Summary: Asami and Takaba meet in a different time. AU. Un-beta'd.
Author's Note: It's been a long time...yeah sorry about that. I've had this chapter done for ages but my beta isn't replying so I'm just going to post on my own from now on if it takes too long. I personally don't think my editing is that terrible anyways. :P. And I was going to go over this again before I posted, but I seriously can't read over this again (read over like a billiion times) so if I made a mistake feel free (its encouraged) to message me. That'd be awesome. Thank you!
A Saddening World
Chapter 2: What a peony...
What a peony...
Demanding to be
measured
By my little fan!
-Issa
Takaba had always woken up early to meet the rising sun. For as long as he could remember he had been wrapped in his mother's arms, watching it ascend to it's lofty throne. His mother had always said that whenever the morning came upon you, you could always forget about the night, no matter how dimming it was.
But he hadn't forgotten.
Last night was fresh in his mind, and he could still feel the bruises on his skin. His bed partner was gone, but the memory remained, engrained in his head.
He could still feel the heat, the sweat from skin on skin, still hear his choaked moans as Asami tortured him to completion, the words whispered in his ear that he'd never forget.
Mine.
"Get up."
Takaba didn't turn around. Maybe if he remained still enough, then the man would think he was still asleep.
He heard laughter behind him. "Don't test my patience. Get. Up."
Nobles, Takaba thought. They think they own everything when they don't know a thing. Who did this man think he was? "Fuck you," Takaba mumbled and turned to his other side.
"Hmmh. Well at least you've admitted you've awake."
Takaba scowled at the man, like he had scowled at Hana when she had ever gone too far, but his stare wasn't very effective as it was on his sister and the man keep his damn smirk.
He was dressed more formally than the last time Takaba had seen him. Now not only did his demeanor give off the air of one who dined nightly with the emperor himself, but he was surely dressed for it. But Takaba didn't want to think about how good Asami looked, he didn't want to think about how heated his own clothes had now gotten, and he sure didn't Asami to know what he did to him. He looked away quickly and regretted soon after because it made him look as guilty as he was.
He looked back, hoping to save his pride and there Asami was staring right at him, unashamedly. He couldn't help the blood that rushed up his face.
That damned smirk grew wider.
Figuring Takaba had been tortured enough for one morning, Asami quicly retrieved his formal speech.
"We leave at noon," he said, acting as though Takaba had no option in the matter. "My men have packed your essentials. You will eat breakfast. You will bathe. Then you will wear the clothes one of my servants leaves you in the bathing room. All before noon and not a moment after. Am I understood?"
If there was one thing Takaba had never taken to, it was authority. He was not going to be bossed aroud by anyone, nor controlled. He knew the man had bought him last night, but he was going to find a way out of this. "Go to hell," Takaba said, "I'm not going to do shit. Just because you think you can fucking order me to-"
"Not think, I can."
Takaba stopped his tirade and just stared. Was this guy stupid? "Look here Asami or whatever the fuck they call you, I don't care how much you paid for me, you cannot own people. At least not own me."
"Oh really?"
Then Takaba was crushed against a warm chest, and there were fingers in his hair and a rough voice in his ear. He moaned.
"Hmmh. You think you don't belong to me? You think you cannot be owned?" He pulled Takaba's hair, and Takaba bit his lip to keep silent from the sensation.
Takaba allowed himself to get lost in the moment, lost in the sounds of Asami's heartbeat.
"You can let you pretty little head think whatever it wants, but remember, Takaba, that your body knows who is really in control", Asami said, before stopping one moment to nip his ear. He received a moan for that, but Asami swallowed it quickly with a smoldering kiss. Afterwards he pulled back. He stood there, staring at him, looking, and Takaba had never felt more throughly owned, though he would never admit it. He ignored the tingling sensation he felt at the idea of it, looked at it as just a simple bodily reaction.
"You. Belong. To me."
Mine.
"Now, stop staring into space and get up."
He didn't try to think about Hana.
He knew it was cowardly, but he just couldn't deal with it. The one person he'd loved...he couldn't do that to himself.
But he couldn't deny the pain of her betrayal.
Even though he knew he should hate her more than anything, he could never find it in himself to even curse her in his head, even though he knew he should want to. He knew that if she had even looked at him once more, if he could see her bright brown eyes full of tears and her mouth full of whispers of regret, he'd take them, he'd take her back. He'd convince himself that selling him was only an act of desperation, that she hadn't wanted or it killed her to do, that she loved him-and he was worthy of it.
He felt sick. He felt used. He felt pathetic knowing that without her he was empty, a vast space, a hollow void.
Wasteland.
He'd given her everything. He'd given up everything for her. He'd become what he had for her sake. Even though he hated it. Even though looking at himself in the mirror made him sick. He...god she-
He heard someone approaching, and he saw the servant deposit robes.
Sensing he was done here, Takaba got out of the water slipping on the clean clothing.
He wouldn't look at leaving here in dread. He could finally leave his old self behind. He could finally pursue the dreams he never thought were at his disposal. He could lose Asami once he reached the capital. He could...start over.
As he left the bathing area, he thought of her once more. Her laughter, her smile, those brown engrossing eyes.
Yes, there was nothing left for him here.
Nothing.
Sitting at an inn desk near the window, Asami gazed at the blossoms that bloomed in the courtyard. He noticed the red flowers an inn worker had snipped for him laying on the table in a glass vase. They must have noticed how much he looked at them.
He had always liked flowers, ever since he was young. He hadn't known much about them, and he doesn't know very much still (he by all means lived by the sword) but even though he couldn't never understand them, he could appreciate them.
He used watch the woman in his village plant her garden, and he'd sneak a peek before chores and watch them in full blossom. He liked to watch her experienced hands gracefully snip each one off its pretty little stem like music, watch her place them skillfully, turn even ragged weeds into a exotic masterpiece. He'd seen paradise assembled in those wrinkled, knowing hands, and sometimes he would close his eyes and dream of fields of those flowers she seemed ever so fond of, those ones that he'd seen in all of her work, and he would lose himself in those simple moments.
Once, He'd been caught once watching her, his dirty feet in the air, hanging from a tall oak.
But he did not fear her. Even at a young age, he had understood that fear was only for the weakest sort of men.
He had looked right back, and she had given him a solid look, and as the young child he'd been he'd reckoned she'd peered into his soul.
The other villagers had always been wary of her because of it. They spoke of her husband and how he perished from her spell on the wedding night. They had concocted stories on why she had killed him and how she had made the body disapear into the night, his soul rising to the stars.
But it all stemmed from the same thing.
They believed in magic and spirits, and they could not overlook the eerieness of her demeanor. And so they left her to herself and she left them to their own devices, their own stories for why she lived all alone.
That day she had not told anyone about the small boy who watched her garden, and she carried on like she hadn't spotted him at all. Left him free to continue.
And then the war began.
They came for them in the dark of the night, the moon full, the ground laden with the snow.
There had been no time for flower watching then.
There had been no time for tales of magic and lore.
There had been no time for anyone to be left to anything, because there wasn't anyone left.
Except him.
The streets had spilled blood, and the dark red hue reminded him of the color of her flowers.
He'd watched the blood of his mother spread like a flame, staining, ruining the white, virgin snow in its path.
He'd cried no tears.
And when the smoke had cleared he'd traveled down that beaten road once more, and for the first and last time he had entered the garden.
She wasn't there.
She had been missing like the others, and he had cried his eyes out, cried for her like he'd cried for no other, weeped for her while his mother's body lay frozen and lifeless near the road. He's shed tears for someone he'd barely known, for a body that wasn't there, for a person he'd never see again, no matter how much he wished it, yearned for it.
He'd put those beloved flowers near the oak tree and for hours it seemed he had laid there enchanted, stuck in the moving pictures of tradgedy.
He'd sat there for hours, in awe of them, and it was almost sickly, disturbing how he looked at them, with a morbid fascination.
Flowers were such delicate things. They were full of life and blazed in color.
They were so easily broken, too quickly crushed. Weak.
He hated them.
And yet sometimes when he was by himself, and his chambers were cloaked in the shadows of night, sometimes when he'd close his eyes for a moment and just-breathed, the stench of thick smoke gracing his nose, inhaling, losing himself, falling; sometimes when he dropped into a place he was sure he'd left, deep in the recesses of mind there lay a flicker of thought that in the right moment he could believe.
Those flowers had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"Message from the capital sir."
And as quick as the thought had come, as it always had, it slivered into nothingness once more and lost its vibrant hue.
"Read it," he said.
The soldier, a messenger Asami was familiar with, seems almost uncomfortable.
Bad news was a nuisance.
"It seems some of Feilong's armies have gone astray and found themselves near the eastern waterport." He fiddled with his cap in his hands, waiting for Asami's reply.
Hmm. The soldier didn't seen very convinced, and neither did Asami. Feilong was up to something.
"Have these soldiers been aprehended?"
Even though he was sure that the royal army was able to take care of something as trivial as that without his help, sometimes he couldn't really be sure. Most of the military leaders in the palace with foolish scholars who had never even laid one finger on a sword.
"Yes, sir. The emperor ordered it himself."
If so then what does he need me for?, Asami thought. "Is there a reason why my presence is needed?"
"Uhhh...no sir", the soldier swallowed, as though the words he was about to speak would make him sick. "He just asked that General Asami be warned of Feilong."
Asami smiled. "Well tell the Emperor I agree. I've never trusted Feilong with shit."
"I will...sir."
"Good."
As Asami sat contemplating this new development, thoughts of oaks and blossoms went into smoke.
"Can you ride?"
"Of course", Takaba answered. Every boy in the village, even the girls learned to at a young age. He may not be a warrior or a farmer, but riding a horse was an unspoken law in his small village.
The soldier shrugged and said no more. If the boys said he could ride, then he could ride. There was no point in arguing it. And to be honest, he had not wanted to. He had been traveling with Asami for months now, and he had a young son and a wife at the capital. He was looking forward to returning to them.
So without argument, he noiselessly gave Takaba the rein of a mare they'd gotten here while at the inn.
"She's yours", he said. "You can even keep her when you reach the capital. Might keep you company."
Takaba didn't respond. He just took the reins.
He hoped to not stay long wherever Asami was taking him. He had friends in the capital, and while he had not seem them in a long time, he hoped maybe they'd help him get out of this unwanted predicament.
But she was a pretty horse though. A warm, deep brown. She was getting rather old, but she could keep a good pace.
Realizing that Takaba had not been lying when he said he could properly ride a horse, the soldier smiled. "So you weren't lying."
Takaba huffed at that comment, and the soldier let out a hearty laugh. "Don't get your panties in a bunch! That was a compliment."
Takaba squinted his eyes, like a raccoon unsure if he was entering a hunting trap.
The soldier chuckled a bit more, than sighed. "The name is Kou." He held out his hand.
Takaba took it. "Takaba."
In the complex world of the capital, he'd need all the friends he could get.
Takaba took one good look once more at the village of his childhood. He gazed one last time at the fields, and he noticed the children playing by the river, the girls twisting blossoms into their hair.
He'd done this before.
He'd never thought he'd come back after he left for Shanghai, but Fate was the worst trickster.
Yet this felt different than the first time.
He knew he was never coming back.
So he soaked in the sun, and breathed in the smoke from a cooking fire close by, desperately trying to remember everything and hold it close, so even in the darkest moments he'd still have a bit of the morning sun.
He hadn't seen his parent's burial ground and he hadn't wanted to.
He didn't want them to see him like this. He didn't want to say his last goodbyes as what he was.
Owned.
He'd rather disappear without a word, as though he had never existed at all. So he would never have to think about how his mother would weep for him, or how his father would give him that look of utmost disappointment.
They didn't need that. And neither did he.
"Takaba?"
He didn't know what possessed him to come here, and he knew he wasn't wanted, but he couldn't let her end things like this. It would kill him. It already had.
"Hana," he said, a wee bit uncertain. She was looking at him intensely and he wavered under her harsh gaze. But he didn't mind it. It wasn't that cold, distant look she'd given him before. This one was...confused.
"Why?" she said, her face in a tight scowl, the look she got when she was thinking really hard or when she was too astonished to speak. "Why are you here?"
Because I had to, he thought. "I just couldn't understand-"
"That I betrayed you?" Hana interrupted. "Sold you to a whore house? Left you there? That needs an answer?"
"Yes. Yes it does," Takaba answered. He had been clammy and the words had been stuck helplessly in his throat, but her interrogation seemed to give him the motive to speak, and those stuck words were now pouring from his throat.
She looked at him for a long time, as though she was looking for an escape but he stood firm.
After those long silent moments where they stand just looking at each-other, her body position relaxed and she sighed in defeat.
"Because I..."
He wasn't looking at her, but he could hear her.
He could here it in her voice, and he lost himself in it, he drowned himself in memories of the flowers in her hair, the wicked laughter-it was all there, all real, like a forgotten memory bursting to the forefront.
He wasn't looking at her, but he could hear her.
He knew who this was.
"...I had to Akihito."
And in four words his world shattered.
"Why?" he croaked.
He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he could feel the moistness in his eyes, the trembling of his voice.
"Why?" he said once more, and he wasn't sure who he was talking to anymore, whether it was the gods or it was Hana but he had to know.
He'd asked that question a hundred times after that night, but he still couldn't think of answer. Had he been a terrible brother? Did she do it because she needed money? Did her fiancé force her, lie to her?
Had she ever cared at all?
He couldn't stand it. Not knowing. And he knew he couldn't live with it, leave her without knowing why she had betrayed him like she had.
He deserved at least that.
He did.
He stumbled back like a drunk, no longer support himself. He was screaming at himself to get it together but what could he do?
He was just a pile of broken pieces.
She watched him fall apart, but she didn't try to rescue what was left, as if she thought he wasn't worth saving. She sat there, looking at him making a fool of himself, looking at him while he seemed so weak, so utterly helpless. He felt humiliated, like a fool, and she just kept staring.
She said nothing.
He hadn't expected her to really. He had just hoped that maybe-but he'd been wrong. He'd been wrong about everything. He wasn't even sure who she was anymore.
A ghost of his sister.
"Lets go."
As soon as the words were spoken, it was silent, except for sound of clamoring horses. Asami lead the pack, and he carried such a regal bearing that sometimes Takaba swore he was looking at the emperor. A bit of him hoped that Asami would look his way, hoped he could be beside him, but he put that thought quickly to rest.
If he lost himself in him, there would be no return.
Takaba broke out of his thought and held onto his reins tightly. Even though she had seen plenty of summers, the mare was enthusiastic, and Takaba reckoned she understood she was going to go home. He couldn't help but envy her.
He was losing all he had.
"Ow!" he shouted. Takaba turned around sharply, seeking his assailant.
"Got your head stuck in clouds?"
Takaba smiled, but he looked distant, lost in his own little world. "Maybe." he answered.
Kou ignored his aloofness and patted him on the back. "You're going to love the capital, Takaba. It's simply gorgeous. And you have to meet my family. My wife would love you."
"Really?" Takaba answered with a smile. "I'd really like that."
Kou grinned.
"But I'd warn you to be careful though, Kou", Takaba joked. "My heart-stopping good looks have dazed a lady or two-Hey!"
Kou had slapped him harshly on the back and sped up, moving past him.
"Hey! Get back here!" he said, clamoring to reach the soldier.
Leaving the only home he'd ever known.
It was dark when they reached the capital.
Takaba was exhausted. They had been on the path for days, with barely any rest, and he longed for a place to sleep. Even though it was tough, it had been enjoyable. Kou had made sure of that. He could not remember a moment where he hadn't been overtaken by laughter. And he needed that. Especially with what had happened in the last few days, with what would happen in the near future.
He hadn't spoken with Asami the entire trip, and it worried him. Why wouldn't it? The man who bought him, claimed he owned him, after one night, hadn't given him a passing glance.
At least not outwardly.
Sometimes, when Asami thought he wasn't looking, the man would just stare at him, so intensely that it unnerved him, and he feared him fall to pieces under his gaze. Sometimes, when it was dark, and it appeared as though he was fast asleep, he could feel someone watching him, and he didn't need to see that face to know who it was. It was Asami. It had to be. But it led him again to that same question.
If I am yours, then why do you not claim me?
It wasn't as though he wanted to be. Claimed or owned. It was just, it just worried him. If he lost the support of Asami or in some ways had angered him, he could have put himself in great danger. Danger, Takaba surmised, he was unable to afford.
As they approached the gate to the city, he casted his thoughts aside, waiting for the gates to unfold.
It was as beautiful as Kou had described it, and more so. Tall structures loomed over the large masses. Priceless treasures and exotic spices filled the market plaza. Takaba watched avidly as a merchant showed a large red ruby to a buyer, swearing it came off the royal scepter of royalty in the West. He had to dodge a couple of children who were scurrying through the streets, laughing heartily. There was dancing in the marketplace, and an exotic, voluptuous woman swayed to the slow melodic sound of a flute, handfuls of gold coins glittering in the air as they landed at her feet. It was too much to take in at once, and he had to close his eyes and just breathe it all in, the sights, the smells, the voices. He'd missed this, the warmth of a city. He never thought he'd have a chance to see all of this again.
When he opened his eyes, he swore Asami had been smirking at him, but his face was so cool and impassioned that Takaba could almost swear he imagined the entire thing.
After they had journeyed through the market, they stopped to pay their respects at the Temple.
It was a quiet encounter and people kept to themselves as they respects to the lost. The war had been devastating, and nearly everyone had lost someone. Takaba's father had lost his brother. Kou had lost his mother. One of the officers had lost his only son.
Blocking out those around him, Takaba closed his eyes once more, allowing the incense to enter him deep, and as he exhaled he opened them, watching the smoke reach the sky. He felt lifted, more relaxed than he had for a long time. Memories of his mother, his family, it didn't hurt as much anymore. It was though slowly but surely, he was being mended on the inside.
In the corner of his eye, he saw even Asami lay down some red flowers.
After some moments at the Temple which felt like they'd never end, they finally made it to the heart of the city, the palace.
Though Takaba had never seen it before, he'd recited poems that professed its glory.
He used to laugh as they'd said even the gods themselves envied the home of the mighty emperor, or how when the birds sang, they sang of its magnificent splendor.
They were all wrong.
It was more.
Beauty such as this couldn't be put into words, no matter how gifted the writer. It was indescribable how breath-taking the palace was.
"No wonder they say it is the stairway to the heavens," Takaba murmured to Kou, still caught up gazing at its walls.
Like hallowed ground.
Kou shrugged, but he did not disagree.
At the sound of Asami's call, the regiment stopped, allowing their commander to ride back to face his men.
"Good job, men," Asami told his soldiers. "The northern cities have been reinforced. Itou's cooperation has been confirmed. It's been a long journey, and I know that all of you are tired and hungry. I cannot promise you this will be the last campaign, but rest assured that this one has come to an end. So now, I bid you all to go back to your families in peace."
The men interrupted him to cheer and applaud.
Asami betrayed his stoic demeanor with a small smirk which was quickly hidden. "Carry on."
Takaba was trying to pay attention but Kou could not seem to keep off of him, making Takaba promise he'd see his family, telling him how excited he was to show him his little boy.
He was too occupied to notice Asami staring at him, with mild slight of disdain, looking at the encounter. "You there."
Heads turned around, soldiers wondering if their commander had called them.
Asami made himself more clear. "You there. By the boy."
"Whuh?" Kou sputtered.
Takaba watched with amusement how his friend's back straightened and he gave Asami his full attention. "Uh I mean 'Yes m'am!'" His address of his commanding officer as a women earned him some snickers from the crowd and Kou paled in horror at his error. "Sorry about that! I meant—I mean I mean 'Yes sir!""
If Asami had been paying some attention to Kou's reaction, he would have probably chuckled. Or more likely, he would have killed him on the spot for his mistake. Fortunately for Kou and unfortunately for Takaba, he hadn't given the soldier a passing glance. Asami was looking straight at him, clandestine no longer, fully taking him in with his eyes. Not breaking his gaze he told Kou, "Take the boy to his new quarters. He'll need clothing. The banquet is tonight."
"Banquet?" Takaba spoke up. "No one said anything about a banquet!"
But Asami only smiled and made his exit.
Asami was walking the corridors, heading towards his personal chambers when he got the message.
"The emperor sir," the soldier said. "He wishes to see you."
"Can it wait?" Asami asked. "Tell him I've had a long journey and I wish to rest, especially with the banquet taking place tonight."
The soldier gulped a bit, loathe to say his next words. "That cannot be arranged sir. The emperor has informed me that he requires your presence immediately."
The soldier was right to be fearful of Asami's reaction to that. He was teeming with anger, and he struggled to control it, struggled to keep his sword in his sheath and not slaughter the apprehensive messenger. He wasn't trying to make excuses. He had been traveling for months now, and he was weary. He was not ready to play a cat and mouse game with the foolish politicians who crawled at the emperor's feet. He did not want to stand there as they looked at him, judged him and his lineage. In the eyes of the palace elite, he knew he'd always be a stranger.
But Asami had for many years, and their harsh treatment of him had made him strong. He would not crumble now. He would do as he always had. Endure.
"Very well," Asami said. As he stormed off towards the throne room, the soldier scurried to keep up with him.
"Right this way sir," the soldier said, motioning and opening the door towards the emperor.
Asami ignored him and walked straight in.
If one thought the outside the palace was extravagant and well adorned, they had never seen the inside of the throne room. The entire space glittered in gold. Silk sheets and pretty whores draped the room, the emperor.
It was a masterpiece of decadence.
"Ryuuchi," a voice said.
He was an old man, that was undeniable, but he had aged well. He had grayed, and his face was solid. He was skinny, but he was firm, and his body spoke of once great power and strength.
This was the man who united the East.
"Sire," Asami said as he bowed to the voice, the man on the throne.
A twitch of the emperor's finger told him he was pleased with his humility, and he allowed himself to rise.
The emperor smiled.
He had been waiting for him. They all had. The entire court was seated, waiting for Asami's return. They whispered amongst themselves, avoiding his eyes. Worthless, all of them. Foolish gossipers, irritating sychophants, and vulgar hedonists.
All a waste.
"My favorite soldier, my prized general, my right hand," the emperor bellowed, mulling the court into silence. "Does there lay a man of greater courage, of noble bearing, of stauncher humility?" he continued. "Who else could rein in these fickle lands, put such fear into all those who beheld him? And today, I want all present to see how truly wonderful you are, how I trust you more than my own."
Then the court broke their silence, eating apart the new information. He saw a few envious glances come his direction. He knew people who would kill to have this attention from one of the most powerful men in the world, women who would fall on their knees to catch his eye.
"I am honored by your praise sire." Asami said simply.
The emperor beamed. "I'm overjoyed Ryuuichi, overjoyed. Come, walk with me to my chambers so we may talk in peace."
He followed.
"Sire—"
"Enough Ryuuichi. Feilong is another matter to be addressed at a later time."
He questioned the emperor's judgement, but he obeyed. "Yes sire."
The emperor laughed turning from the balcony. "You are so distrustful, General. But still, I won't deny he is a problem."
He looked Asami in the eyes.
"But he's my blood. My only son. And for that reason he must have some of my trust."
"Yes sire." Asami understood.
No matter what Feilong did in his past time, he was still the next in line for emperor. He could not relate to that feeling, because his family had never employed the same rules for him but he could respect them. The emperor was a good father.
If only Feilong was a good son.
The emperor turned to the balcony, gazing below at the greenery.
"I'd never realized how beautiful this garden was."
Asami stayed silent.
"Do you know, that my late wife, this was the only place where she was truly happy? I was too busy gaining conquests, starting campaigns, seizing entire countries on horseback that I left her and Feilong alone in the palace. And this was all she had, this garden and her son."
"When she passed into the next world—" the emperor hesitated, the memory itself hurting him— "I made a promise that I'd retain this garden, I'd retain and take care of the happiness I was never able to give her." He clutched the railing tightly. "And that's why—that's why I've yet to burn this garden to the ground."
He recognized that feeling of pure anguish, of utter loss. Without wanting to, Asami remembered the small boy crying in the snow, bloody fingers clutching redder flowers. When you had little to love, when what you'd loved was lost, it changed you for the worst. You turn empty.
The hollowness never heals.
The room was still and though words were left unsaid, they let silence speak the words of comfort they never be able to say.
"Ryuuichi." And the sudden peace that had come over the room was quickly hushed and broken.
"Yes sire?" Asami answered.
"I heard you found an entertainer from your travels. A musician."
He had not expected the news to travel so fast. But the people of the capital thrived on gossip.
He didn't like it.
He did not know yet what he was doing with the boy, but the idea of showing him to the world irked him.
Takaba belonged to him alone.
"Yes sire."
The emperor nodded in accordance. "You are a man of little words, Ryuuichi. But I am curious to see this little flower. Make sure he plays for me tonight."
"Yes sire."
The emperor chuckled to himself. "Maybe its music I need to forget this madness."
But when he turned around to ask Asami if he agreed, he realized the man already left the chambers.