that she was, Fumiko didn't give up after the first failure.
Determined, the girl motioned for Asami to put her down. When her father complied, she walked to the chair in front her Dada's table, climbed up said chair slowly but carefully then settled herself on the black cushion that seemed to swallow her petite form.
Asami merely watched in rapt fascination.
"Dada, how about we try what you and Daddy do when you fight, just like this morning." Fumiko scrunched up her face in concentration. "Let's negitate."
In the background, Kirishima coughed.
"You mean 'negotiate.'
Fumiko nodded. "Yes, just what you said."
Asami managed not to smile at the serious eyes regarding him. Deciding to humor his daughter, he sat on the opposite chair.
"Oh?" Asami pretended to think about it, hands folding atop crossed knees, actually ready to give in but opted to prolong his amusement. "Well, what benefit do I get by giving you what you want?"
Fumiko had spent two hours coming to this decision. She refused to give in. If she couldn't have both, then one had to give way to the other. And Fumiko perfectly knew where her priority lies.
"I will stop asking for a pet, Dada."
On the other side of the room, Kirishima turned around to face the wall, his shoulders suspiciously shaking.
In laughter.
At the end of the day, the little princess did get her wish.
"How many do you want?"
Inside her head, Fumiko counted her numbers and settled for something reasonable without sounding greedy. "Five," she declared with a coy smile.
Well, not too greedy.
Asami cringed, having never liked sweet things. "Akihito gives you that much for a snack?"
Asami briefly wondered how all those sweets fit inside such little body.
"Yes, Dada."
Well actually, Daddy only allowed her two boxes of pocky if she had been really, really, behaved.
But her Dada needed not to know that.
"Your daughter is a manipulative little minx." Asami's didn't bother with pleasantries when the other line was answered after five rings.
"Well, 'hello' to you too." Akihito greeted, tone dripping with sarcasm; then, sighed when the words found its meaning inside his muddled head. "What did she do now?"
"What made you think it was something she did?"
" Well, Fumiko was always 'my' daughter whenever she gets into trouble. It's only when she is subdued or acting smart that she's 'your' daughter. Honestly, your hypocrisy is astounding."
Asami chucked. "I stand corrected then. She was 'my' daughter this time. Got me roped in to giving her snacks you kept on the high shelf."
"Why am I not surprised?" the younger man intoned with a snort. "You give in to her most of the time."
Golden eyes danced in amusement at the retort. "Jealous, Akihito? Are you saying I don't concede enough to your whims and fancies?"
"Moron. You know that's not what I'm talking about. Or else, I won't even be here in the first place. Besides, I think the little minx had enough beta carotene to last her childhood. I don't want you taking it out on my ass if she suddenly finds herself with orange skin. "
Asami deemed it wise not to reply.
Silence.
On the tropical island, Akihito sat up on his bed, pillows cushioning his back resting against the headboard. Nowadays, he found it difficult to get comfortable sleeping in hotel beds. It seemed like his body got too spoiled by the outlandish accommodations Asami would get them into if away from the comforts of their own home. He couldn't decide if this new discovery was a good or bad thing to have. Although at present, he should be thankful, else if he slept too comfortably, Akihito could have missed the phone call. God knows what Asami would think or even do if that happened.
The shiver he felt was not entirely due to the cold.
Akihito didn't know if it's because of the sound of the waves from his opened window or the quiet surroundings under the full moon, but the mood made him nostalgic, unbidden tears gathering around his eyelids, threatening to fall at the slightest blink.
'I miss them.'
"Ryuichi," the sudden somber tone in Akihito's voice made the other man dread his next words. Asami wasn't sure if he wanted to do this when his husband—yes, that's what they were, no matter what the papers left unsaid—was far away. Nevertheless, he listened as the solemn hum continued. "…. Fumiko….she's a great girl right?"
Asami blinked, honestly surprised by the question. Akihito had never asked him this before. "Well, the squirt is a little spoiled, but yes, she has a good heart," he answered, remembering Kirishima's words that afternoon and how they rang true.
"I'm glad." And Akihito really was, if not the slightest bit relieved. "I guess, we're not that bad, then. At being parents, I mean."
Ah. So, that's what this was all about. "Getting sappy on me, Akihito?"
"No, no. It's not that." A pause. Then a deep breath. "You think Kou and Naomi are happy, wherever they are?"
"Akihito." Asami warned, no longer liking the conversation. He was not prepared to reminisce the first few months of their lives with Fumiko. Regret had no place in the world he lived in. But there were times when some burdens were just too heavy for one man to carry.
"Just… just humor me this time." The pleading in Akihito's voice felt like daggers being embedded into Asami's heart. "I don't regret anything. God, I'll never regret the past seven years with you. They were amazing, Ryuichi. You were amazing and still are," he trailed off. "But…but have you ever thought—"
"No one can rise from the dead, Akihito," Asami cut in, tone sharp. "This is your reality. It's useless to dwell on wistful thinking."
"I know that!" Akihito snapped, getting incensed by Asami's curt dismissal. "I'm just saying that… well, if they were still alive then Fumiko—"
"Fumiko will still be my daughter," was the firm reply. "You belong to me, Akihito. Everything of yours is mine—including the part of you that gave her life. I won't let anything or anyone stop me from getting hold of those who are rightfully mine."
Asami's declaration was met with silence from the other line. His grip on the phone was so tight that his knuckles had turned white. He would call again if Akihito had hung up. And should the younger man refuse to answer, there was no doubt just who would be purchasing the next ticket going out of Japan.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—the sound of bemused laughter halted his plans.
"Great. Only you can be sweet and creepy at the same time, Ryuichi."
Asami's mind blanked. "I don't do sweet," was the baffled reply.
"Right. Because you do me every time."
Silence.
"I'm surprised. Is that an invitation for phone sex coming from you, Akihito?" Asami teased, life and amusement finally returning to his eyes.
A snort. "Took you long enough, bastard. Talking like this got me all hot and horny. You have to take responsibility."
The older man didn't need to be there to know that Akihito was smiling on the other line. The easy banter comforted and eased his mind. Sometimes, Asami tended to forget that his loverhusbandco-parent had his share of growing up through the years—no longer that twenty-three year old man-child who would bolt and escape at the mere indication of Asami's intention to ownpossesscapture everything of him.
His bodyheartsoul blazing, Asami purred in reply, "Of course. What I give you is your everything, Akihito."
A vow. A promise.
To ownpossess and be ownedpossessed.
Both of them had come far.
They had lived.
They had survived.
And would continue to do so, until the last candle burning, withered with their souls and died out.
END
VOTE: Which do you want to see written first?
1) How Fumiko came to their lives (Angst)
2) First few months with Fumiko (Angst)
3) Akihito's return to Japan (Humor)
Just indicate the number of your choice. =)