STORY WARNINGS:
– This is Yaoi – Male/Male.
– Rating: Mature. ADULTS ONLY. Contains graphic violence, some coarse language, explicit sexual content both consensual/non-consensual, forced/willing submission, light bondage.
A/N: I'm so sorry... I wasn't being mean on purpose ending the chapter that way but that was the timeline so it had to go together! We can't lose sight of who these two are – it's not going to be plain sailing when sitting on opposite sides of the fence. I'm pouring my heart and soul into this, it'll mean a lot if you stay with me and see where it goes!
We have a sort of two parter coming up now. Hope you enjoy this first part. ^_^
~ Nyx ~
DISCLAIMER: The Finder series and all recognisable characters belong to Yamane Ayano sensei.
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Chapter 5
Friday.
"Oh, good morning, Takaba," Ogawa greeted Akihito as they arrived at the entrance of Sion Global at precisely the same time by some strange coincidence.
"Morning."
Ogawa glanced aside at him as they joined the huddle of employees shuffling through the bottleneck. "I hope you behaved yourself after you were so rude to Asami-sama last night."
Akihito blanched a bit, his expression tight. "I'm here, aren't I? He can't have been that mad."
"Well, I am. I know you have your own way of dealing with people but that was no way to address the CEO." They separated as they trundled through the revolving doors, then Ogawa waited for Akihito to come through. "What did he want you for, anyway?"
"Just more computer stuff," Akihito mumbled, his eyes anxiously flickering around them. Despite the uncomfortable line of questioning, he stuck close to his boss. "He uh... there were some files he couldn't access."
"I hope you retrieved them for him?"
Akihito choked a cough. "It's all sorted."
Ogawa didn't seem to notice that Akihito was getting paler and paler. He nodded his balding head, satisfied that they weren't going to be in trouble with the big boss that everyone was so in awe of. He rattled on about something but Akihito wasn't listening, hiding in his boss' shadow until they reached the IT office when he rushed to his desk.
Akihito had spent most of the rest of the previous night lying awake on his bedroom floor, letting Kou's snoring from the bed wash over him.
It wasn't rocket science. It was glaringly obvious that he was totally and utterly conflicted. Never once had he hesitated to drag skeletons out of the closets of the rich and powerful before, to expose them to the world and serve them their comeuppance. But here was Asami, committing murder in cold blood, and the thought of the footage going viral made Akihito feel physically sick.
Surely it couldn't simply be because the bastard was insanely hot. Or because Akihito had jacked off thinking about him because Asami had stirred him up so much. Or because there had been moments, as surreal as it was, if he was brutally honest with himself, when Akihito hadn't actually minded Asami hovering as he worked, the pervading presence quietly and reassuringly supportive...
In the midst of all his confusion there were two certainties. Being close to Asami was making Akihito compromise himself and the very principle that drove him, his – until now – tireless pursuit of truth. Less than a week since meeting in person, Akihito was already procrastinating on one of the biggest breaking news headlines of the year. And when the story broke – because Akihito couldn't possibly sit on something this huge, he really couldn't... surely he couldn't...? – Asami would know where it came from and Akihito would be dead.
Would he be found mysteriously dead somewhere, like the four men at the docks reported on the news that morning? Apparently the former yakuza enforcers had been crushed in a freak accident, when a crane malfunction had dropped the very cargo shipping container in which they'd been trafficking underage girls right on top of them. Akihito's gut had squeezed in that way that it did sometimes, and he would have bet his bottom dollar that it was Asami's doing. It had left him even more confused, shocked by such grisly measures but unable to condemn it when so many girls had been saved from a horrific fate.
Akihito needed distance. And fast.
He spent the day working on a security patch, wound Mitarai up, and tried to be his usual blunt and cheerful and inappropriately unprofessional self. It was business as usual, everything as normal as possible, absolutely nothing to tip Asami off that there was anything out of the ordinary. Not until it was too late.
He hardly swallowed any of his lunch, too busy checking around the staff canteen, keeping an anxious eye out for any men in black suits. Back at his desk, he counted down the seconds to put his plan in motion. He was so focused on his task that he jumped when his desk phone rang.
"IT," he answered as he tried to calm his thumping heart back down.
"Aki-kun?"
He sat up straighter. "Risa-san? What are you doing calling me here?" In his shock, he hadn't checked the phone display. It was an external number.
"Oh, I'm so glad I got through to you. You were so preoccupied last night and your phone's off, I was worried."
He sighed. "It's just work, don't worry about it." Knowing he was planning to break up with her, he wished that she wouldn't be so kind. "You know how it gets sometimes."
"How are things looking today?" she asked with concern.
"It seems ok for now." He cleared his throat. "Um, look, Risa-san, there's something I want to talk to you about tonight, if we can meet up –"
"Oh, me too! It's about our anniversary, right?"
"Huh?" Akihito drew a complete blank.
Risa giggled. He could imagine her flicking her silky hair over her shoulder. "Oh, sorry! Yes, forget I said anything. But I was thinking the same, if we can celebrate... Somewhere nice, being six months and all... But it's fine! I'll be totally surprised wherever you decide. I'll just be ready for a perfectly normal evening out from 7.30." More giggling. "I'm totally in the dark! I'll see you later!"
Akihito sat there listening to the dial tone for several seconds. He could feel a headache coming on. They'd been dating for six months? He didn't know what had brought on her recent bout of keenness, but he could hardly break up with her on their six month anniversary when she was so excited...
Akihito spent the next ten minutes trying to make dinner reservations, but all the classy places he knew she liked were fully booked so last minute. He would have carried on making calls but he knew he had to get back to work and abandon the idea when Mitarai glanced over for the second time. Maybe it was for the best.
An hour later, Mitarai went for a comfort break, which was the trigger to commence Operation Extraction. Akihito took a fortifying breath and punched the number into his desk phone before he could lose his nerve.
"Good afternoon, Takaba-san."
Even though he'd steeled himself, Akihito still froze at the voice. Kirishima, who'd stood by as Asami shot the beaten up man...
"Afternoon," Akihito choked out. "Asami wanted me to check in with him today, is he around?"
Ogawa was glaring at him at his lack of honorific, but normal was key. He'd never been one of those ass kissers flitting around Asami, he couldn't start now.
"Yes, Asami-sama mentioned it," Kirishima replied, picking up on the same and emphasising his point. "But you've left it rather late in the day now, he is out for meetings and is unavailable until 6 pm. You may –"
"Ok, fine," Akihito broke in. "Later then." He hung up.
Ogawa was looking at him curiously.
Akihito tried to keep a straight face. "So I need to head up later. Do you mind if I head home straight after?"
Luckily, Ogawa bought it. "No problem. Just don't do anything to annoy him, ok?"
"Yeah, yeah," Akihito waved off before he ducked his head back to the screen.
The setup for Operation Extraction was complete. Mitara returned, none the wiser. Akihito didn't need his aggravation and hundred questions today. He started counting down the minutes until the next phase of the plan.
His desk phone startled him again a second time. He glanced at the clock – only 4.45pm, not quite time yet.
"IT."
"This is the maître d' of the Hibiscus. May I please speak to Takaba Akihito sama."
It took a few seconds to pull his head out of his risky plan and wonder why a head waiter might be calling him. "I'm Takaba."
"Please accept my apologies for disturbing you. I understand from our sister restaurant, the East and West, that we had to disappoint you in your inquiries after dinner reservations this evening. We are ever so sorry about this and I wondered if I might be permitted to offer you our establishment, the Hibiscus, as an alternative?"
"Uh... Sorry, just a sec." Akihito scrambled to run a search on the restaurant. "It's kind of you to call me about this," he said as he stalled for time. The Hibiscus was even more high end than the East and West, likely to be considerably out of his price bracket, usually fully booked nine months in advance.
"It's the least we can do for our valued patrons. We have a very special table for two with excellent views of Minato available at 8.30, if that might be convenient, sir?"
"Uh, yes. Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you. Goodbye."
Akihito hung up quietly. His life was over anyway. Would it be so terrible if he enjoyed an evening he couldn't afford with the girlfriend he hadn't broken up with yet? It was a melancholic thought and he almost missed it when the clock turned 5.
He hurriedly packed his things up and breezed out. "Gotta go!"
"Do a good job!" Ogawa yelled after him.
As he legged it up the stairs, he could hear Mitarai start up and Ogawa trying to calm him down. It was so much easier to let his boss handle his prickly colleague.
Akihito's nerves were all in tatters by the time he reached floor 32, but he grasped at whatever courage he could. After dropping his rucksack in the elevator doorway to block the sensor and stop it from closing, he marched down the corridor.
Kirishima looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "I told you he's in meetings until 6 –"
"Oh, he is? What a shame. Tell him I dropped by."
Akihito had given his word and so he'd come by Asami's office as promised. It wasn't his fault that Asami hadn't specified that the bastard had to be there for it to count.
Akihito was halfway back down the corridor before Kirishima recovered from his bizarre behaviour. Akihito dashed into the elevator, snatching up his bag as he went.
"Takaba!"
Akihito stood plastered against the back of the elevator car, transfixed at the glare levelled at him down the corridor as the doors closed between them. At that moment, Kirishima looked exactly as he had staring back in the grainy video.
Twenty minutes later saw Akihito barging into the office of his sentencing judge just before it closed, with an emergency petition for an immediate transfer of his community service order to another location. When he cited sexual harassment, using it to lend gravity to his request and blinking back tears that hadn't been too hard to conjure up after the emotional rollercoaster of the last twenty-four hours, the judge granted the immediate transfer. To Akihito's relief, when he'd pleaded to let the matter go as he didn't want to stir up a hornets' nest in the upper echelons of the powerful Sion Global, the judge had rather hastily agreed not to pursue a criminal investigation. The whole matter was kept under wraps in line with all of Akihito's other court records.
Operation Extraction was complete. Come Monday morning, Akihito would be long gone by the time Asami realised it. And the crime lord's world was going to come crashing down.
Akihito had dusted the cobwebs off the one suit he owned, but it couldn't hold a candle to the more formal three piece suits and double cuffs sported by most other diners. One of the most luxurious restaurants in Tokyo, the entire place exuded elegance and sophistication, from the delicate floral decorations and classy table settings to the stunning nightscape with Skytree and Tokyo Tower lit up outside of the 270 degree view to be enjoyed from individual armchairs.
Risa was preening. Akihito couldn't begrudge her, whatever flailing emotions he was trying to mask, his usual discomfort in such surroundings aggravated worse than usual this evening. She was all sweet and fun, how she'd been when Akihito had first been drawn to her, and he thought that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad way to spend what could very well be their last evening together. Attendants took their coats, and she sashayed after the maître d' who personally showed them to their table and explained the specials that evening. There were no prices on the menu and Risa didn't ask. Neither did Akihito. He was going to max out all his credit cards and hope for the best.
"Do you remember when we first met?" Risa asked over their glasses of bubbly.
Akihito grinned. "How could I forget? I sometimes still wake up with nightmares of that slap."
She laughed and swatted playfully at him.
They had been queuing at Starbucks when she'd mistaken him for the one who had just groped her. Fortunately several witnesses cleared up the fact that it was the guy who had just ran out of the shop rather than Akihito who still stood there stunned from the sudden introduction to her palm, and she'd bought him a coffee to apologise.
"I can't believe it's been six months. Thank goodness for that pervert, huh? Otherwise we might never have met."
"I suppose, silver lining and all that."
Risa held her flute aloft. "Well, Aki-kun, you've outdone yourself. This place is absolutely amazing."
He forced a smile, although he wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to pull this off either.
She twirled the champagne between her fingers, leaning her chin in an elegant hand. "I know you don't like to mention the C word until we're at least in November, but it's only two months away now. It'll be Christmas soon. Do you know if there's a Christmas party being held at your office?"
A memory hit him. It was over that first coffee that she'd bought him, when they'd chatted benignly about the weather and what a pleasant café it was and wasn't the ever increasing range of coffees getting a bit excessive, when talk turned to their jobs. It was when Akihito had mentioned doing occasional work for some big global names that she'd leaned forwards, obviously intrigued.
Over the past few months he'd often wondered why someone like her – beautiful, put together, and obviously enjoying the finer things in life – would date a poor computer guy like him who was three years her junior. They had a good time together and things seemed to go well enough in the bedroom too, but he'd often been confused by her fluctuating levels of keenness. Her most recent spell of attentiveness had begun when she learned that he was working at Sion Global and this question now, posed so innocently over champagne in this luxurious restaurant, made his lips twist in a wry smile that held little humour.
"Of course, the Christmas party. At Sion. Rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful." He gulped down half of his champagne in one go as that old knot in his gut clenched. Maybe he was just being cynical but he couldn't deny his suspicions.
Before he could say another word, a murmur rose about the entrance of the restaurant. The maître d' and several attendants and waiters all flocked forwards as fast as decorum would allow, all bobbing heads and wide smiles. Akihito glanced over –
All his laboriously laid down pretence at normality vanished in a heartbeat as Asami swept into the establishment.
The woman on Asami's arm was svelte and sinuous, so beautiful that she practically glowed. She was one of those people whose age was impossible to guess beyond middle-aged maturity. Gliding with effortless grace in a figure-hugging, floor-trailing midnight blue lace dress alongside the flawless sculpture that was Asami, the couple made everyone stop in their tracks and look twice. Or three times. Or four times... Oh, who were they kidding, everyone was staring outright and trying their damnedest not to drool.
Asami clearly knew many of the other patrons, or at least was recognised by them, as many rose to bow respectfully as he passed by. But he only returned curt nods, not stopping for conversation until he had solicitously seated his madonna at their table. Leaning down briefly to whisper in her ear, earning a breathtaking indulgent half-smile in return, he turned and made a beeline for Akihito.
Akihito sat petrified, his head an endless litany of bullet in the head – come by the office – bullet in the head – come by the office... His body locked up, he couldn't move, couldn't stand, couldn't run. Asami didn't seem fazed. He loomed beside Akihito and gripped his trembling shoulder in a show of camaraderie. The other diners glanced over, curious and more than a little green to see who it was that had been singled out for this honour of Asami gracing their table.
"Akihito, what a small world to bump into you here."
The mocking tone, that smirk – Akihito knew then without a doubt that Asami had orchestrated the whole thing. How did he know?... Of course, Akihito had used his desk phone. He'd never felt more of an idiot. And what was with using his first name still?
Asami didn't wait for Akihito to find his tongue. He turned to Risa, oozing charm. "Forgive me for intruding on your private evening. I am Asami Ryuichi."
And there it was. The swoon. Everyone had heard of the billionaire, the powerful business tycoon, and Akihito knew the moment Risa was entirely lost to him. Not that it would have mattered in the long run, but still... She fluttered her eyelashes and angled her head coquettishly and introduced herself as Akihito's 'close friend'. So much for thanking the pervert groper. Or maybe she'd be doubly grateful now, having led to this moment when she was introduced to the all powerful – and very lethal – Asami Ryuichi.
That reminder put strength back in Akihito's limbs. However ambitious Risa was, however she might have used Akihito, she didn't deserve to be put in danger.
Akihito stood, grasped Asami's hand and squeezed the elbow in a move he'd never have dared in a million years had he not already been knocking on death's door himself and now trying to protect Risa.
"We appreciate you stopping by, Asami-sama. I do hope you enjoy your evening."
Dark dragon eyes glinted and Akihito almost lost his nerve. Almost. But the very real threat to Risa made him stronger than anyone gave him credit for and he held firm to the dismissal. He nudged away the elbow and tried to pull his hand free, but instead Asami drew him closer with it and clapped him on the shoulder with his free hand. The squeeze this time wasn't so gentle, and Akihito found himself masking a wince.
"Likewise, Akihito," Asami returned pleasantly. Then, heedless of standing in full view of the entire restaurant, Asami drew him closer still until his lips were whispering directly in Akihito's ear, his hushed words loaded with dark promise. "You're just begging to be punished for that stunt you pulled this afternoon."
Akihito's mind blanked. Fear – and that confusing, sizzling surge of heat – bolted down his spine.
Asami released him, his expression mild but his gaze flashing with anger or hunger, or perhaps both, Akihito couldn't tell. Long, elegant fingers summoned the maître d', and Asami muttered something briefly to him under his breath before sending the bowing man off again.
"Enjoy your evening," Asami nodded to them before returning to his table.
Risa was too absorbed with the newfound knowledge that Akihito was personally acquainted with the Asami Ryuichi, and on a first name basis to boot, to notice that he wasn't himself. Akihito barely tasted his food as he went through the motions of finishing the meal. Most of his energy was focused on ignoring Asami's lady friend whom Risa recognised as the internationally renowned fashion designer Oda Hazumi and not seeing how well the two seemed to know each other, communicating in that easy, non-verbal way that only came with close familiarity. He somehow evaded Risa's questions with ever mounting turmoil until she latched herself onto the idea of seeing Asami again at the supposed Christmas party that she had invited herself to. When Akihito asked for the bill, only to be informed by the maître d' that their account was being taken care of by Asami-sama, it was the final straw.
Akihito rushed Risa out of the restaurant, dragging her away before she could go and thank Asami.
"Aki, what on Earth?" Risa cried furiously, shivering in the chilly air and hurriedly pulling her coat on. He'd bundled her out too fast to let her put it on inside.
Akihito circled the modern building, pushing past the evening partygoers and the occasional men and women in their suits only just heading home from work. He marched on, he needed space, to get away, to find somewhere quiet... He found himself in the deserted alley behind the restaurant and clutched his hair and gave vent to all his turmoil of emotions as he screamed into the sky.
His ringing, anguished roar finally seemed to make Risa notice how agitated he was.
"Aki-kun?" Her voice was tentative this time. "What's wrong?"
He couldn't tell her. How could he? That would surely put that bullet in her head that he hadn't been able to stop replaying in his mind over and over again since he'd seen that shaky, grainy footage.
An ominous cloud hung over his own life, but there was something he could do for Risa, even amidst the jumbled up smells of the alley, the car fumes, just the faintest whiffs of gone-off food.
"I shouldn't have brought you to dinner tonight."
"What? Why?"
"I should have told you from the start."
A creeping sense of unease creased Risa's brow. "Told me what?"
"I'm sorry, Risa-san," Akihito shook his his head. "I can't do this anymore. We –"
"Freeze!"
The shout came from behind them. Akihito whipped around despite the command, to find himself staring at a man in a balaclava and a gleaming, serrated, six-inch blade.
They raised their hands, Risa gasping.
Akihito subconsciously stepped in front of her. "Hey, man, take it easy."
"Don't move!" The knife waved perilously towards them. The man was clearly agitated but not drunk, his steps were steady as he came closer. He was only a few metres away.
"Ok!" Akihito reassured. "Ok," he repeated more quietly, "we're not moving. Just tell us what you want."
"Your money! And all your jewellery!"
"You got it. I'm just reaching for my wallet," he explained as he slowly pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it at the man's feet. "Here."
"Your necklace and rings, bitch! Hand them over!"
Nothing happened. Akihito glanced over his shoulder, only to find Risa not looking as frightened as he would have expected. Her hands were up, but she was frowning, thinking hard.
"Risa-san, what are you doing?" Akihito asked, bewildered.
"He only has a knife," she whispered. "We can outrun him."
Maybe the adrenaline was getting to her, but she wasn't anywhere near as quiet as she should have been saying something like that.
The man clearly heard, and in the blink of an eye the whole volatile situation escalated out of control. "So that's what you think, is it?"
He reached into the back of his waistband and, to their horror, swapped the knife for a gun.
Short and stunted, Akihito thought it might be a snub-nosed revolver, not that he knew anything about firearms.
Akihito's heart was trying to hammer its way out of his ribcage, and Risa finally seemed to take the man seriously too. But not in the way Akihito expected.
"This is only cheap stuff!" Risa argued with the armed man. "You've got his money, why do you need this?"
"What are you doing?" Akihito hissed in disbelief.
"I don't care! Hand them over! Now!" The mugger strode forwards and abruptly jabbed the barrel of the gun so hard into Akihito's temple that it forced his head at an angle.
Akihito's entire world zeroed down to that cold, hard jab of pressure beside his eye.
"Hand them over or he's dead!"
Akihito didn't know how long they stood there, the gun pressed to his head, the blood rushing like a torrent in his ears, his breath shallow and shaking and not enough and too much at the same time. He was getting light-headed, shadows crowding in and spots dotting his vision, when a lazy, indifferent drawl cut through it all.
"Is that you making all that racket, Akihito? You're disturbing my dinner."
Akihito never thought there would come a day when relief was his overarching reaction to hearing that velvet baritone. It was as though firm ground had suddenly been paved for his panic-addled mind to stand on, restoring some measure of rationality.
"Stay back!" Clearly recognising the bigger threat, the mugger pulled Akihito in front of him as a shield, an arm wrapped around his neck, with the gun still digging into his temple. The woolly balaclava was rough against his ear.
Akihito stared desperately at Asami's silhouette that had emerged from the back door of the restaurant. What was he doing out here? Akihito found himself about to beg, Please on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he knew on an instinctive level that Asami was his only hope here, despite what Akihito knew of him. Or perhaps because of it.
The mugger was still playing tough. "Give me your money or this one gets it," he growled.
Asami made a show of patting down his pockets. "It seems I left my wallet inside," he observed, sounding totally unconcerned. He waved a hand, jingling his watch. "But how about Rotonde de Cartier?"
"What?" the mugger gruffed.
"Cartier. You can sell it and buy several Rolexes with it."
"Fine. Drop it and walk away."
"Are you trying to devalue it? Scratches are costly." Asami leisurely descended the three steps from the doorway as he unbuckled his watch. "Here."
Even Akihito was fooled. Asami appeared entirely nonchalant standing there, sideways on to them, dangling the watch from the tips of an outstretched hand. The mugger inched forward, keeping his grip tight on Akihito until he shuffled them within reach, then snatched for the watch –
It was a blur.
Asami barrelled at them, knocking the gun clear from Akihito's head and Akihito clear from the masked man, hauling him aside in the circle of strong arms. The gun went off, the bullet flying astray, as two men flew at the mugger from out of nowhere.
Akihito didn't hear the expensive watch clattering away or the thudding of fists on flesh. He didn't hear the mugger screaming obscenities and grunting in pain, or the police sirens in the distance. His ear was ringing, his head was pounding, and all he could do was stare at the soft Italian wool crushed within his trembling, white-knuckled grasp.
