Chapter 4 : ..::Changing::..
""Uhm? I understand. Kirishima, send a car here!"
The words were suspended for a moment in the silence and in the feeble light which was discovering that all things, in that hour of the day in which light and night dissolve themselves in each other.
Asami laid the phone on the table and took up the cigarettes. He pulled out one of them by beating the bottom of the packet on the back of his hand, and took it directly with his mouth. It was difficult to say how the cigarette managed to stay there, poised, while the man approached the lighter flame, tinkering with it with his free man inhaled the smoke slowly, then let it slip again from his slightly ruffled lips.
That was the hour of the day which he preferred. He found that it was the one that most resembled him. In fact, if he had the time and the desire to wonder about his life, the twilight was a good comparison. He looked with the corner of his eye inside the house, through the balcony door, and was able to see only the forearm of the boy which hung out of bed. Asami moistened his lips. Hikaru once had compared him to the shoreline. Neither land, nor sea. A grey area.
Hikaru was mistaken. His life was much more linear and less "fictional." He did what he had to do to get what he wanted. And he got it.
While the sun was for three quarters yet swallowed by the sea, the whole line of the horizon burned of a blinding red that quickly cleared in the delicate tones of a feeble lilac, and then become a light blue.
Asami went back into the room, buttoning up his shirt and, after taking the jacket from the chair where he left it the previous evening, turned back to look at Hikaru, who slept.
The Yakuza moved a wisp of the boy's hair which lay on his eyes and put it behind his ear.
He headed toward the exit door. The jacket on his shoulder. The cigarette still between his lips. The free hand in his pocket.
His men had already arrived.
****
Some rhythmic thuds, some concentric sounds were spreading in the boy's mind, which was still asleep.
Those annoying "tonk - tonk - tonk", those lengthened sounds, as he got out from the torpor of the sleep, turned in the equally disturbing and dry "tak - tak - tak" of the clock's hands. With a long and husky moan, clinging with vim to the latest strip of sleep, Hikaru opened his eyes, slowly.
The sunlight blades of the midday sun that seeped through the Venetian blinds hardly managed to squeeze between the thick, dark eyelashes.
The boy closed his eyes again and rose slowly, sitting on the bed. He opened them again, looking around the room. Nothing had changed in that room since the previous night….
Except that the book was on the bedside table rather than on the floor. Except that the bed was in a mess, but the evening before he had not even moved the bedspreads.
But between the previous evening and this morning there had been "something". Also if what happened the previous night was no different from what had happened many other times in those last years, Hikaru felt that something had changed.
Sometimes it happens... sometimes it happens that things crack, suddenly.
This Takaba guy surely was dangerous. Hikaru now knew.
Jumping out of bed, he tried to avoid the mirror's flakes on the floor and headed into the bathroom. The intense light from the opened windows arrested him, as a wave, waking him altogether.
"Damn light!!!" he said between his teeth, and he took a brush from the shelf and threw it on the shutter to push it closed.
He looked at himself in the mirror above the sink. How he hated those damned golden flecks in his eyes.
He had to be nice, he said to himself. If he would be nice and quiet, it would change almost nothing. He had to remain in his beautiful home, to live his beautiful life, surrounded by his beautiful things…and wait for his turn.
He looked in the mirror again.
No...he would not be nice and quiet.
Not this time.
***
The swing swung slowly, while Akihito - astride the board and with his back supported by one of the chains - was immersed in his thoughts and attracted the bothered glares of the children who felt robbed of their game.
The photographer had not been able to sleep the previous night. He repeated to himself that it was because of the pain in the shoulder, or the pain in his back, but he was not able to convince himself.
The phone call he had heard in Asami's car had left a sense of unease in his heart. He had called himself "baka" hundred times since he had woken last night and Asami had not been there. Then that damned phone call had come back to his mind and he immediately begun to doubt.
His feelings for Asami, about which he seemed so convinced, had to be very fragile, he rebuked himself! The Yakuza went to Hong Kong still armed for him, gave up the deed, and so an amount of money that he could not even imagine, for him.
He risked his life for him... and hearing Asami saying on the phone "Hika-chan, I'll surely come as soon as possible ..." was enough to become prey of doubts? No, that was wrong....but...
Akihito shook his head....but ...the tone of that phone call… and that smile on Asami's lips that he had never seen before….
Ah, stop!
He decided that the best thing to do was to talk with Asami about this. Now.
On the other hand, it was almost 14.00 and Asami also, sooner or later, had to have a break for a lunch! Once he made up his mind, he felt much better and smiled.
The Spring sun, when Akihito rose his head, gave a warm and sweet color to his eyes. Or, perhaps, was his smile…
He headed to Club Sion.
The photographer entered the main door, greeting the guards at the entrance. Fortunately, from now on, he would no more be picked up like an old rag and be thrown into the street every time he tried to enter.
At that time, the Club was semi-deserted, and Akihito was afraid to have made a useless trip to Sion. Approaching the girl at the reception at the office's floor, he was welcomed by a bright smile. The receptionist was a beautiful girl, with a reassuring and not too blatant beauty, as was suitable to her work.
"What can I do for you, sir?" she said, always smiling, so that Akihito asked himself how she could speak and smile at the same time…
"Erhm .. Could I talk with Asami-sama? My name is Takaba Akihito…"
"Asami-sama is not here, I'm very sorry! He is out for a meeting with some customers… but he has left this for you…" she added, giving an envelope to the boy.
He took the message with surprised expression, and read it.
"Today. 22.00. Your home. A."
The photographer crushed the paper and then put it in his pocket.
He could bet that Asami would be very amused to discover that he was really came to Sion, as the Yakuza had expected. Bastard!!!! He greeted and thanked the receptionist. Turning to exit, a sensual golden glance of two eyes flashed in Akihito's.
"Asami?" he said, turning to look better. But the Yakuza was not in that room.
There was only the receptionist and another employee, who spoke with an handsome boy that gave his back to Akihito.
***
The night had fallen to cover the sky with its dark tent since a couple of hours.
In his car with blackened windows, Feilong was smoking and waiting for the communication from his posted men that the operation could begin. The ringing of his cell announced that the time had come.
A dark car came emerged from the row of warehouses and parked at the right distance from all the lampposts so that their light would not disturb too much the people inside it. Immediately, the Chinese noticed strange movements in the car.
Feilong turned up his nose at the idea of what was happening in that car, but he needed to wait until things evolved to the point that was more useful to him. At his signal, his men surrounded the car and took out a very bulky man with oily hair, which was holding his trousers, and a not very young woman, almost naked.
"Cheng Wu…" FeiLong said to the man, while one of his men was giving him a pair of leather gloves. "Long time no see..."
"L.. Liu FeiLong," the man looked at him with wide eyes, and wasn't able to stop his jaw from trembling.
"I apologise for the huge number of my men. But being you with a ... Lady ...." the long haired man turned to the woman, who, numbed by the fear, didn't care to be practically naked, "...I thought you had brought some of yours to be helped with her..." he added, putting on the gloves.
The man breathed noisily. The terror could be read in his eyes and, if he had not been supported by two of FeiLong's men, his legs would surely have surrendered.
"Wu… the pong of your fear tells me that you have done something that could displease me," the triad leader put with grace his long braid behind his back, while Wang gave him a small gun with a mother-of-pearl grip.
"Madam?" FeiLong said, turning to the woman, "Are you left-handed?"
The woman batted her eyelids. She had not grasped the question, or perhaps she was thinking about how much time remained for her to live, and did not answer.
"Speak!" he commanded with a sharp tone and a light in his eyes that did not accept objections.
"Me?.... no... I'm not..." the woman stuttered.
Then, everything happened in a hurry. She almost didn't understand what was happening. FeiLong put the gun in the woman's right hand, putting his hand over hers.
And shot.
Cheng Wu's scream echoed in the prostitute's ears for years.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Madam," FeiLong said with an absolutely calm expression, not impressed at all by the poor Wu's death rattles.
"Cheng Wu, remember this: For now, you lost only a knee, and you will limp for the rest of your life. Next time you will be much less lucky. Tell this also to your friends."
FeiLong returned the gun to Wang, who carefully preserved it in a transparent plastic bag.
"And you, Madam, remember that we have the evidence that you shot this man... and be sure he'll never charge us about this...so:
1. Don't dare to say one word about this to anybody, otherwise the police will find this gun, with your fingerprints, by accident;
2. Call with your cell the emergency number so they can take care of this scum, before he dies by blood loss.
3. Expect that my men occasionally come to ask your cooperation, or some information about the wonderful world that you attend. Was I clear enough?"
The woman promptly nodded and, grasping her cell, she dialled the emergency number.
The triad leader left his men to deal with the last details, and headed towards his car.
The cleaning operation in Tokyo was well underway.
When he would meet with Asami in a couple of days, the Chinese groups who worked in Japan would have been very clear as to how they should behave regarding The Baishe.
"Liu -Laoban…" Wang timidly asked while he opened the car's door to Feilong, "Why haven't we limited ourselves to kill them?"
"Wang .. We are not in our territory, so we can not use extreme measures without the consent of who rules the local underworld…" he replied, entering the car. Wang closed the door, nodding.
FeiLong took off the gloves and dumped them on the car seat.
The problems they had in Tokyo would be resolved sooner than he expected. But his job for tonight was not finished yet.
"Wang. To Madame Ling," he ordered.
***
Akihito was sitting on the bed reading a manga, while he drank a tasty hot chocolate. It was already 21.30 and, presumably, it would have been appropriate to take a shower…
After reading Asami's message, he had felt more comforted, and had had no thought about his doubts throughout the day.
He heard knocking at the door.
"Damn, Asami is already here !!!!" he said, trying to hide the cup of chocolate and the mangas, to avoid Asami's sarcastic comments, and cleaning the chocolate's "moustache" with his sleeve. He ran to the door and, after trying to set the tone, opened it.
He had not even the time to half-open the door when a sharp, strong blow hit him in the chest. It made Akihito lose the grip on the floor and threw him back. Akihito found himself a few meters from the door.
The shoulder that had wrought on the wooden frame of the bed was aching, but at least, the mattress had avoided that he slammed his head.
"What on earth!" he screamed, lifting his eyes to his aggressor.
In front of him, standing, there was a boy, apparently of his same age. A very beautiful boy: black long hair, full lips posed in a childlike grouch.
"You. have. to. disappear…." the unknown boy said, between his teeth. Golden metallic flecks shone in his eyes, full of anger.