Firstly, thanks for all of you who have read, reviewed, Favorited, subscribed, altered, etc., it makes me extremely happy. You're all very kind readers, and I hope I can repay you with the content in my stories. This is not the final chapter, as much as I wanted it to be, it was lagging badly, so I decided to end it here and update it later on.
Please review, even if it's just to say "good", please do so. I really really love to hear what people have to say, I really do, it's helpful to me and makes me happy, so please do that.
There are a lot of unanswered questions in this chapter, which is partly why I made it the second to last chapter. It would've taken far to long, and by the time you guys finished it, you would've been confused or dazed. So, I did this for you and for myself.
I apologize for any grammatical/spelling errors in advance, and anything else that you may be upset about. Again, if you fave, subscribe, alert, etc., please throw in an additional review, it'll make my day.
Hope you enjoy the story, and I'll try to update it ASAP.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Finder Series
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
He felt trapped in a chest of agony and fire, all possible routes of escape and freedom cruelly locked tightly away.
Darkness befell him, pressure held him down and objects prodded deep into his body.
Pain radiated through him in a throbbing manor, reaching each and every cell of his body, straining them till the could bear no more.
The objects invaded him once again, cutting, scraping and tearing at his organs, rearranging them and pulling at them.
Than the numbness overcame him and the pain eased away, only to be replaced by an unnecessary weight pressing atop of his body.
He tried to move, tried to wriggle out of his mental prison, but he did this to no avail. The pressure wouldn't let up at all.
On the brightside, at least the pain had resided_and, he could breath again.
He inhaled sharply through his nose, and exhaled roughly.
His throat was uncomfortably dry, and he swallowed a painful swallow in an attempt to moisturize it.
It felt like lava, burning, sticky, molten lava. And all at once, the searing substance slowly made its way down Takaba's throat.
Through his closed eyelids, he could feel tears forming as the pain escalated.
Time was obviously working against him, for he believed that the period in which his numbing medicine took effect was beginning to wear off.
The pain began to return, but only on a subtle level.
Then his head felt heavy, heavier than before. His conscience began to fade, and he felt himself drifting into sleep.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Where am I? His senses returned to him, though his movements were lagging. He felt loose and slimey, like a spaghetti noodle.
He could feel his back resting against soft fabric, could feel a mask pressed securely to his face and wrapped tightly around his head. A blanket lay atop of him, thick and heavy, the fabric wrapped his body in a cocoon of warmth.
So he was in a hospital, at least that's what he gained from his surroundings. No more Asami, no more Sudoh.
Sudoh...he hated him with a burning passion, he hated him so much...and as for Asami. Just the thought of the name sickened him...he felt betrayed, all trust that he held before was gone, and no excuse from the older man was going to fix that.
None.
He sighed, and could feel the cold liquid from the his mask fall into his face as he did so. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but any action that involved deep thinking resulted in a sharp pounding ache in his head.
Speaking of his head, it felt hazy, very hazy. Not to mention, full of a ton of led.
Suddenly, a new sensation presented itself to him. Muffled and distant, almost quieter than a buzzing bee, Takaba began to hear voices.
It didn't help that his ears felt full of cotton swabs, but he worked with what he could.
"His liver...failed…" This voice was new to him and sounded like it belonged to a middle aged man who knew what he was talking about, "acetaminophen...too much...lack…oxygen."
The words of the man he assumed to be his doctor were choppy and mismatched, thus, making things hard for him to comprehend, but he'd learned what he needed to know.
Liver failure from the overdose, check. Lack of oxygen from the time he'd spent suffocating, check.
Now what were the side-effects, and who exactly was this man spilling all of Takaba's information too. Not to mention, how did he even end up in the hospital? Surely Asami didn't bring him here, so who did?
Had his friends? Did they not plan a get together on New Years Eve. Did that mean….so did that mean they saw him after Sudoh's men had finished him.
Shame and embarrassment flooded him at the thought of his friends seeing him in such a state. What would they think of him when they saw him again...how would they treat him?
Damn Asami and Sudoh, Takaba hated them more than anything for this.
But things continued to get worse.
"Paralysis!?" The voice was as clear as day, and Takaba could hear the tone which it took.
He was...paralyzed? Surely that wasn't the case, Takaba couldn't be paralyzed. He was a photographer for goodness sake! He had to use his body to move around, to run, to get to high places_Paralysis meant goodbye to Takaba being Takaba.
Move...move...move! Ignoring the growing headache, he inwardly screamed, willing his muscles to move the best they could.
But nothing happened, so he tried again and still, nothing.
He tried again and again and again, his breathing increased drastically_So drastically that the machines around him began to beat rapidly as they charted his heart rate.
He forced his eyes open, and squinted them as the brightness of the room assaulted his eyes. His tears began to fall freely as he continued to try and move his useless limbs.
Nothing...nothing was happening_Nothing was moving.
A strangled sob erupted from his throat as he frantically looked around for the two men in the room.
Instantly, they were above him, calling his name and calming him down.
He immediately recognized one of them.
Neatly combed red hair fell to the side of the older man's face as he loomed above Takaba, his expression bore a troubling, almost pitying gaze which Takaba could see clearly through the man's large glasses.
"D... …" he croaked a long and pitiful croak as he looked up into his father's eyes, tears rolling off the side of his cheek, "D...addy!"
He was happier now, despite his situation, despite the fact that he would no longer be able to move_the sight of his father ignited a feeling of protection inside of his heart.
Thank God this wasn't Asami standing above him, thank God it was no one affiliated with the underworld.
Tears, joyous tears continued to roll down his pale cheek at the sight of the man above him. Nineteen years ago, this man had saved him from the cruel orphanages in his home town, thus making Takaba his own son. Now he did it again, and Takaba hated that his arms, arms he would have used to hug his father, were completely useless now.
But his dad made up for that, slowly bending down and scooping his fragile son into his arms the best way he could without hurting him.
"It's okay Takaba," his dad whispered sweetly to his sobbing son, "It's over...it's over now.."
And Takaba prayed_prayed harder than he ever had before, that this, that Asami and everything involved with the man truly was over.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Mr. Takaba had nine children.
Two biologically, a girl and a boy, and the rest from different parts of the world. As a young boy growing up in Japan, a boy growing up with nothing, he never dreamed of fathering so many beautiful souls.
It was too expensive, too risky, too much of a guilt trip. Call his youthful self selfish, but at the time, he didn't care.
He'd rather be aborted than have to live the childhood he did, and he wished the same for any other child that was conceived in such poverty. Why bring a child into the world when you couldn't care for it? It's a waste of your time and theirs.
He had to steal for a living, and he got into frequent fights. School was the only thing he was dedicated to. it was his ticket out of the slums.
But the fighting never ceased there either.
Due to some strange genetic mutation, his hair was red, out of his entire Japanese class full of dark headed children, his hair was bright red. Was that even possible? He was asian, and neither of his deadbeat sibling had red hair either.
He stood out like a match. A bright burning match.
Needles to say, he took the phrase "surviving school" literary.
After his surviving paid off, he finally got a scholarship out of the Japanese slums and to one of the finest high schools in America, and happily, he renounced his Japanese citizenship and later enlisted into the army.
He was sent all over the world, and for once, saw that others had it worse than he did, that children had it worse than he did_And yet, they made it through the day by smiling. They laughed and played, despite their ailments, their worries, and their war ridden countries, they still laughed and played, as any child should.
So yes, Mr. Takaba had experienced the worse of the worse in Japan during his childhood, but at least he wasn't constantly walking amongst suicide bombers and rapist.
He felt stupid for ever complaining about his childhood_He felt ashamed, so ashamed, that during his time in the army, he fell into depression.
How on earth could he have complained about his life in the slums when these dying children, children who lived in hell every day, still smiled despite their living conditions?
Embarrassed, he turned to the only thing that could rid of his mind and body of such a heavy weight.
Work and alcohol. He became addicted to both, they became his sole reason for living.
And then it caught up with him, his addiction. His peers could see it, and they worried for him.
He was in good standings with the US military, a good soldier and so on, so his deterioration was noticeable.
His vibrant red hair was now a rusty brown, his eyes were sunken and blank, his skin was pale and pasty, and his normally muscular build was thinning significantly.
His job was killing him, killing him slowly and painfully.
His superiors were quick to put him on paid leave in order maintain his health, and they went as far as to send him to a resort in Hawaii for a calming vacation.
He drank there too.
However, the only difference was that he didn't have to work, and that there, he met his future wife.
He was dick and she was a bitch, at least that's what he concluded when he'd awoken with a hangover after she punched him in the face for lifting her skirt.
She was a hula dancer, she performed in the bar he stopped at the night before.
He couldn't help it, he was drunk, she was pretty, and she only wore straw for a skirt. She was irresistible.
She looked for him after that, she wanted to apologize for her behavior_Though she believed he deserved every bit of it. Needless to say, when she found him, they talked...they talked for hours.
As a former army girl herself (who would've known?), she understood some of what he was going through, though not to the same degree he did.
And through hours and hours of talking, through hours and hours of just being there for him and listening to him, she became his best friend, and he became her's.
He left the army a little while after his vacation, he ate a little more, spent a while and rehab, and as soon as he got out, proposed to the Hawaiian Hula dancer.
Thus, Mrs. Takaba was born, followed by two more Takabas a little while later.
And, it wasn't until Mr. Takaba had two children of his own did his mind wander back to his days in the Japanese slums and the war ridden towns he'd visited as a soldier.
His children were so happy, he was so happy.
Why not give the same change to other kids?
Call it an obsession, but like a mad man, he explained his spontaneous idea of adoption to his wife and kids.
They were just as crazy about the idea as him, besides, they had the money...so why not?
So it began.
Adoption was no easy task though, there was paperwork, patience, heartbreak and dedication required from both parties.
But after a while, waiting periods expired, paperwork was completed, and before he knew it, over periods of time, there were seven other children running through his home.
Seven souls, seven beautiful souls_of course he counted his own two biological children and his wife, so make it ten_ten lives that all belonged to him.
He treasured their lives more than he treasured his own, and anyone who so much as thought of hurting any of his children (or his wife) would face his fury.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
So therefore, it didn't bother him too much when he mentally plotted the death of the man who had hurt his son. He had no idea who this man was or why he did what he did. And as a parent, that terrified Mr. Takaba more than anything.
Questions surged through his mind like a swarm of angry bees. Would this man act again? Why did he even harm Takaba in the first place? Would he be out for blood come the second time around?
For this very reason, he paid the hospital staff to keep quiet about his son's condition. He may not know whom this criminal was, but he knew whom he wasn't. Anyone who wasn't apart of their small entourage at the moment would not be admitted into his son's hospital room. No one.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
Three days ago, he'd gotten a frantic call from his other son, Cho, about an accident that had happened with Akihito. He was always worrying for Akihito, his job as a photographer jeopardize his life, and frankly, he didn't believe his son even cared.
Countless times, Akihito had called his father from Japan, claiming that he got the "biggest scoop" or "was on the lead" of some big secret he probably had no business finding out about.
Mr. Takaba reminded Akihito, always reminded Akihito to be safe, to stay out of the way of the "Big Dogs", but that boy never listened. Never.
And now he was suffering for it, not just Akihito, but Mr. Takaba as well.
His heart was made of ten pieces, and as he stood in the hospital room, watching his son struggle to live, he felt one of the pieces breaking.
The doctor told him what he needed to hear, and as heart wrenching as the diagnosis was, he was glad he had Akihito's life in his hands again.
He'd already planned his son's new life away from Japan. Akihito was going to need full time care afterwards, and Mr. Takaba prefered that his son be cared for outside of Tokyo.
And to hear the word "Daddy" for the first time in forever...it nearly brought tears to Mr. Takaba's eyes.
His son called out to him, his fragile son. And he'd protect him with his life. Since the asshole who'd ruined Takaba was nowhere to be found, he'd move Takaba out of harms way, it was the least he could do.
"Recovery is possible, but it would take a while, years perhaps," the two had stepped out of the room after Takaba drifted off into sleep again, the doctor's monotonous tone pulled him out of his mental rant, and Mr. Takaba found himself anxiously awaiting the seemingly emotionless man's report, "...as far his his paralysis goes, in a week or so, he should regain the movement from his waist and up, but below that, no...his liver is damaged , like I told you before, so i'll be sending you off with medication for that...I've checked with the doctor you've selected to treat him in America, he has the same medication that I do, so you'll need to talk to him about refills...oh, yes, wheelchair_He'll need a wheelchair…"
The conversation never let up from it's gloomy attitude, not that Mr. Takaba expected it to though.
He was just glad that Akihito was still alive...even if just barely.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"You can come in."
Anxiously, Kou's foot vibrated on the fabricated floor of the waiting room. Nervously, he chewed his bottom lip an in attempt to dissuade his thoughts from the inevitable. Bruised and mangled, Takaba's wounded body had been the last thing Kou had seen of his friend in three days. The mere image of Takaba's battered form foretold nothing but death and peril on the photographer's part, and all negative emotions associated with this foreboding tale affected Kou head on.
Three days ago, they'd arrived at this hospital after the ambulance had rushed the photographer , who was in critical condition, to their emergency room.
He'd fallen into a coma before they even reached the building, and all the while, Kou and the others grabbed what they could from Takaba's apartment and followed the ambulance.
Later that day, the police skimmed the place for fingerprints, got what little evidence they could, and left.
Suspiciously, on the same day, Takaba's apartment complex had gone ablaze. As delicate as they'd been with Takaba's case earlier that New Year's day, that'd been even more leery when providing them with foggy details regarding the sudden fire. Kou suspected that they'd been paid to keep their mouths shut.
However, Takaba would not be returning to his apartment. As soon as they arrived at the hospital, Cho called his father in order to let him know what had happened. Mr. Takaba's job had required his presence in Asia, and thankfully, his assignment was over.
He'd already acquired a passport for Takaba on his way to Tokyo, as well as proper moving arrangements out of Japan. Though Kou was saddened by his friends impending departure, as long as Takaba was safe in the long run, he'd be more than happy with any suggestion to move him.
Three days dragged along like a snail, leaving confusion and denial in its wake.
Surgeries upon surgeries had been done to Takaba. His liver was failing, his brain was dying_and countless times, Kou had seen the familiar look of defeat in the surgeon's eyes.
And for three days, he'd remained in the hospital, even when the others left, he remained.
Though Mr. Takaba left to finalize any loose ends regarding Takaba's near departure, the others had left to go home as instructed by the doctor. Though weary at first, they still left in order regain what little sanity they had left.
Kou wasn't ready to go though, not until he heard that his friend was going to survive.
The second day was purgatory, hell had let up a little bit, as the doctors returned looks of hope and encouragement to the remaining friend. Though he wondered if they meant the happiness they communicated, as he figured they could be casting him such glances out of guilty obligation.
He wanted to see Takaba, but he wasn't allowed to. Apparently, he wasn't completely stabilized, and again, the image of his friends tarnished body invaded his mind.
Purgatory burned over as hell paved way, and hell froze over as Kou's thoughts became centered around Takaba.
Two days was a long time to stretch the truth. He would have appreciated if they doctors came out and said it, just told him that Takaba was dead.
He was overdosed and raped, and barely breathing from what Kou had allowed himself to see. Mr. Takaba worked a suspicious high paying job, maybe he was paying the doctors to keep quiet...but why agonize himself like that?
And even if he was alive...would he be the same? Surgeries could spoil one's body, Takaba's youthful and energetic personality could be gone...would he be hooked to a machine, would he be paralyzed or mentally retarded?
Would Takaba even be Takaba?
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
The third day came. Kou's burning emotions had scorched his soul, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. Despair filled him like a toxic mist, and it seeped out of him for all to see. Mr. Takaba had arrived earlier, had words with the doctor and disappeared into the hospital. That had been three hours ago, and he still hadn't come back.
Takaba was dead...he had to be. They were changing departure arrangements to funeral arrangements, picking out coffin colors, suits and whatever else was needed to have a funeral.
Kou wondered about the location...would they hold it in Hawaii where his family was from, or maybe Japan? Or maybe they'd take it further and bury him in Germany where he was originally born...but he was only half German...would they cut his body in half?
Maybe cremation, that way they could scatter his ashes in Germany, Japan and Hawaii.
Then perhaps they could throw him in the volcano_The island was a volcano, and technically, it was cremation, wasn't it?
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
"Kou, I said you could come in," the voice attempted to invade his train of thoughts, but his imagination took hold of the one-sided conversation.
Was that even legal? to throw the body in the volcano? At least it made a quick getaway, I mean, what evidence would there even be? The lava would destroy any evidence there was-
"Kou! He's alive, now stop tapping your foot on the ground and come on! I'm guessing you need to see im before you go home_You look terrible anyway, geez, come on," Mr. Takaba extended his hand, and Kou stared blankly at the red headed man.
"Not...dead…?" he barely managed it out, and against his control, he felt tears well in his dark eyes. His throat became constricted as he stood up, and he fought to control the tears that threatened to spill.
"Come," Mr. Takaba grasped Kou's hand and pulled him up.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
He'd never cried like this in his life, never. It seriously caused him to question exactly what Takaba meant to him, especially if he was breaking down over his friend's healed state.
A frenzy of emotion surged within his body. Anger, sadness, betrayal guilt and joy embodied themselves into the crying heap that was now Kou.
Not expecting the reaction himself, Mr. Takaba had left the room to give those two time together.
Takaba slept through Kou's weeping, and when he'd found the strength to stand again, he pushed off the bed which he had so suddenly collapsed over and took in his friend's sleeping state.
"Please don't do this to us again, Aki," he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Takaba's face, "You're important to us and to me, please don't….please be safe."
Takaba showed no signs of any kind of response, but Kou figured his friend had heard what he said anyway.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The third day passed, and Asami had found no traces of Sudoh or Takaba.
A lot could have happened in three days. Sudoh could be halfway across the country now, fleeing with his life. After Asami had torched Takaba's apartment, he'd headed straight back the the penthouse and sent his men to go secure the hospital Takaba was at. They'd gathered that information thanks to the neighbours, but unfortunately, Asami's pyromaniac episode left their small homes scorched and burned as well.
When Takaba's life was at stake, no one else mattered.
As for Sudoh, he wanted to deal with that treacherous bastard on his own. He wanted to make him hurt, to rip his lying vocal chords out, to pierce his evil eyes out, to rip his lips off his pretty face_He wanted to ruin Sudoh just as Sudoh had ruined him.
His sanity, his heart, his mind and his love...he'd lost it all to Sudoh, lost it all because of Sudoh.
He wanted it back, and he'd slowly peel the skin off of the model's body if it meant regaining it all.
Asami wanted Sudoh to suffer like never before. He wanted him to suffer so badly that hell would be his only refuge.
And when he walked into the penthouse, he did so with Takaba's bloodied sheet clutched in his grip. By the end of this all, the sheet in his hand would not be the only sheet soiled in blood.
When he arrived, however, Sudoh was gone. All traces of him, his clothes, his belongings_gone. And to make matters worse, Asami's men arrived shortly after with no traces of Takaba whatsoever. The hospital, apparently, had no patients under the name of Takaba Akihito.
Asami was so at odds with himself at the time, he hadn't even bothered to personally check the hospital. Confused and angry, he sent his men out of the penthouse.
Asami, in all of his life, had never felt so lost. The sheet fell to his feet as he brought his hand to his waist.
There resided his ruger.
He shook his head roughly...what the hell was he thinking? Quickly brushing his fingers over the cold metal object, he delve into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette from his near empty box. He'd been smoking more than usual, he remembered Takaba the more he did.
But chain smoking was the least of his concerns. Finding Takaba_finding him safe and alive was his utmost priority.
Forgiveness could come later, but he needed to be sure the boy was safe before their relationship moved on.
He thought of the lies Sudoh had presented to him, thought of the evidence he'd provided as well.
The images, the documents, the witness...betrayal, affairs and lies…Sudoh had presented these all to Asami, had slandered Takaba's title with information that seemed so right at the time.
His company was crashing, information was being leaked, money was being withdrawn from accounts_they needed a culprit, and Sudoh provided Asami with one.
Completely unaware of the conspiracy against him, Takaba had been unjustly pinned to the near downfall of the company.
Unable to kill him or harm him any more than he already had, Asami did the only thing he could be happy doing. He kicked the photographer out, got the younger man out of his hair for good.
He thought the betrayal stopped when Takaba had left, but the same things continued to happen over and over again.
Secrets were leaked out to enemy companies, moles were being pricked out of Sion like crazy, and Sudoh had managed to connect all this to the photographer. Takaba had no clear alibi, no clear defense...and to make matters worse, he'd been snooping around other enemies clubs as well.
He claimed it was only to help Asami, but again, too much had been put against Takaba.
Takaba hated him, and he knew it. He'd have to beg on his knees if he wanted forgiveness. He'd have to beg like he never had before.
But then again, that meant he'd have to find Takaba first.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
When the second day came around, he searched for places that he knew Takaba usually hung around. He tried his job first, arriving there personally to request Takaba's presence. Perplexed by the man's stature, they'd been slow to answer and more curious as to who he was. He simply told them he was a businessman wanting to schedule an appointment with Takaba, and had heard that the photographer worked at the present location.
To his dismay, they hadn't seen Takaba since two days before, and he hadn't sent them any indication that he'd be missing work. Appalled by the fact that they hadn't yet sent a missing person's report, Asami left in a hurry.
Next he checked Kou's home. If he'd gotten any good information from the news editors, he'd gathered that due to Takato's recent marriage, Takaba hadn't hung around him like he used to, and in turn, rarely visited him. He'd be wasting precious time if he went to interrogate the other man. But Kou had been there for Takaba when he came back from Hong Kong, he'd even offered to let him stay after his apartment was raided due to Takaba's presence there.
To his dismay, however, the neighbours hadn't seen Kou since New Year's Eve.
They looked elsewhere, small restaurants, movie theatres, hangouts_Anywhere Takaba may have been, anyplace that attracted a younger crowd.
No one had seen him, people hardly recognized the description Asami provided. In his desperate endeavour to find Takaba that day, he came to a horrifying conclusion.
He didn't even know Takaba, at least not personally. He knew the sexual side of the photographer, knew his daring side, knew only what Takaba allowed him to see. But the joyful side, the casual side, the Takaba-side, he didn't know at all.
What kind of relationship was that, because from what he understood, Takaba knew nothing of him either.
A relationship required love, compassion, understanding and communication. Neither of these factors contributed to the sick affair he and Takaba had created. They relied on each other for pleasure and passion only. He had given Takaba shelter and food, protection and other physical necessities the photographer required.
But that was it. Takaba paid him back in sex.
Was Asami living with an escort? He tried to deny it, but the more he thought of it, the more sense it made.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
The third day came, and Asami was a new man.
The thought of living with an escort had troubled him deeply, and he pondered on that fact for the entire night. When he found Takaba….he wanted to be different, he wanted them to be different. He wanted a relationship, a loving relationship, not a master and slave relationship. He was willing to change the cold and cruel man he was if it meant that he and Takaba could be happy together.
He was prepared to fall on his knees and beg like sinner before Takaba if it meant the photographer would forgive him. If Asami was going to be a better man, he needed Takaba to help him. Only Takaba could explain to him his faults and tell him how to change them. When he found Takaba again, he was prepared to be at the boy's mercy, he'd do anything if it meant staying with him.
It had also dawned on him, during that day, that he should actually check the hospital.
Really.
Yes, the hospital had no record of a Takaba Akihito, but neither did any other hospital in Tokyo. He'd specifically been led to believe that this hospital was the exact location which held Takaba, the neighbors had supplied him with that much. People were people, they loved money. These doctors were no different. For Takaba's own protection, he wouldn't be surprised if someone had paid the hospital to keep shut, he'd done it to the police before, so it wasn't unbelievable.
But who? An enemy? But which one?
Asami planned to investigate this matter personally.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
He'd never seen an Asian man with hair that red. Everything about the man's features told Asami that this man was Japanese, but his hair said otherwise. Perplexed as he was, Asami was certain that his bodyguards were even more puzzled. Upon arriving in the near vacant waiting room, they'd asked the front desk for information regarding a Takaba Akihito.
Obviously, this hadn't been the first time this had happened, as Asami's men had come previously demanding the whereabouts of the boy. So, he wasn't surprised to see a look of mild annoyance cross the young receptionist features.
It was then, however, at the mention of the name Takaba, that the peculiar redheaded middle aged man stood up, and as if he was a member of the hospital staff himself, disappeared behind the front desk. However, not before exchanging cautious looks with the receptionist though. As if something important had been said, the receptionist hurriedly attempted to send them on their way. Her demeanor changed from annoyed to careful and guarded,as if the presence of the redheaded man had served as some unspoken taboo.
Now this had peaked Asami's interest.
A strange man had mysteriously reacted the the name "Takaba" at a very particular time. And Asmi had been observing him carefully, he'd seen the way the man's breath hitched at the mention of the name, seen the way he stiffened and suddenly rose.
Like two observant cats, his bodyguards took keen notice to the man's behavior as well, and immediately sprung into action.
They made their way behind the desk, however, the young girl stood up quickly.
"S-sirs, i'm sorry, but authoriz…" his golden stare had brought her words to sudden halt, and with a gulp, she slumped back into her chair.
Phone glued to his ear, the redhead had his phone attached to the side of his face as he made a quick stride down the halls, casting a glance to the three men tailing him.
"You know what to do," loud enough for the trio behind him to hear, the man suddenly ended his conversation and slid his phone into his pocket.
Asami closed faster than before, the anticipation visibly leaking out of him.
The redhead had so far dodged doctors and nurses as he continued his quick stride against hospital traffic.
Asami and his men followed swiftly after him as he led them through a prolonged chase throughout the building.
This was taking too long.
"Damnit," Asami stopped, raising a hand as he realized a crucial fact.
"Sir?" both Suoh and Kirishima stated simultaneously.
"He's buying time," Asami said, venom laced within his smooth voice, "We've been chasing him around the hospital for ten minutes."
"So you've noticed?" clearer now, they resided in a room absent of all life forms except the four of them. Grey and chilly, it resembled a sort of research lab Asami had seen in books or on television.
Colorful vials, tubes and containers lined the walls, and in the center were tables, lab tables.
"It's the research department," the redhead supplied as he stood before the three, "many hospitals have them_at least down stairs."
Gun already drawn and pointed at the target before him, Asami spat toxin as he fought to control his rage, "Takaba Akihito_you know him i'm guessing. Where is he?"
The man chuckled as he raised his arms in a surrendering manner, "Oh boy, do I know him," he sighed, "as for his whereabouts...well, let's just say he's out of your_"
Asami shot before the man could finish, his rage urging him to cut any future crap the man would supply out of his vocabulary. But as skilled as he was annoying, he'd dodged the bullet the instant Asami had pulled the trigger, and now blended in with a cloud of mist which had seeped out of a pipe Asami's bullet had hit.
"Shit…." he muttered under his breath as the gas began to expand.
"Don't worry, it's harmless as it is now," the disembodied voice cooed, "Of course, mix it with another compound and viola, you've got yourself a chemical weapon. But you're not interested in that, are you?"
Behind him, Souh and Kirishima's strained eyes scanned the foggy premises, keeping an gaze out for red hair.
"Where is he," Asami repeated his question, his own eyes narrowed and alert.
He wanted to kill this nuisance.
"That's no way to talk to your elders," they turned around, the voice was too close for comfort.
But the fog made it impossible to see anyone within feet of them. And this man was obviously well trained in such a terrain.
They were at his mercy.
"But you're like my son. Rude and inconsiderate of those whom are older than you. Is that why you hurt him?" a click echoed through the foggy room, and all stiffened at the sound of a loaded gun, "Did you hurt him because he disrespected you?"
Red hair? Takaba didn't have red hair, come to think of it, he hardly shared any sort of features with this man...yet he claimed to be his father.
"Listen, why you want him, I don't know. And as much as I want to make you pay for what you've done to him, I can't. I've got a plane to catch," slowly, the fog let up as the sound of a creaking door resounded throughout the cold lab, "You're easier to manipulate than you think, especially for someone like me, who's had years in military practice. With that being said, keep away from my son. Because I know your face now, and soon, I'll know your name. Be it on purpose or by coincidence. If I ever see you again, regardless of what you're doing, I will kill you."
BANG!
The pain hadn't even connected with Asami yet, not until he'd felt his warm blood run down his chest and soak his clothing.
"I'd burn the place up, but we're in a hospital, and besides, I think the gunshot wound is enough of a warning," he was serious, dead serious, "I'm not joking. Do not look for Akihito, because if I find out you are, I will kill you. And trust me, I'll be watching you."
Aimed towards the door, both Suoh and Kirishima unleashed a hurl of bullets at the redheads way. But it was to no avail.
The fog cleared, and so did any evidence of this man who called himself Takaba's father.
Hand pressed firmly to his chest, Asami gaped as a steady stream of blood trickled down his chin.
This man had hit a vital point, and if Asami didn't get medical treatment soon, he'd be dead.
Attention back to his boss, Kirishima assisted Asami the best he could as Suoh left to go get help.
Darkness overcame Asami as his eyes began to close.
He could hear shouting, could feel people lifting up his limp body.
But sleep began to nag, a deep and enticing sleep.
And all the while, he could think only of Akihito and having the boy safe and sound with him again.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
So I know I said I would finish this in three chapters, but it's gonna have to be four. I've been working on this for over a week, and it was just gonna keep on lagging, and lagging and lagging. As a reader myself, I don't like reading loooooooong chapters. They hurt my eyes, so i'm considering you when I do this. If my writing started to lag towards the end, i'm really sorry for that. Like I said, this has been going on for far too long, and I needed to bring this chapter to a close.
Please tell me what you think about, personally, I had fun with Takaba's backstory. I got inspired when Mikhail mentioned how odd Takaba's hair color was, and midway, developed a story for that. I hope you like Mr. Takaba's character, I wanted to bring him to life, so I gave him his own sob story as well. Um, I'll try to have this completed before February ends. For now, you've got this big giant blob of a chapter until I formulate the final one, which, if things go as planned, should be way shorter.
REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! I love hearing what you guys have to say, so PLEAAASSSEE REVIEW! I'll be posting little VF shorts, you know, the archive is small, it needs more stories. So guys, get out there and start writing.
As always, sorry for any grammatical mistakes, have a nice week, and God bless!
