Days Without Sun
Chapter Four: Beloved
Akihiko was stretched out on the sofa in the condo. The sun had long since set. He had been lying there unmoving for hours: the weight of his grief was so great that he could hardly breathe.
Both he and Santo Justino had been dis-heartened when after forty-eight hours no call had come through. It was now clear that Misaki had not been taken by someone looking for a quick ransom.
Akihiko had been mortified when he realized this. Even more so, when Santo Justino suggested that Misaki might have fallen victim to human trafficking: another big underworld business in his country.
"He's a bit older than what they usually go for, but he looks so young, they wouldn't know that at first," Santo Justino had soberly offered.
If that was the case, Misaki could be anywhere: drugged and locked in a room, in some abhorrent brothel, or even out of the country completely if he'd been sold to someone. All the terrible possibilities of what could be happening to his beloved ran through Akihiko's mind constantly in an unending loop.
It had been almost a month now since Misaki had been taken and every day that passed the chances of his lover ever being recovered grew slimmer.
Akihiko lit the newest in his long line of cigarettes, but even this old comfortable addiction brought him no relief. He took a deep drag and then after a moment with its release, as he did with every breath now, Akihiko also exhaled a word.
"Misaki."
Tears filled his eyes and Akihiko let them roll down his unshaven cheeks. He thought now, as he did almost every minute, of the way the boy had looked the last time he saw him.
"Misaki."
Sea-tousled brown hair that had taken on soft caramel highlights where the sun's fingers had stroked it.
"Misaki."
That lithe lean body, kissed brown and increasingly carved by his time on the water.
"Misaki."
The lush green depths of his lover's eyes that rivaled the sweating jungles in the mysteries and possibilities they contained.
Finally, Akihiko rolled his stiff body over onto his side. His muscles screamed in both protest and relief after having been in one position for so long. Akihiko relished the feeling as it distracted him, if only for a brief instant, from the pain in his heart.
Akihiko had quickly learned, as he suspected, that Misaki had not been taken by Haruhiko or Takahiro.
Takahiro was here in now, in fact, staying in a shabby hotel across town. He had flown to Santa Catarina after getting the message from Akihiko about what had happened. They had met once together at the Garopaba police station, weeks ago, once the police had finally gotten involved.
Takahiro had said nothing as he had sat in their missing person's office, red-eyed, listening to the interpreter Akihiko had provided for his friend for their conversations with the authorities.
The elder Takahashi had made it very clear in that interview that while he would work with the authorities in any way he could he would not tolerate any additional interaction with Akihiko.
This was a sliver that festered in Akihiko's heart.
Then this afternoon, Takahiro had called. "I have to go back to Japan, I am leaving the search for Misaki in your hands, Usami-san but don't think that means I have in any way forgiven you for what you have done. You have taken my brother from me just as surely as that rain-slicked road took my parents. Whatever the outcome of this," Takahiro's voice had choked on his words. "I hold you responsible."
"I understand, Takahiro," was all Akihiko could say. The author loathed himself in that moment, as he often had lately: that his selfishness had brought so much suffering to the brothers he loved so intensely.
Whether it was Takahiro or someone else, the facts of Misaki's disappearance had been leaked to the press and overnight, the story had become a global sensation.
"Wealthy, famous author involved in an illicit affair with a barely legal boy… Japanese corporate heir steals poor, simple orphan, from family… Award winning novelist, Usami Akihiko flees with young boy toy to another country only to have lover mysteriously disappear."
It was a tabloid's dream.
Accusations that Akihiko himself had killed Misaki had even been forwarded by some of the rags. Not that he gave a fuck about what other people thought about him, but the very idea that he would purposely harm Misaki… Only the boy's disappearance itself was more painful.
Santo Justino had been concerned when the situation had been made public. "If Takahashi is still alive…"
"He is," Akihiko interrupted, "I can feel it."
The detective had heard these words before on other cases and he had found, more often than he would like to admit, that intuitions of the victim's loved ones, unfortunately in the end, were not always in keeping with the reality of the situation.
"If Misaki is alive, hopefully this will incite someone to come forward for ransom or the reward, but…"
"But what?" Akihiko was disturbed by the sudden shift of the other man's expression.
"There is also a chance that all this publicity might spook whoever has the boy and they might panic or decide that they need to get rid of him."
At this possibility Akihiko felt a sharp blade of fear run through his guts.
In the few weeks the detective had been working for him, Santo Justino had proven to be a smart man and good at what he did. Akihiko still had the detective under his retainer, in addition to the police now.
After his initial experience, Akihiko did not trust them to care for Misaki's case properly. Besides, Santo Justino had a relatively amicable working relationship with the Garopaba police department, so they were feeding information to each other.
Santo Justino had also worked well with Ito, the Usami's personal investigator, but after two week's Akihiko sent Ito back to Japan.
It had not taken Akihiko long, once Ito was there, to realize yet again, Brazil was not Japan and while Ito was skilled, he just didn't have the cultural insight to be as effective as he needed him to be. He had dismissed Ito after becoming increasingly fearful that the family detective might actually start slowing Santo Justino down.
Akihiko closed his eyes after stubbing out his half smoked cigarette. He had not slept for more than a few hours in days.
He opened them again and looked at the takeout containers that littered the table.
He vacillated now between roaming the streets himself looking in vain for Misaki or staying sequestered in the condo for days on end, believing that the moment he stepped out, somehow Misaki would suddenly appear and he would miss him.
Akihiko sighed. Aikawa-san will be here tomorrow.
He really didn't want to see her. But she had insisted she was coming as his friend, not his editor, to make sure that he was caring for himself. Akihiko knew he should be grateful. He had been nothing but a pain in the ass and yet the woman was still so loyal.
Aikawa-san had gone to the mat for him again just recently too.
When the news had broken about his situation, Marukawa had threatened to drop him because of the scandal. That was, until the news had shot the sale of all of his books through the roof.
Not that any of this mattered to Akihiko. If Misaki didn't return to him, he thought he might well never write another word.
Akihiko suddenly sat up.
This shift in position made him dizzy. He ran his hands through the greasy strands of his unwashed silver hair.
They'd thought they had a breakthrough more than a week ago when Misaki's phone had been discovered. Santo Justino's connection had been able to trace it. It turned out a street kid had picked it up. He claimed he'd found it in a garbage can that was along Misaki's path back to the hotel.
They were fortunate that one of the shops had an external camera for security. Akihiko had been beside himself when they recovered the footage of what had happened that afternoon.
The author had watched the grainy black and white coverage with Santo Justino as a European looking man, tall and light-haired was walking with Misaki. Then Akihiko had seen his boy suddenly stagger and collapse into the arms of this stranger.
The man picked Misaki up like he weighed nothing, opened the back of the van that was parked right beside them, and set Misaki inside. Then he threw something into the trash (Misaki's phone most likely).
Without causing any commotion and, in just moments after Misaki's collapse, the man had climbed into the van and had driven off. The whole scene lasted less than three minutes, but to Akihiko, with the anguish he felt watching, it seemed like an unbearable year.
They'd had had some luck after tracking the van with the cameras mounted on traffic lights near the scene. Unfortunately, the plate had been a dummy and after about the first fifteen miles, the vehicle just suddenly seemed to disappear.
"Whoever this is knows just what he's doing," Santo Justino had said over the phone to Akihiko earlier that afternoon after saying he had some new ideas but that for the moment, the trail had gone cold.
"Is that good or bad?"
"That depends on how you look at it," the detective had offered cautiously. "I mean, it seems like our guy really went to a lot of trouble to take your partner. So hopefully that means he'll want to keep Takahashi around for a while and that's good."
"And the bad part?" Akihiko had felt compelled to ask though he already knew the answer.
"The bad part is whatever it might be he wants to do to Takahashi while he has him."
Akihiko let out a soft moan remembering the detective's words then with great effort; he pushed himself up off the couch. Looking down at his increasingly thin frame and disheveled clothes, he knew that Misaki would be furious with him for allowing himself to get into such a state.
Tomorrow, he promised the boy in his mind. I will pull myself together and endeavor to act in a way that will make you happy, but for now, my Misaki, I am simply too tired.
Akihiko moved into his darkened bedroom and stripped himself naked. Then he lay down on the hardwood floor near Misaki's side of the bed. He curled one of his long arms up under his head for a pillow. Though he had the air conditioning off in the condo and the rooms were sweltering, a shiver shook his tall, muscular frame.
It was not much, but without knowing the conditions that his poor lover was in, there was no way that Akihiko could rest in the comfortable bed they had shared.
Please know that I am with you as much as I can be, Misaki, Akihiko closed his weary eyes hoping for a few minutes of solid sleep before the nightmares found him.
Wherever you are, I hope you can be strong. I hope you know that I will not stop until I find you. I hope that you know whatever happens; I will never stop loving you… my sweet beloved…
Exhaustion finally overtook him and Akihiko suddenly drifted.
Before he slipped into the underworld of his tormented dreams on his last conscious breath he uttered the name of his slender green-eyed deity.
"Misaki."