A/N:

This one was fun to write. As always, thanks to Miyanoai for beta-ing. She's amazing. Though having a crisis herself, she still managed to get this to me quickly!

***Sunshine***

Chapter Eleven:

She sat in the wheelchair, her leg propped up straight and a pillow beneath her hip. Akihito stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder as she watched Mahdi's chest rise and fall. His even breaths were syncopated with the beeping machines, a telltale sign that his heart was strong.

"It doesn't look bad," Hisana murmured, her fingers dusting over his lips, feeling his moist breath. "Though I suppose that the clothes help hide his injuries."

"I think it was mostly internal injuries," the photographer responded. There were no ruptured arteries, according to Reiko-sensei, though he did have to remove large quantities of muscle. "Hopefully there won't be too much scarring."

"Yeah, because I was only with him for his body," Hisana ruefully chuckled.

Akihito squeezed her shoulder and with a soft smile, she put her hand on his. "Thank you for bringing me to see him," Hisana said. "I couldn't stand being away from him when this is all my fault."

"This isn't your fault," The photographer told her. "You aren't responsible for crazy maniacs bent on revenge. Besides," he glanced at Ueda, who guarded the doorway with an impassive face and clenched fists. "You need to thank Ueda. He's the one that found Mahdi, and put you in the wheelchair."

Hisana looked over her shoulder at the stony faced guard. "Thanks, Ueda."

"Of course, Musume-sama," Ueda bowed his head. He then turned his attention back out of the door.

The sun was slowly starting to peep through the window, with dawn's spindly fingers pulling away the darkness. "Ryuichi has been gone a long time," Akihito sighed.

Hisana squeezed his hand. "These things always take time," she agreed.

"You sound like you've waited many times," he teased, trying to keep the mood from getting too somber. This was a good thing: they were all walking away from the night. He would be damned if the family caved in from grief now.

"So have you," she sighed solemnly, not ready to be pulled from her melancholy.

Akihito waited long nights for his lover to come home, so he was unpleasantly used to it. Still, the acknowledgement made him uncomfortable. There was faint grumbling in the hallway, so Akihito pulled back slightly. Nurses were coming in to check on Mahdi again. Three shots to the chest made you a high risk patient.

"Do you love my dad?" Her voice was strangled, struck somewhere in her throat. She suddenly couldn't take her eyes off Mahdi––couldn't bear to look at Akihito. "That's what this entire trip was about, you see. I wanted to know if you actually cared for him."

He knew that this conversation was coming, and he had not been keen on having it. She obviously adored her father, loving him beyond his crime and money. It was unfathomable that anyone else could, and the photojournalist had no idea how to assuage her doubts. Love did not exist in Asami Ryuichi's cold world, yet Aki loved him.

"Yes," he could only answer truthfully. Sometimes simple honesty was the best reassurance. "More than I have ever loved anything else."

The doctors were getting closer. Gold eyes flickered to Ueda and the door. This was not a conversation she wanted to have an audience for. Just like her father, she dismissed the guard as an entity, so used to having them hover. "Good. Kirishima said you did, but I had to see for myself."

"I get it. It's hard––"

"Move, please," a thick voice interrupted.

"Who are you?" Ueda's muscled arm blocked the entrance. Akihito and Hisana looked at the disturbance. There was a crowd of dark skinned men with dark eyes outside the room.

"We are here for Mahdi-sama," the thickest one said in stilted Japanese. "Abbas-sama wants him home."

"What?" Hisana shrieked. "La! La!"

Okay, he wasn't going to be much help if everybody started speaking in Arabic, so he quickly spoke up in Japanese. "He's just come out of surgery. You can't move him yet!"

"We can and we will," the second one, who was just out of Ueda's deadly reach, retorted. The face of the first man briefly contorted, but it quickly smoothed in the face of Ueda's fury.

"Let me talk to Abbas," Asami's daughter snarled. "He just doesn't understand––"

"Your father has already spoken with Abbas-sama," the first man cut her off. "Abbas-sama did not change his mind. We will be taking him now."

"Over my dead body!" Hisana hissed. She tried to stand; her face an ugly puce but Akihito forced her back into her chair.

The declaration must have stirred something in Ueda. As the first man in the Emirate wave surged forward, Asami's goon pulled his elbow back. Thrusting forward, he cold-cocked the man. The sound of his nose breaking seemed to reverberate in the room. He crumpled like a piece of paper. Ueda easily stepped over him to intercept the next attacker.

"My purse!" Hisana shouted. She had a gun in her purse, a small .38. "Where's my purse?"

Only Akihito hadn't known that. Her purse was still in the limo, its innards ripped out by her father.

The second man met Ueda's attack head on. He caught the punch but was unprepared for the elbow to his temple. His shout nearly shattered Akihito's eardrums. He instinctively pulled Hisana's chair away from the bed, behind him. Her hands clawed for the metal rail, trying to stay as close to Mahdi as possible. She would throw her body over his if that was what it took.

Still shouting incoherently, the man rushed at Ueda. Wrapping his arms around the man in a bear hug, he threw them both on the ground. Luckily, Ueda's trunk-like arms were loose. He grabbed the man's face and turned it violently.

However, the distraction gave the last two guards time to sweep in. Guns drawn, the charged Mahdi's bed. Akihito knew they weren't there to kill Mahdi or anyone else, but he would be damned if he let them further injure Hisana. Asami's daughter was pulling herself towards Mahdi, shouting in Arabic.

Ueda was wrestling with the man with the broken nose, and the Arab was winning. Ueda was still disoriented from the fall, and the Arab was slippery. Grabbing Ueda's gun, he smashed the grip into Ueda's head three times. As hard as he could. Ueda flopped on the floor, unconscious.

Akihito knew what he had to do. Stepping forward, arms raised protectively over his head, he used his body as a barrier. The two foreign guards looked surprised at the sudden barricade. Then their eyes hardened. The guns that had been pointed at Hisana were now pointed at him.

Akihito knew that they wouldn't hurt him…

They couldn't…

"Lower your guns immediately," a voice as frigid as the arctic wind blew around them.

Hisana's shoulders sagged in relief. "Daddy…"

Asami saw everything: Hisana's bloodless fingers gripping Al Madani, willing her body to walk as she pulled herself out of her chair. His lover stood protectively in front of her, his arms open wide. Ueda was stirring on the floor as he palmed for his gun, the dead man beside him. The rest of the Emirate men shifted when Kirishima, Suoh and two other men leveled their guns. They had hoped to extract Mahdi before Asami arrived.

"Asami-san," the third one raised his hands into the air. He tried to stay calm.

"You have thirty minutes to get out of Japan," the fixer's grip on his gun tightened. He had heard the shouts as he was getting off the elevator. Hisana's infuriated snarls, Akihito's loud words and the sound of bodies hitting the floor. He had never willed his body to move so fast, past the doctors and nurses who flattened themselves against the walls as he passed. Better he stop the commotion than they. "If you stay one second longer, I will assume you wish to be buried here."

The third man gulped. "Understood," he jerkily nodded. In thundering Arabic, he commanded the men to take Mahdi and their fallen comrade.

Hisana watched with horrified eyes as they ripped the IV lines off of Mahdi's arm and lifted him bridal style. "No!" she tried to hold on, but with cold eyes, the man jerked Mahdi out of her grasp. She would have fallen forward had Akihito not grabbed her. "Daddy! Stop them!"

Asami's gaze was murderous. The Arab shrugged, Mahdi's body bobbing.

"No!" she screamed again as they took him away. "Mahdi! Mahdi! Mahdi!" It sounded like her heart was being ripped from her chest. Akihito wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her while she struggled and wailed.

***Sunshine***

She only stayed in the hospital for two days before coming home. Not to the condo, though. To another safe house. It was far away from Sion and Shinjuku, here no one would look for them.

Asami did not work for several days afterwards, and neither did Akihito. Hisana was immobile unless in her wheelchair, so she depended on them for everything. At first, she stayed in her room, crying under her sheets. Ruger, a present from Mahdi, was locked in her arms, and Asimov sat dolefully beside her. Even Mumbs was untouched. Asami had offered him to his child, but Hisana hurled the bear into a corner as she shouted for her father to get out.

"I'm worried about her," Akihito confessed while he stirred the beef for the sukiyaki. "She isn't eating."

Asami sighed and took another drink of his coffee. That was one definite change that Akihito noticed immediately. Having Hisana home made his lover more health conscious, like he was trying to set a good example. Yes, he still smoked and drank, but it was much less frequent. And he quickly subbed out any cigarette if she came into the room.

"She's grieving," Ryuichi replied. "Unfortunately, that takes time."

"She still shouldn't be cooped up in that dark room," the photographer grumbled. The Asami family was a group of stubborn assholes; he would not force her out of her hiding hole, and she refused to speak to anyone but her dogs.

"She's had enough trauma. I'll let her work through this at her own pace."

Akihito groused some more, but relaxed when Ryu's thick arms snaked around his waist. Hisana was his daughter, after all. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. So there was no reason for Aki to worry. But he could not help the coiling tension in his gut.

***Sunshine***

The phone rang at three o'clock in the morning. They had just fallen asleep after several rounds of gentle lovemaking (apparently, ever home Asami had came equipped with a soundproofed room). It was some wailing English song that jerked him awake, and as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, Akihito realized that it must have been Hisana's phone. It sat innocuously silent on the table for days, only to now flare to life.

"Ughhhaaa…" he groaned. If he answered it, the noise would stop.

Ryuichi tossed the thick duvet away. His feet loudly slapped on the floor as he stomped into the kitchen. Akihito collapsed further into his pillow, pulling the sheets over his head. Anything to block out the noise.

It was a foreign number––European.

"What?" he snarled into the phone.

"We just heard!"

"Is she okay?"

"You're on speaker!"

Oh God. Teenage girls. At three in the fucking morning. He was going to find the first telephone operator he could and shoot the idiot for letting this call go through. "She'll live," was his terse response. He winced as there was lots of appalled squeals and swears. Yes, somebody was going to die painfully.

"We love her!"

"––just to check in!"

"And cheer her up!"

"If she needs anything––"

The phone clicked off speaker before Asami had an aneurysm. "My name is Charlisa," a sultry voice said. This girl seemed to sense that he was considering having all of them murdered in their sleep, and took preventative measures. "We didn't mean to wake you. Give our love to Hisana, Mr. Asami, and have her call me when she can."

"I will," he hung up the phone.

Blearily massaging his face, he tossed the damn cell away. It was mercifully on silent now.

"Daddy?" a soft call echoed down the hallway.

Asami's heart stuttered as he walked towards his daughter's room. He quickly groped his hips. Pants? He had on pants. Hisana was lying on her bed, pillows cushioning her hip. "Who was it?" her bodiless voice asked from the darkness.

"Charlisa," his deep voice rumbled. "Along with several other caterwauling girls."

"Oh," she sounded defeated. She had hoped it was from her now ex-boyfriend, and not her friends. "They…they don't know about us. You didn't…?"

"No," Asami leaned against the doorway. "I don't usually discuss that side of the business with strangers."

"Except for Mom," Hisana stared at the ceiling.

He balked. "Your mother was out of our lives long before I built this empire."

"Not Kokoro," she amended. "Mom––Akihito. He knows, right?"

"Yes," Asami tried to mask the surprise that jolted through him. Hisana had always been pleasant to his past lovers, but never so accepting. He had never let her get close with any of them, little shits who were only with him for his money. Most did not even get to meet her. "He knows."

"I thought so. I brought it up at the hospital, and he didn't seem shocked. That's when I figured out that he was going to be around for a while," she admitted. She swallowed loudly. "Charlisa knows––about everything, probably. She's Simone Garcia's daughter."

A Spanish woman and matchmaker. She arranged marriages between the wealthy, and helped the common man find mail order brides. Asami was very familiar with her business, though he personally had never used it. The Al Madani's moved human cargo for her frequently. Not all of her brides were willing participants.

"I'll never see Mahdi again, will I?" she tried to blink back the tears, but he could hear her sniffling.

Asami crossed the room in two steps. Ruger yelped when he nearly sat on her. He didn't care. Hisana had her arms held aloft, and he crushed her against his chest. She sobbed, her hot tears striking his bare chest. "I'm sorry, baby girl. So sorry."

"I––I know *hic* that *hic* you couldn't stop them. Not if Abbas wanted him back *hic*! But it hurts, Daddy!"

As he stroked soothing circles on her heaving back, Asami was whisked back in time to when she was a small child. She would run to his arms late in the night when the lightning flashed and thunder shook the building. The villains of her books, spiders and all the mundane things of life he could protect her from. But the weather…Mother Nature took orders from no man. Hisana felt that insecurity deep in her soul.

"I know, baby girl," he pressed feather light kisses into her hair. "I know."

She cried for a long time, and her father held her until she cried herself to sleep. Only then did he tuck Mumbs into her arms and pulled the sheets over her shoulders. Akihito was laying awake, waiting for him. Asami pulled the love of his life to his chest, the knot in his soul unfurling. They drifted off to sleep, and he knew, at last, that all was well.

***Sunshine***

Asami returned to work soon thereafter. Japan's underworld had been shockingly quiet in the wake of the massacre. In total, seventy-three people had been killed. It consisted mostly of Matsuhara's household and staff, but there were enough foreign bodies to set the criminals on edge. Something had infuriated Asami Ryuichi, and until they figured out what the hell had happened, the world walked on a razor's edge.

His meet with Hashimoto was long overdue. The smalltime yakuza had reached out to Asami the day following the shootout, demanding answers. Asami was more concerned with his hospitalized child, but promised to explain in person. Such was his power that a disgruntled Hashimoto agreed to wait. As a show of good will, Asami agreed to meet him on his home turf: an upscale casino and restaurant.

"Asami," Hashimoto rose from his seat. He had a firm handshake, something Asami appreciated. "This meeting is long overdue."

"Yes," Asami unbuttoned his suit jacket before taking the seat across from Hashimoto. "I had a household issue that required my undivided attention."

Hashimoto's gaze darkened. "That shouldn't have been your only concern. You are dangerously close to starting a war." Though Asami Ryuichi was the powerhouse in Japan, he was still human. If enough of the families banded together, they could take out many of his trading routes, crippling his business. They could not topple his regime, but they could hurt him. Maybe even get rid of that boy he doted on.

"I would start a thousand wars if it meant protecting what is mine," Asami drawled. He would not be intimidated by a dog nipping at his heels. The waiter delivered two medium rare filet mignons and a bottle of red wine.

Ever the gracious host, Hashimoto popped the bottle and took the first drink: proof that it was not poisoned. "The Crimson Rose is nowhere near your territory, Asami. It isn't yours," he tried to keep his temper and his voice even. "You had no business shooting seven of my men––"

"Have you heard of a man named Matsuhara Sabuko?" Asami interrupted. Hashimoto would build himself into a tirade, and he did not have the time to wait for its crescendo.

That stopped the inconspicuous man up short. "He has money, but he isn't one of us. Or rather, he wasn't when you slaughtered him." The press attributed the brutal murders to gang violence. Hashimoto knew better.

"He kidnapped a relative of mine, and held her hostage in the attic of your brothel. I did what I needed to do to ensure her safety."

"Bullshit!" Hashimoto retorted. He dropped his knife and fork as he shouted. "No one could do that without me knowing!"

Golden eyes narrowed and a gun suddenly appeared on the table. "Exactly."

"Now wait just a damn minute," Hashimoto back-peddled. "I didn't collaborate with him! I'm not stupid enough to start a war over some boy you like! Or whatever granny you have tucked away in God knows where!"

"I highly doubt that," the fixer sneered. As the waiter reproached them, he quietly placed a napkin over his gun. "Nonetheless, someone was backing Matsuhara. He didn't have the brains or the connections to pull this off."

"It wasn't me," Hashimoto protested again. "I'll aid you in any way I can, but I swear, I've never even spoken to the man."

"I don't need your help," Asami stood from the table. "I am capable of eradicating any threat. But, if I find out you had any hand in this, I will gut you like I did that piece of shit."

Asami walked away, Kirishima and Suoh beside him. They could not be late for dinner. Akihito was making a hot pot, and Hisana demanded to hang out with her adopted uncles. After his family fell asleep, they would track down Matsuhara's daughter.

***Sunshine***

"I haven't gotten Dad anything for his birthday yet," Hisana confessed. She sat in her motorized wheelchair at one end of the hallway. A giant cardboard tube was tucked under her arm.

"You don't need to get him anything," Akihito loudly replied. He was at the other end of the hall, sitting in Ryu's office chair, which conveniently had wheels. He had an identical cylinder under his good arm. "You being here is enough." Plus, neither one had the ability to get out of the safe house to go shopping. Asami had put them both on lockdown for until he found Matsuhara's backer.

Hisana looked pointedly at her bruised body. "Oh yeah. This was a great homecoming."

"At least the doctor said you can start trying to walk in a few days," Akihito shrugged. The physical therapist was coming to get her butt up out of that chair, and he wasn't sure who was more excited. "Besides, Ryu has everything."

"Not everything," Hisana shook her head. "Charge!"

Akihito pulled his bare feet on the floor, making the chair roll as fast as he could. Hisana gunned the motor on her chair as they both leveled their makeshift lances. They collided with a resounding thump, the cardboard crunching but not bending. They laughed loudly, even though it kind of hurt.

"This is amazing!" Akihito laughed as he pulled his chair towards the end of the hall. "What is this called again?"

"Jousting," she was lucky and had a motor. Not fair. But then again, Akihito could use his legs. "Medieval Europeans used to do it."

"Kou and Takato would love this!" he giggled. Oh yeah, he was going to have so much fun with his friends. Back to the topic at hand, "Seriously. Ryu has everything he could ever want."

Hisana scrunched her face up. "Nu-uh!"

"He does," the photographer solemnly promised. "I swear."

"Not a flying car,"

"That's not a real thing!" his mouth dropped open.

She shrugged, and adjusted in her seat, readying for their next assault. "He still doesn't have one."

"He has a plane, so same thing."

They charged again. This time, Hisana's lance crumpled against his chest, tearing the cardboard and sending brown paper pieces into the air. She pouted and Akihito raised his hands in victory.

"Really though, I wish I could do something nice for your dad," he sighed. His victorious lance clattered to the floor as Akihito rubbed his face. "Last year, I got him a tie, and that's so boring. I want to do something special."

Her eyes glistened as they narrowed. Akihito was stunned by how much she resembled Asami. It was a look he had seen on the fixer's face a thousand times. "If you say sex, I'm going to vomit. And I won't clean it up," she threatened.

He chuckled uncomfortably. Hisana had been very accepting of their relationship, but balked at anything physical. It made Akihito uncomfortable. "Does it really freak you out, your dad and me?" After all, he was only four years older than Hisana. It was natural for her to have some aversion, right? Plus, she was a very traditional person. Those kinds of people tended to frown at homosexual relationships.

Her eyes widened. "Yes!" she exclaimed. His heart fell into his stomach. "I mean, think about your parents doing it! It's gross. Now, you and Dad don't have sex. I came from a stork. End of story," she made a slashing movement with her hand. "No sex."

Parents. His heart always fluttered when she said that. She had taken to calling him 'Mom'. The first time it happened, he thought she was making fun of him. Now, he knew it was her way of accepting him into the family.

"If I could at least make him a cake or something," he switched topics for her sake. She was looking decidedly green. "Unlike you, he doesn't like sweets." Hisana was like Aki. She'd eat any chocolate she could get her hands on.

"Just make him a peanut butter almond cake," Hisana shrugged. "Do you think I can push a broom with this thing, or should I just wait for Kirishima?" she stared hard at the mess on the floor.

"A what?" he cried.

"A broom," Hisana snorted. "The thing people used before the vacuum."

"No! No! No!" the photographer shook his head, aghast. "The cake! You mean Ryu will actually eat cake and not look like he just put something sour in his mouth?!"

"Well…yeah," his daughter shrugged. "My grandmother used to make them for him. It's more tangy and salty than sweet."

Sweet mother of all that was holy. He was going to make his bastard of a lover a birthday cake. A real one. And Ryu was going to like it!

***Sunshine***

A/N:

Hopefully everyone in the northeast of the United States is hunkered down. The news called it something akin to a snow hurricane, so everyone be safe!

Thank you for all of yours reviews, bookmarks, favs, kudos, and follows. You all are amazing and I am so glad that you have enjoyed this fic! It's the penultimate chapter, guys. We're almost done!