As Sho paced across the earthy rainbow hues of the teak hardwood floor, he tossed back his third mojito of the evening in an attempt to drown his frayed nerves in minty rum-soaked bliss. It was having the opposite effect.
"Damn, I knew I should've paired it with a smoke," he grumbled.
"If Akemi were here, she's day neither is good for me." The young man paused along his well-worn path to offer a glance at the high, vaulted ceiling as though peering through the layers of wood, ventilation, and asphalt.
"And I'd be right," came familiar feminine tones from directly behind him.
Sho felt the glass slip from his hand as he startled, but managed to catch it with his opposite hand before whirling towards his visitor.
"Ooh, nice reflexes."
Akemi was standing over a small puddle of sloshed alcohol, wearing that sexy black suit again. He inhaled sharply and shuffled slowly closer, dragging his feet heavily against the floor with each step.
"Sho?" The young man remained silent and Akemi drew back half a step.
He lunged forward, wrapping around her strong, slender frame like an algae-covered sloth on a tree, forcing them to the floor as he buried his head into her bosom before drawing back to look at her, eyes as wide and as blue as the expanse of the sky. She felt an ember of warmth ignite in her heart at the depth of hid concern.
"Are these the only things you missed?" she playfully waved a hand towards her chest.
A choked laugh managed to eke through his airways, exiting as a sob. There was a bandage over her right eye and another peeked out from underneath the sleeve of her blouse.
"What happened to you Akemi?" His voice was a whisper dripping with concern.
She brushed his hair out of his eyes and planted a kiss on the middle of his forehead before rolling off him to a sit beside his supine body. The capable woman tucked her knees into her chest and looked at him through shadowed hazel eyes. "Your grandfather sent someone after me this morning."
Sho's face turned to stone. "I thought it must be something like that."
"Seems the Mikado intended to rid himself of both thorns in his side at the same time. Kyoko got the crazed serial killer and I had to deal with one of Hayate's black lightning minions trying to slit my throat in my sleep." She traced the taped gauze on her face. "Came close," she admitted, "but, as you can see, I evaded him. And long enough to snag one of my go-bags before escaping. Figured it would be wise to lie low for a while," she smiled wryly for moment before sobering. "I'm sorry I couldn't reach out. The old phone was the first thing to go, and I know you are often being watched so I waited."
Sho was quiet with a far-off look that morphed into a decidedly smug smile. "Ojiisan must be so pissed at being out maneuvered." Her answering smile was a touch vicious. "It is likely I am being watched, but I managed to slip away for a while this afternoon- with help."
"Help?"
"FBI."
The corporate spy pursed her lips and nodded.
"Agent Rick Schnee is a close friend of Kyoko's boyfriend."
Akemi had discovered Kuon Hizuri's ties to that particular agent after diving into the model's past. Apparently Sho hasn't heard the happy news regarding Kuon and Kyoko yet either, Akemi thought. She didn't feel it was her place to tell him, however.
"I see."
"Agent Schnee took Kyoko's testimony of the attack as well as the evidence you gave her about Saena's murder. Apparently Kyoko witnessed what happened to her mother, but had been repressing it all this time. I didn't know." Sho slowly shook his head in dismay. "I also thought we'd all work together, but Kyoko and Kuon informed me it was best to keep anything we're planning private. At least for now," Sho shrugged.
Akemi nodded, understanding immediately. The Fourth Amendment, which deals with the rights of privacy of individuals as well search and seizure policies for the executive branches of the government, allowed certain behavior for citizen's acting on their own versus operating under the direction of the government.
Sho swallowed hard and his voice dropped low. "I gave my statement too. That should be enough probable cause for a raid or arrest alone, but I know those things take time. He's trying to work out a deal on my behalf."
Akemi gave Sho a long, level look. "Does Hayate suspect your involvement at all?"
"What involvement?" he flashed her an innocent smile before going silent for a couple heartbeats. "He might. You know he warned me off allowing my emotions to compromise me. I've probably already crossed the line in showing concern for Kyoko's well-being. I think he preferred it when I didn't give a damn. Like him."
She made a small humming noise. "So what happens to you? You go down for manslaughter?"
"What, you moonlight as a lawyer too?"
"I don't have quite that many eggs in differing baskets."
"Ha. And here I thought you could do anything."
"Let's just assume the worst then and plan to account for various scenarios. Please text Mr. Hizuri and ask them to meet you here tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow? Why not tonight?"
Akemi moved astride him and ran a hand under his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his toned abdomen. "Because I want all of you tonight." Because I'm not sure how much time either of us have. Because I doubt you'd be able to contact those two right now anyway.
Sho answered with a grin and flipped her onto her back.
Across town Hayate Fuwa was indeed, furious.
As a figure knelt before him contritely uttering words that of defeat, the Mikado felt a torrent of fury rise from that deep well inside where it had lain dormant for so long. It seeped through his pores like a mist, an invisible second skin. How many years had it been since he'd endured failure? And twice in a single day?
Hayate rose from his seat as a king does from his throne, striding towards the small table housing a Meiji era vase with the graceful confidence only the powerful can afford while his kuroi inazuma servant trembled faintly under his black garments. The Fuwa elder set the vase aside, gripped the table at the base and, with a thrust of his arm, propelled the object like a bullet.
The windows of the thirty story office building were all laminated glass, meaning no matter how much abuse they were dealt, they wouldn't break. Theoretically. This was as much to keep the employees from leaping to their doom, though Fuwa Hospitality Group hadn't actually had anyone try yet, as it was to prevent Hayate Fuwa from tossing incompetent fools to the earth; returning them to the dirt in which they were meant to wallow.
The table splintered as it rebounded off the glass, falling to the floor in a hail of wooden shards and dust.
"Leave," the Fuwa elder growled as he turned his back to his subordinate. "Before I offer you the same treatment."
=x=x=x=
Kyoko stepped into the Executive elevator exclusively servicing the top four floors of the Fuwa Hospitality corporate building. She stood with her usual graceful poise, hands clasped in front of her body, with the right obscuring the left. The latter formed a white-knuckled fist as the security guard swiped his access card through the reader, beginning their ascent.
Only two people in the building knew Kyoko was technically family to the CEO. It was an odd occurrence for a young female to be granted an audience with the hotel mogul. Her escort, a burly guy in his mid-thirties wearing a black suit and earpiece, kept eying her through sideways glances that spoke volumes about his assumptions. Wrong ones that were not helping Kyoko feel any better about present circumstances. But weakness has no place in a lion's den. Steeling her nerves, Kyoko leveled frosty golden eyes at the security guard and he straightened, averting his gaze just as a pleasant, robotic female voice announced their arrival at the thirtieth floor.
The guard's shoulders were stiff and his face inscrutable when he led the way to the office, Kyoko trailing a touch behind with gritted teeth and limp-noodle legs she willed forward with each step. It felt like trudging through two feet of snow. They moved through a large secretarial office, stopping at what was obviously a waiting area beside a set of beautifully carved mahogany French doors depicting Japanese dragons. Her escort motioned for her to take a seat on a beige sofa as he exchanged words with a spindly man who promptly spoke in low tones to the landline unit on his desk. Kyoko sat, bouncing one ankle on the floor like a kid enduring a long sermon, knee bobbing up and down rapidly. The assistant seemed to be waiting for a response from the CEO. Kyoko stilled her leg. Finally, the desk drone nodded to security who, in turn, motioned to the young woman.
The butterflies in Kyoko's stomach fluttered their wings in time with her escalated heartbeat as the dragons drew apart, permitting entrance to Ojii-san's most inner sanctum. A myriad of scents wafted through the air, tingling the young chef's nose and folding around her like a blanket. Cedar trees, coffee, and spice. Furniture polish and cologne. Aromatics of wealth emanating from the three suits lounging with the CEO on whiskey-colored leather, brandishing Davidoff Yamasá cigars and matching drinks.
"That will be all." Hayate banished them with a wave, signaling a reluctant chorus of ice when the men set their unfinished glasses of Macallan on the center table before leaving. The Fuwa elder wore that kind grandfatherly mask he so often donned for the public dealings as he glanced in Kyoko's direction. On the way to the corporate building she'd stopped at a red light (one of many) along the Metro 460 route and happened to glance over. Three generations sat together on a bench under the shade of a large black walnut tree. The eldest gentleman with hair turned more salt than pepper bounced a young girl on his knee, his delighted facial lines juxtaposing adorably with the girl's toothy, baby-faced joy. In a blink the men were gone and the illusion with them. She felt like she'd choked down a glass of spent coffee grounds.
Kyoko knew most adopted children weren't taken in by wealthy families. Knew she wanted for nothing, physically, growing up. Her adoptive parents were kindly, though a little distant, but she understood they'd tried. She just carried no Fuwa blood. She had all the latest electronic gadgets, a fancy ride, training and education. She was well on her way to her dream job. Logically, she knew she had so many positives in her life compared to when she was a little girl, often pawned off by a mother who preferred a bottle or a court case to the company of her only daughter.
But they'd come as a thief in the night, snuffing out all their potentials as easily as extinguishing a candlelight flame. Fuwa blood- that was also apparently responsible for taking countless lives. Kyoko schooled her face into polite neutrality and stopped staring at the floor, raising her eyes to meet his smothering gaze.
"Good afternoon, Grandfather. I'm surprised you agreed to see me." She stood as straight and as tall has her petite frame would allow.
Hayate Fuwa's upper lip curled as his eyes swept over her, taking in her attire, the ring sparkling under the bright recessed LED lights. The uncovered bruising on her neck, macabre splashes of color on the canvas of her skin. Kyoko widened her smile, flashing teeth. She knew she'd gone off script, but she couldn't help herself. She felt a bit...feral. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a tube of vanilla chapstick and casually ran the cream over her lips. A loud pop sounded as she smacked them together and the Mikado's mouth tightened as he continued staring her down. She held her ground and stared back- a wildcat staring down a dire wolf.
She could see the moment he came to a decision by the shifting in his eyes, like a theatre curtain being pulled back. He motioned towards the recently vacated sitting area. Kyoko chose the seat opposite his own.
"I could hardly deny you when you wished to speak regarding a business proposal requiring access to your family inheritance." Kyoko didn't miss the underlined word in his otherwise amicable sentence. He went to the minibar and extracted several small cubes with miniature silver tongs before pouring himself a three hundred dollar glass. Her eyes were drawn to the icy white sheen of a long, smooth object resting on mounted wall display nearby. A flawless and translucent piece from a bygone era- a shaku. "But first, it would seem congratulations are in order," he continued and she dragged her eyes back to him. He was perfectly at ease, content to show his back to her.
"On my engagement? Or my survival?"
His laughter rang out, as full bodied as the alcohol swirling in his tumbler. "Both."
He came back with an additional drink and sat at the edge of the chair, pushing the beverage towards her slowly. Kyoko watched as the glass slid across the tabletop, leaving a trail of condensation in its wake. Like a slug. "Root beer." It had been a favorited luxury if hers as a young girl, something Naoki and Yayoi offered as a reward or in celebration.
"No thank you, grandfather. I learned that soda isn't good for me long ago."
"It won't harm you to have a little now and then." Kyoko worked to keep her face impassive. "In the business world it is seen as impolite to force ones associate to drink alone."
"Very well," she conceded, taking a little sip. The pleasant sugary sweetness easily rolled over her tongue and down her throat, but a bitter aftertaste remained.
Hayate offered her a bland smile. "Now, tell me about this proposition of yours." He leaned back into his seat, resting his right ankle on his left thigh. The stripes on his Pantherella socks playfully peeked out from his crossed ankle, terribly at odds with the male sitting before her.
Kyoko leaned forward in her seat and rested her palms on her knees. "I want to open my own restaurant specializing in a fusion of Kyoto and Italian cuisine." The Fuwa elder cocked his head to one side. "But what I really want," her voice bit hard, lined with steel teeth, "is to know why."
Her grandfather took a deep drink, tipping his head back far enough to be blinded by the bright lights ensconced above. His eyes remained closed and a soft sigh escaped his lips before he opened them again and stared at her with dead gray eyes. "You desire to know why?"
Her hands tightened on her knees, but she didn't falter. "Why did you kill my mother?"
He leaned forward. "That is a most ungracious accusation, particularly when aimed at a family member." There was a tension in his body now like a coiled spring.
"I have evidence."
"Evidence, you say. That is interesting. Most interesting indeed."
Suddenly, she was above the floor, toes just barely touching. Her golden eyes went wide in shock. She hadn't seen him move at all. He squeezed and she heard the distinctive sounds of electronics breaking. All the while he never stopped looking directly into her eyes and she wanted so desperately to close her own, but forced herself to keep looking into the abyss, even as it threatened to suck her in.
"Foolish girl," he spoke with quiet deathly calm as he dropped her back into her seat and sat on the table's edge. "Your paltry attempts will lead you nowhere. You would do well to remember I mastered this game long ago."
Kyoko shakily stood up and walked over to the mini bar, breathing deeply to recompose herself. His eyes bore into her back like a heavy weight. She gently picked up the shaku, a scepter those of imperial lineage or royalty would carry as symbols of power. It was even more gorgeous up close and easily the most valuable item she'd ever touched. White jadeite. "This is a beautiful piece." She raised her eyes back to his face to see him watching her through narrowed slits. "You would do well, Grandfather, to remember that lives are not a game." And before he could realize what she was about to do, she brought the shaku down over her knee, snapping it half. The pieces fell, glimmering in the bright lighting like broken icicles before clattering to the floor. She turned and carefully walked towards the door to see herself out, offering one final bit of parting wisdom. "And empires fall."