Raining
Sequel to: Street of Dreams
I Want Us To Be A Family Series
Written by: chochowilliams
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Summary: There was one woman at the press conference that refused to leave well enough alone. Two years later, she's back and causing trouble. She's determined to prove that Aizawa isn't the biological father of little Takanori. What if she's right?
Warning: AU, Angst, Drama, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fantasy, M-Preg, Language, M/M, Hentai, OCs, OOC, Hermaphrodites (referred to as "Neutrals"), Christian Extremist POV, Bashing
Pairings: Shuichi/Eiri, Ryuichi/Tatsuha, one-sided Eiri/Ayaka, Mentioned: Shuichi/Taki & Shuichi/OMC
Inserts: None
A/N: Enjoy!
oOo
Chapter 7: The Longest Weekend Ever
Uesugi-Sakuma Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan
Tatsuha was running a comb through his hair when Ryuichi appeared in the doorway behind him. "Hey," he grinned at the other man's reflection in the mirror. "Ready to go?" Setting down his comb, he turned around.
Seeing as both Nittle Grasper and Bad Luck were in-between albums, Shuichi decided it would be a wonderful idea if everyone were to "volunteer" their time to help move him and little Takanori from the apartment he'd been renting in Bunkyo-ku for the last six months and back into Eiri's condominium here in Chiyoda.
Of course, Tohma had bowed out as he claimed to have "meetings" all weekend. That wasn't unusual in and of itself as he was not only the producer for but also an instrumental member of the most popular band in Japan. Not to mention he had a record company as well as several other ventures, which included a gay nightclub in Kyoto, to run. The man was busier than Saint Nick on Christmas Eve. But Tatsuha couldn't help wondering if that was the real reason the man declined the invite. He could not picture his brother-in-law doing such menial work as carrying boxes and furniture as if he were a professional mover. A blue-collar employee Tohma Seguchi was not. That was why he employed grunts.
Noriko decided to use her down time to take her husband and daughter camping so she was out of contact for at least another week.
As their father was feeling a little under the weather, Mika had also declined. She was back in Kyoto taking care of him.
Tatsuha spoke with his brother last night after Shuichi had called up to deliver the good news. Of course, Eiri did not come right out and say he was happy Shuichi was moving back home. Instead, his brother said, "I'd rather have a heart attack."
"C'mon Aniki. Admit you missed him," Tatsuha teased.
There was a snort. "Of course I did. He is my lil' fuck hole after all."
"Aniki!" That was definitely something he did not need or want to hear. "Must you be so crude?"
"Though," Eiri continued as if Tatsuha had not spoken, "it was too damn quiet around here."
Knowing his brother as he did, Tatsuha knew that was as close as he was ever going to get to ever hearing that Eiri Yuki missed Shuichi Shindou.
Back in the present, Tatsuha's grin faded as his husband remained too quiet. He was used to his husband moping about the house recently, but he seemed more distracted than anything, which in and of itself was not surprising given the turn of events as of late, but this was different. Ryuichi seemed more troubled.
"Ryu?" he called in concern.
He wondered what happened. Was Ryuichi worried about seeing his son? He could not blame him if that was the case. If their positions were reversed, he would be just as nervous. Shuichi could very well tell Ryuichi to fuck off. That would kill Ryuichi.
"What's up?"
Standing in the doorway of the master bedroom, Ryuichi stared blankly down at his bare feet. Wood flooring was under his heels while carpeting was under his toes.
"There's something I want to show you."
Tatsuha cocked his head. "What? Now?"
Ryuichi nodded. "It'll take a sec."
Tatsuha frowned in confusion.
oOo
Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan
There was utter chaos in the Shindou-Uesugi household.
Carrying a box that weighed twice as much as his son, Eiri staggered into the condominium with a sound curse as he tripped over a Thomas the Train toy that he had not seen until the last minute. Why it was sitting right out in the middle of the hallway he did not know. Muttering obscenities under his breath about a certain baka and his own stupid lack of control, the blond haired author followed the plastic runner that had been laid throughout the house. It made matters so much easier. Having to take one's shoes off upon entering the house just so boxes and furniture could be moved into their appropriate places and then having to put the shoes back on so that the trip could begin all over again was exasperating.
"Baka," he barked as he passed through the living room.
The door that led from the living room into a hall where the laundry room, bathroom and three bedrooms were located-including his office, little Takanori's bedroom and the nursery-had been propped open. Of course, several books of his-including his dictionary-were being used as the doorstop. Typical. The only books Shuichi owned were mangas. Not exactly heavy reading.
Two raven heads popped up over the back of the sofa. A set of violet eyes and hazel eyes just as golden as his own peered at him. "Yeah?"
Eiri sneered at the sight of his husband and their son. "Instead of stuffing your face with those damn pudding pops, why don't you make yourself useful and see if Fujisaki and Nakano need some help?"
"Can't," Shuichi said around what remained of said pudding pop. "Pregnant. Remember?"
Eiri snorted.
"Doctor's orders," Shuichi tossed over his shoulder as he turned back towards the television to finish watching Spongebob. "I have to take it easy."
Eiri rolled his eyes at his husband's back. They both knew that Shuichi followed the advice of his doctors whenever it suited him. Apparently, this was one of those times.
As he turned away, he caught sight of his son watching him. Like Shuichi, little Takanori was nearly completely covered in chocolate. He knew buying those damnedable things would come back to haunt him. So help them if they got chocolate all over his sofa. "What?"
Little Takanori smiled a wide chocolaty grin. The two year old jumped to his feet and began hopping up and down on the sofa cushions while trying to eat his pudding pop. It was a talent that he had yet to master. It was no wonder most of the treat was on his face.
"Get your son off the couch Shuichi," Eiri told the younger man as he carried the box into his son's room before his arms fell off. How many damn toys did one child need? Honestly. Most of the boxes were either Shuichi's clothes or little Takanori's toys.
"Sure, he's my son when it suits you," he heard Shuichi grumble.
Eiri chuckled despite having his own words tossed back at him. He set the box next to the others. Straightening, he stretched his arms over his head and arched his back first this way and then that. It cracked deliciously.
There was a loud clatter followed by cursing. Someone else must have tripped over little Takanori's toy train. Guess he should have moved it, huh? Oops.
"Language," Shuichi called out.
Eiri walked out of his son's bedroom and down the hall to the living room.
"Shu! A little help?"
Sounded like Nakano. It sounded as if he were a little stressed. Wonder why?
"Master bedroom," Shuichi tossed out without taking his eyes from the television screen.
Eiri chuckled lightly. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the doorframe and watched as Hiro and Suguru appeared. They were struggling with what looked like a steamer trunk. The thing was massive. He wondered where and when Shuichi had picked it up. Shuichi hadn't had it when he moved out. Given their expressions, it was a safe bet it was also heavy.
"Gee, thanks, buddy," Hiro said as he maneuvered backwards along the plastic runner.
"Welcome," Shuichi said brightly.
Eiri saw it coming. It was as if time suddenly slowed down. For a moment, it seemed as if there was enough time to warn the redhead of the impending doom, but in reality, knew there wasn't even enough time to draw a breath. Instead, he watched as Hiro tripped over an uneven portion of the plastic runner he and Suguru were following around the dining table towards a door at the far end of the kitchen, which had also been propped open with some of Eiri's books. The hall on the other side led to the master suite as well as a forth bedroom and a small bathroom. In an envious maneuver, Hiro was able to keep himself from falling flat on his ass, but he nearly dropped the trunk.
"Woh," Suguru cried, staggering under the intense weight of the trunk that was suddenly thrust upon him. "Watch it," he snapped once he had a firm grip on the trunk once again. The last thing he needed was to have it falling on his toes.
"Hey! I tripped," Hiro snapped back.
"Well maybe if you were watching where you were going-!"
"It's pretty hard to do that when one is walking backwards!"
Eiri pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh that drowned out the rest of the arguing that continued down the hall. He felt the beginnings of a headache and for once, it was not cause by either his hyperactive husband or equally as hyperactive son. "Are you sure they're not secretly dating?"
Shuichi barked out a laugh.
Little Takanori, who Shuichi had-thank Buddha-stopped from jumping all over the furniture as if it was his personal trampoline had taken up to rocking back and forth while he watched cartoons besides Shuichi. Eiri had no idea why his son did that. Mika claimed he and Tatsuha used to do the same thing. As nice as that little tidbit of information was, it did not explain why children apparently found it fun to not so much rock as pummel the furniture. Eiri had visions of his beautiful-not to mention expensive-leather sofa as kindling.
At the sound of Shuichi's laughter, little Takanori stopped his rocking motion and glanced up at him.
"Hiro and Fujisaki? Not likely," Shuichi snorted.
"Oh?"
Shuichi nodded.
"They remind me of the Fujiwara's next door."
Shuichi paused. He'd never thought about that before, but Eiri was right. "Fujisaki isn't interested in dating, or so he says," he added, "and Hiro seems to have a crush on this girl, Yoshiki Kitazawa, or something or other."
"Who?" Eiri asked as he rounded the sofa. He dropped down next to his husband, draping an arm across the back of the couch.
Shuichi snuggled into his side with a content sigh.
Little Takanori, thrilled at having his father join him, crawled across the sofa, and Shuichi, to sit on his lap.
Eiri wrapped his free arm around his son.
"This girl who works at the studio. Not sure what she does, but she's always wandering around chatting it up with the artists. She and Hiro seem to have hit it off. Though…"
"Though?"
Shuichi bit his lip.
"She's really a he," came an unexpected effeminate voice from behind them.
Eiri glanced over his shoulder.
A figure, who at first and even second glance appeared to be a woman, stood behind them carrying two boxes, one stacked on top of the other, effortlessly as if they were filled with nothing but air. Makeup artist turned music artist, Eri Yamaguchi was Bad Luck's new drummer. It was a profession one would never guess the man was involved in. Though, Eri had retained his title as makeup artist as well as wardrobe fashionista specifically for the band. That Eiri could believe, but drummer? He still could not wrap his mind around that and that was after he'd heard the man play.
Eiri had only met the man once before and in his opinion, once was more than enough.
Even off stage, the man looked like he was ready for the stage. He wore more makeup than Shuichi, Mika, and Maiko combined. Hell, Eri wore more makeup than every single model on the face of the planet combined. Dark pink blush accentuated high cheekbones. A combination of heavy eyeliner, mascara and turquoise eye shadow brought out his baby blues. Bright pink dyed hair had been straightened and swept off to one side, revealing a giant pink hoop earring. A form fitting three-quarter sleeve black scoop necked T-shirt, knee length black pencil skirt and knee high, chunky heeled boots over fish net stockings completed the ensemble.
A definite strange character, but he was as much of a genius on the drums as Hiro was on the guitar, Suguru on the keyboards and Shuichi on vocals. Not to mention he had an amazing voice. It blended perfectly with Shuichi's.
Given that Shuichi was gay, both Hiro and Suguru were bisexual, the addition of Eri as a gender-bender-or whatever the man considered himself because Eiri certainly had no idea how to categorize him-completed the set. As popular as Bad Luck was becoming, it was no wonder that Japan's top rated LGBTQ magazine had named them band of the year twice in a row.
"He?"
"Actually," Eri explained, "male to female Transsexual."
"Does Nakano…?" Eiri asked, turning towards Shuichi.
Shuichi shrugged. "Who knows?"
"Honestly, Shuichi, what exactly do you have in that trunk?" Suguru asked as he returned from the master bedroom with Hiro right behind him. "It weights a bloody ass ton."
Eiri frowned. For people who were apparently not dating, it certainly took them a while to deliver that trunk.
"Uhm…"
At the hesitation, Eiri glanced down at his husband. He cocked an amused eyebrow at the blush that stained Shuichi's cheeks. Now he was intrigued.
Hiro and Suguru exchanged knowing looks, Hiro looking amused while Suguru looking torn between amused and disgusted. Deciding he was more annoyed than anything, Suguru stormed out of the condominium with a snort of disgust and meandered his way down the hall to the elevators. He could not believe he had strained his back, nearly dislocated his shoulders, almost broke his fingers and came this close to dropping the offending trunk onto his toes and all so that his best friend and his lover could have their…
"Stuff?" Shuichi squeaked. Never before could he remember a time when he'd been this embarrassed. He just wanted to curl up and die. He grabbed the nearest throw pillow, which happened to be a dark blue one with a silky cover that was currently lying on the floor where it landed after his son kicked it off the couch and pressed it to his face.
Eiri chuckled as Shuichi slid lower on the sofa.
"Only you, Shu," Hiro said with an amused shake of his head. A ping resounded through the open door of the condominium. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as the elevator doors slid open and Suguru disappear from view. "Hey, Sug," he called out. "Hold up!" With a bounce, he trotted after the young keyboardist.
Eyes sparkling in amusement, Eri watched the red-haired guitarist leave the condominium before turning back to the vocalist. "What kind of 'stuff'?" he pressed.
An offended, "Hey," could be heard from out in the hallway.
"You know…Stuff," Shuichi mumbled around the pillow. At the catcall, he tossed the pillow at his friend. He was aiming for his head, but the pillow landed several feet short. "Shut up!" The glare he attempted lost most of its intensity at the bright color that continued to highlight his cheeks.
"Gotcha," Eri winked.
If possible, Shuichi's blush deepened.
Eiri chuckled.
Shuichi slapped him halfheartedly.
"So, 'music stuff'," Eri read the chicken scratch on the boxes he was carrying. His long pink nails, which happened to match his professionally arched eyebrows, tapped a beat against the underside of the boxes.
"It's the bedroom down the hall from the master," Eiri explained. Before Shuichi moved out, the spare bedroom had been used by Shuichi as an in-home studio. They had even looked into having it soundproofed so that professional recording equipment could be installed.
"Right."
Eiri watched the man saunter off, swishing hips included. "Where the hell did you pick that one up?" The guy was more of a flaming queen than Shuichi.
Shuichi cleared his throat.
Eiri watched as the flush that had started to disappear solidified. He was redder than Hiro's hair.
"Store," Shuichi muttered.
Eiri cocked an eyebrow. An amused grin spread across his face. "Where you got the stuff?"
If possible, the blush deepened.
Eiri chuckled.
II
Horaido Tea House - Kyoto, Japan
There was nobody who could fully understand what she was going through: head of the class, straight A student, member of the nations top high school debate team, secretary of the Honor's Society, Vice President of the student body, reporter for the school newspaper, and part time member of the archery club and all on top of being sixteen and pregnant.
Her mother had been a senior in high school, mere weeks from graduation, when she discovered she was pregnant with Ryuichi. After getting over the initial shock, her mother claimed to have been ecstatic at the news.
That her mother would welcome the news of an unplanned pregnancy at such a young age was shocking to Maiko, to say the least. Why hadn't her mother been terrified? Angry? Confused? Those emotions she would be able to understand, but overjoyed at the news that at seventeen years old her life was over? That she was going to be an unwed single mother responsible for the wellbeing and care of a helpless baby dependent on her for its every need? What about all those sleepless nights? What if when the baby started crying, you could not find a way to make him stop? What if you became one of those parents on the news that forgot their child in the backseat of the car and by the time you returned to the car the child was dead from heat stroke and dehydration? All the possibilities of what could happen terrified Maiko more than anything else.
Of course, her mother was experiencing those same emotions, but apparently, she and her then boyfriend had been discussing getting married and starting a family immediately after graduation anyway, possibly by the end of the summer, so her being pregnant should not have caused any problems.
"Should not have".
That caught Maiko's immediate attention.
"We'd decided that he'd continue on to college and then medical school-he wanted to become a doctor-and I'd remain at home to raise our children. I didn't see anything wrong with being pregnant sooner then we'd expected," her mother had told her. "Apparently he did."
"Why? What happened?"
"It seems he was all talk." When she'd asked what that meant, her mother had replied, "When I told him about the baby, he accused me of cheating on him. He refused to accept the child as his and dumped me."
As far as Maiko knew, her mother had never spoken to her ex since. However, from what Ryuichi told her, his biological father had tried to get in contact with him once years ago, but Ryuichi told her that he'd told him, "I don't know what you're on about. I already have a father." By that, he was referring to his stepfather, Morihiro Shindou. The man had willingly decided to raise and take responsibility for a child he had no rights to. They may not be related by blood, but Ryuichi considered his stepfather more of a father than the man who got his mother pregnant. "It takes more than just a night in the sack and some agile little swimmers to be a father," was what Ryuichi told her once. "Passing on your genes isn't what makes one a parent."
Against the wishes of her family, her mother opted not to have an abortion or give her child up for adoption, which were options being forcibly pushed onto her when threats towards the young man to "do right" by their daughter-meaning marriage-went nowhere.
"Of course his family backed him," her mother snorted. "He could do no wrong," she continued in a mocking voice. "This, of course, made me look like a slut."
Her grandparents had even gone so far as to suggest they would send their daughter "to visit relatives out in the country" until the baby was born and then they would take the child in and raise the child as their own.
"Basically," her mother said, "my child would become 'the orphaned son' of 'distant relatives' who 'perished in a horrible car accident' and who my parents were 'gracious enough to take in'."
Maiko had never heard such vehemence from her mother before.
"I was told I'd brought shame down upon our entire family and that our ancestors were weeping with sorrow for my idiocy," Maiko could hear her mother saying, "but I didn't care. I wasn't going to run away and hide as if I had something to be ashamed of and I sure as hell wasn't about to give up my child or pretend that my own son was my little brother." A strange look had appeared on her mother's face then. When Maiko had asked her what was wrong, her mother had brushed it aside as nothing.
Instead of giving into the demands of her family, her mother moved in with one of the only friends that had not shunned her.
If Maiko had any heroes, it would be her mother. Seventeen years old, fresh out of high school, and already a single parent, but making it work as best as she could.
Then there was Shuichi.
In a way, Shuichi's and their mother's stories were similar, but in another they were nothing at all alike. The same could be said if you compared her's to her mother's as well as her's to Shuichi's. Nobody could truly comprehend what another person goes through, no matter how similar the situation. Not even walking in that person's shoes could give one a well-defined comprehensive knowledgability.
Even though they were less than two years apart, she and Shuichi were never very close growing up. Neither had she been very close to Ryuichi, but there was a sixteen-year gap between her and Ryuichi, not to mention the fact that Ryuichi Sakuma was the lead singer of the hottest band to ever come out of Japan. That was not to say that her big big brother-meaning Ryuichi-neglected her because that was not the case. As the only girl in the family, she was spoiled rotten. Ryuichi had been no exception, but despite the age gap, he had always been closer to Shuichi than to her. While it sometimes used to make her feel put out, and still did every now and then, she knew that their closeness was due to the love of music that flowed through their veins. She had always been more into books and studying, something both of which her brothers steered clear. In fact, she wasn't sure if either Shuichi or Ryuichi knew where the nearest library was. Besides, in hindsight it almost seemed as if their parents deliberately tried to keep them-meaning her and Shuichi-from socializing too much, but that assessment was so ridiculous that she did not give it any more consideration than it deserved.
She and Shuichi had barely been acquaintances let alone friends as children, so it came as no surprise at how little she knew about him. She hadn't even known he was a neutral-it hadn't exactly been advertised in the Shindou household-until the scandal surrounding his relationship with Eiri Yuki became known. Seeing an obviously pregnant Shuichi Shindou plastered all over the television and newspapers was what made her first realize just how little she knew about her big brother. It was then that she vowed to make up for that.
Besides his obvious love of music, there was not much she could say about him even now. He'd always been a bit distant, except for when Ryuichi was in town and then he stuck to their big brother's side like glue-even when they were fighting. She did know that he was involved for a short time with a rough crowd. It was not until recently that she became aware of just how rough of a crowd it was.
Instead of continuing on to high school after barely managing to graduate from middle school, at the age of fourteen Shuichi started a band with Hiroshi Nakano and Suguru Fujisaki-both of whom he has known since they were children-and somehow managed to become involved with the Black Dragons.
It was not too long after that he dropped a bombshell to their parents: he was going to have a baby. It seems that they'd been none too pleased at the news and he was promptly kicked out and disowned. That was something that had never made any sense. If they were going to kick her brother out because he went and did something as asinine as getting himself pregnant then by those same standards should she not have been out on the street?
She still hadn't received a satisfactory answer to that. Her mother pretended as if she hadn't spoken when the subject was brought up. Just kept on speaking randomly. Her father ignored her completely. Walked right out of the room without a word. As for Shuichi…
"Just…don't. Okay? Just don't."
Of course, all this turmoil within the family was something she had been ignorant of up until very recently.
At first, she hadn't even realized that Shuichi was gone. They may not have hung out, but she wasn't stupid or blind. She knew all about the tension between him and their folks, even if she hadn't known-and still didn't know-what it was all about. She'd known that her brother spent as little time as possible at the house, which was another reason they had never been close. He'd never been around. It was only when she started hearing rumors that Tohma bought the floundering L8r Records and soon after signed their first band-that she'd heard via rumors was a band calling themselves Bad Luck, which she knew happened to be the name of Shuichi's band-that she even realized that her brother was no longer in the house. She went into his room to ask him if the rumors were true that he'd been signed and what she saw left her confused and upset: his room was completely empty.
Their parents told her when she went crying to them, "Gone." Well, more like her father said with this indifferent attitude. Her mother had just started sobbing. That was all either of them would say on the subject: Shuichi left.
The first time she and Shuichi sat down to have a real conversation was when she suspected she was pregnant, a mere twenty-six weeks ago. He'd volunteered to go to the pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test for her.
Ironically, it was this selfless act that gave birth to the rumors that Shuichi had been unfaithful to his husband-she hadn't understood what one had to do with the other until Shuichi's publicist announced not long after, mere days later, that the two were separating. The paparazzo that seemed to stalk both of her brothers (apparently twenty-four/seven because the buzzards had absolutely no life whatsoever), photographed Shuichi while in the pharmacy holding the pregnancy test and leapt to "an obvious assumption".
She should have known better than to send Shuichi of all people, knowing how famous he was becoming, but she hadn't really understood just how famous her brother was. Besides, she had been so scared; terrified that she might actually be pregnant and afraid that someone would see her and jump to conclusions before she knew either way.
The first time the two of them sat down and talked-really talked, Shuichi had confessed that when he discovered he was pregnant with little Takanori, he'd honestly thought about having an abortion. He'd even made the appointment and went down to the clinic. To say she was surprised that he'd actually hosted the idea, even for a short time, would be an understatement.
"Dad said I'd be able to come home if I did but…I wasn't going to do it for him," Shuichi told her. "I could care less what he thinks about me. I just didn't want Eiri to hate me."
This was also when she learned that Shuichi hadn't just "left" as their parents claimed, but had in fact been kicked out of the house.
"Quite literally," was what Shuichi said.
Even though it made some semblance of sense, Maiko still had a hard time believing their father was that cold hearted.
If what Shuichi told her was in fact true, then she was glad her brother had Eiri.
In that, she counted herself lucky. Yes, her parents had been disappointed in her when she told them she was going to have a baby. She had been disappointed in her, too. However, unlike her mother and brother before her, her parents had not shown her the door. If they would have treated her the same way, she was not sure what she would have done. Many of her friends started to snub her when they learned of her pregnancy, even though it was these same friends that goateed her into the now infamous rendezvous.
All three of them-herself, her mother and her brother-had such similar stories, but it just wasn't the same. It would never be the same.
The jingle of bells cut through her thoughts.
When she looked up, her heart lifted up into her throat and then slammed back down into her chest. It was like missing a step in the dark or being in alone in a car as it sped over an inclined section of the road. It sent a surge of adrenaline through her that had her pulse racing. Warmth heated her cheeks. She bit her lip to keep a grin from appearing. There standing just inside the front door of the small tea shop not far from her parents' house stood the now infamous captain of the swimming team. This was the guy she has had a crush on since middle school, the guy who used her attraction to get her to sleep with him all so that he had the privilege of admitting to having slept with Shuichi Shindou's baby sister.
Some would think that after everything she had endured because of him, her body would stop acting of its own accord, but it did not work that way. How she wished it did. She could no more help the blush that wormed its way up her neck or how her pulse started racing or how her palms grew slick with perspiration then she could stop the sun from rising at dawn and setting at dusk. She did not like how she lost all coherent thought at the sight of him or how her IQ went from above to below average. She wanted to hate him, to despise him, to spit on the ground he walked on. Her life would be so much easier. Unfortunately, life was not that black and white. What she did feel was a surge of anger at how this man had treated her. Her ire drowned out the lingering feelings she still, unfortunately, harbored for him.
When Shuichi stopped over the day before, she told him about the meeting she had, for some strange reason, agreed to.
"Want me to come?" he'd asked her.
"Why?" She'd honestly had no idea why he'd want to at first.
"As a bodyguard. You know," he'd continued with a sly glint in his amethyst eyes, "just in case things get violent. Wouldn't want anything to happen to my little nephew."
She thanked him for the offer, but turned him down flat-and with a snort.
Her crush's dark gaze scanned the nearly empty restaurant. It was not long before he spotted her in a corner booth. He made his way towards her, attempting to smile, but it looked sickly. "Maiko," he greeted.
Maiko narrowed her gaze. "That's Shindou," she corrected, "Mr. Horigami."
The smile faltered. A look of uncertainty crossed his face.
"So, Mr. Horigami, what can I do for you? And please make it quick," she added, fighting a smirk at his fallen expression and at the same time wishing she could wipe such an unbecoming expression from his face, "my parents and I are finishing up decorating the nursery this weekend."
Gazing at the checkered flooring under his feet, Horigami started nodding and could not seem to stop. "That's actually why I wanted to speak with you."
That had Maiko's pulse racing again. She could not determine if it was out of dread, anticipation, or a combination of both.
As he was sliding into the booth opposite her, she was reminded of something else Shuichi said, "By the way, tell the douche bag-"
"My brothers say hello by the way."
The color drained out of Horigami's face.
Maiko could not stop the smirk this time. Oh, this was going to be fun.
oOo
Shindou Residence - Kyoto, Japan
A short time later, Maiko slunk into the house. She tossed her keys into a dish on a table against the wall, dropped her purse onto the floor and started to remove her shoes. The motions were so ingrained that she did them automatically while her mind was occupied by thoughts of Horigami.
"I want to be involved with the baby."
That had certainly been a surprise. If he'd been looking for a way to wipe the smirk from her face and/or gain the upper hand then he had accomplished his goal. She had been so flabbergasted by his confession that she'd fled the teashop without answering him.
Horigami claimed to want to be a part of his child's life. It was something she had been wishing for, hoping for, praying for, ever since she discovered she was pregnant. Now that it seemed to be a reality and not just a dream, she wasn't so sure.
Was she afraid? Partly. She wasn't sure she wanted anything to do with him after the way he had humiliated her in front of half of the school at that party and then the way she was scorned, ridiculed and mocked by his friends and the rest of the school ever since. Then he'd had the gull to pretend that that night had never happened.
"I'm pregnant." It had taken her nearly a month to work up the courage to tell him. It hadn't been easy. Far from it. It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do and that included having to tell her parents that their precious baby girl was no longer a baby. She'd been trembling so badly the entire time and had felt sick to her stomach. It had taken all her nerve, and then some, to not spin around and forget her duty.
"Good for you," he'd replied. His laugh was echoed by the gaggle of goons that followed him like a shadow everywhere. "And I should care because…?"
She'd opened her mouth to say, "Because it's your baby," but instead, she'd watch as he walked away, still laughing, and what was left of her unshattered heart broke.
If that was the way she was treated, then how would he treat their child? A child he, up until just moments ago, denied existed.
But…
Whether she hated his guts, or just wished she could, he was, after all, the father of her child, so didn't that mean that he deserved to be involved in his child's life?
"Hey, honey," called a soft voice.
Half stooped over with her shoes clasped securely in her hand, Maiko saw her mother walking out of the kitchen carrying a wooden tray. On the tray was a clear glass jug filled with dark amber liquid, ice that clinked against the sides of the jug as she moved, and lemon slices. Three glasses turned upside down were arranged around the jug.
"How'd it go?"
Maiko shrugged as she placed her shoes neatly besides that of her mothers within the shoe closet. Grabbing the strap of her purse, she slung it over her shoulder and followed her mother up the staircase to Shuichi's old bedroom. "Fine I guess," she answered vaguely.
When she'd told her brother that his old room was being turned into the nursery, Shuichi had seemed genuinely happy. Despite what people seemed to believe, Shuichi was actually fairly good at hiding his emotions. It was no cop face, but he had enough skill to fool the best of them, so she was not sure if he was truly alright with his old bedroom being converted into a nursery for the only grandchild their parents had bothered to acknowledge.
"What he want?" Mai asked, referring to the meeting with the boy who dared to defile her daughter.
"He wants to be part of his child's life," Maiko confessed.
Mai's face lit up at the news as she stepped into the nursery. "That's great!"
"Yeah," Maiko said. The smile she tried to give wavered around the edges.
"Oh, hey, sweetie," her father greeted as he turned around and saw her entering behind his wife.
"Hey, Dad."
"Glad you're back. Gotta question for you. What do you think about…?"
Maiko was relieved that he didn't ask any questions about her meeting with Horigami and that her mother did not press the issue. She was so confused as it was. All she wanted was time to think and digest everything. Maybe she'd give Shuichi a call later and ask his opinion. For the moment though, she lost herself into placing the finishing touches onto the nursery for her son.
oOo
Somewhere in the United States
All his worrying had been for naught. The target had not been tipped off as he had feared after all. Apparently, she had been out of town taking care of her mother who had fallen ill.
From what he had been able to deduce, her mother was getting on in years and had never really been all that healthy anyway, at least not since her husband was killed in the line of duty during the Korean war. That was something K could understand, as he had taken care of his bedridden mother months prior to her death mere weeks before the birth of his son Michael, but all the sympathy in the world was not going to influence him in any way.
If he hadn't deserted his post after learning his last target was a single mother with no family who would be able to take care of her child if something were to happen to her, then he sure as hell was not about to walk out on the job this time just because he could identify with the target.
From his room that had shrunk from being the size of a shoebox to that of a rat hole in the weeks he had been cooped up here, K knelt before the lone window that was hazy with grim and filth. Besides him, propped against the wall yellow with age and brown with years, possibly decades, worth of dirt was the window screen, which had been too easy to take out. Open on the bed behind him was the carrying case for the M-24. Everything else was packed and waiting for his hasty, but clean, retreat.
Squinting through the scope, he followed the target's movements as she paced back and forth in her apartment across the street with the phone pressed to her ear. He was assuming she was on hold for she hasn't said a word in the ten minutes she had been on the phone. She walked from the kitchen through the dining room and into the living room before turning and heading back. The barrel of the sniper rifle was steady. His finger hovered over the trigger, just itching to pull it. He had wasted too much time on this job already.
…Wait…
…Wait…
…Wait…
Taking a deep breath, he held it, counted to ten, and then slowly exhaled. Quietness washed over him. There was nothing. No emotion. No thought. No conscience. No guilt. Nothing.
It was time.
Through the scope, K watched as the target jerked to a halt in the middle of the dining room and then crumbled to the floor out of sight.
It would take an hour before someone realized that Mrs. Marianne Hockley was dead, but by then, the assassin for hire known simply as K would be on a flight to Japan.
oOo
Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan
Again. The target was at it again.
From the woods that stretched up behind the Usami residence all the way to the Ryugan Temple that was perched at the top of the hill at the head of a long steep set of stairs that had been cut into the hillside, Shiho lowered the binoculars and heaved a disgusted sigh.
Shiho was beginning to question why she had agreed to this assignment again.
Seriously, what was with this chick? Did she have some undiagnosed OCD or something? Honestly. She'd spend hours pulling weeds, tilling the soil, pruning the flowers, trimming hedges, and planting new flowers and then disappear into the house for a little while before returning to re-till the soil and pull more weeds that apparently only she could see. That was all this girl has been doing since she woke, which had been at the ass crack of dawn.
Actually, the sun hadn't even been close to being up and Ms Ayaka Usami was out of bed. Weren't teenagers supposed to sleep in until noon and stay out all night? Talk back to their parents? Be lazy slobs and juvenile delinquents? Hang out with people their parents disapproved of? Participate in underage drinking? Experiment with drugs? Smoke? Have sex with the next able body? Go to parties at their friends' houses when the parental units decided to take a personal weekend? Take the car without asking? Join devil-worshipping cults? Dance naked under the moonlight? Weren't teenagers supposed to be teenagers?
Ms Ayaka Usami was definitely an old woman at heart.
Shiho had to stop herself from banging her head against the nearest tree in agitation.
This had to be the most boring assignment she had ever had the privilege of being part of. Ms Ayaka Usami was a boring woman. Very.
Dull.
Mind numbing.
Tiresome.
Unexciting.
Monotonous.
Repetitive.
Whichever verb was used, it all amounted to the same definition. Uninteresting. As in stimulating no interest or enthusiasm.
Yawning, Shiho stretched her arms over her head. Sighing, she flopped onto her back against the warm grass. Setting the binoculars besides her, she folded her arms behind her head and crossing one leg over the other, let her eyes flutter closed.
Well, this chick wasn't all bad. Boring was actually turning out to be a good thing. She could finally catch up on her sleep.
III
Monday- Seguchi Residence - Tokyo Midtown Residence - Tokyo, Japan
When her husband decided to come home to have lunch with her, Mika knew something was going on. He either usually forgot to eat because he was so busy or he grabbed something quick out of the vending machines in the commissary at the studio. It turned out she was right, not that she ever doubted it. She usually was. Her husband, it seemed, was going to be late getting home.
"Oh?"
Tohma, using his chopsticks, shoveled some rice into his mouth. "I have to go to Kyoto this evening. There's this band I was invited to check out, so I'm not sure-"
The ringing of his cellphone interrupted him.
Mika glanced over her shoulder at her husband's sleek blackberry that was dancing across the sleek surface of the bar overlooking the stove and then back at her husband.
Picking his white linen napkin from his lap, Tohma dabbed at his mouth before setting it down on the table besides his plate. "Excuse me, dear," he said to his wife before pushing away from the table.
"Of course," Mika said with a nod. She watched her husband waltz towards his phone.
As the phone continued to buzz in his hand, its shrill ring filling the otherwise silence of the kitchen, Tohma frowned at what was displayed on the LCD screen. Private. There was only one thing he detested more than having his busy schedule interrupted with mindless drivel and that was receiving a call from someone who refused to be identified by caller ID. He had half a mind to press "ignore", but decided against it. It could very well end up being from the very people he has been waiting to hear from.
Then again, it could be a telemarketer.
Either way, what was supposed to be a nice quiet lunch with his wife was ruined.
He answered the phone mid-ring. "Hello?"
"Yes. Hello. I'm looking for Mr. Tohma Seguchi."
"Speaking."
"Mr. Seguchi. Hello. This is Takashi Iba from DNA Diagnostic."
"Ah! Mr. Iba. Hello, sir. Tell me you have some good news for me." It was best to get right to the point instead of focusing on tedious pleasantries. He was a very busy man with very little time for mindless chitchat that he had no interest in.
"Yes, sir. We have the results of the paternity test you requested. In fact, they are in my hands as we speak."
That was fast, Tohma thought in surprise, though his unchanging expression gave no hint to the excitement and pleasure flowing through him. Three working days. That was how long he was told it would usually take to receive the results. This meant normally, since blood samples were drawn on Friday evening, results should not have been known until at least Wednesday, but here it is Monday and the results were already known. Efficiency. That was what he liked.
"Excellent."
Even though the DNA Diagnostic Center was a world-renowned institution with a reputation as being the best, this was a very serious matter involving members of his own family and he had to make sure that everything had gone smoothly and by the book and that nobody had taken any short cuts. There could be no screw-ups, no mistakes. He would tolerate nothing short of perfection.
"Do you trust the results?"
"Of course, as I performed the test myself."
That surprised Tohma even more than having the results back several days earlier than expected. "Even better. Now, how soon can you have the results delivered?"
"It depends on how soon you want them."
"As soon as possible."
"In that case, they can be at your office within the hour. I will personally deliver them myself."
"Excellent! I look forward to finally meeting you, Mr. Iba."
"Thank you, sir."
"Well," he said, ending the call, "that was unexpected." Most welcome, but unanticipated still the same.
Mika had been listening to her husband's end of the conversation and had some inkling as to what was going on, but she wanted to be certain that she was not just leaping to conclusions. "Tohma? What's going on? Who was that?"
"That, my dear," Tohma explained as his fingers flew over the keypad of his cellphone, "was Takashi Iba from the DNA Diagnostic Center and it appears as if…" He held the phone to his ear. "…there's suddenly been a change of plans."
She'd figured as much.
Mika glanced at the now cold food she had painstakingly prepared in preparation for a quiet meal with her husband. It was rare that they were able to synchronize their schedules so that they could eat together. Instead of going out like they normally would, she had actually decided to cook. It was something she rarely did. She was no Iron Chef, but she enjoyed cooking. Now it had all gone to waste.
"Yes, I do apologize, but something has come up," Tohma was speaking softly into the phone as he strode out of the kitchen and down the hall out of sight.
"Guess it'll be leftovers," Mika announced unhappily, "and dinner for one," she continued after hearing the distant sound of the front door opening and closing. She sighed.
oOo
Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan
The dispute with Hong Kong had been settled rather quickly, for which he was extremely thankful. He had more important business matters to attend to, like dealing with the PSIA, without having to deal with the bunch of chimps that thought they could run Hong Kong. Actually, a group of chimps probably could do a better job.
According to the manifesto, the shipment in dispute had indeed arrived just as he had been claiming all along, albeit a bit behind schedule due to rough seas. In fact, the ship had only just reached port the night before, meaning, of course, that the container was still on board the ship and had yet to be unloaded. This was something that could have been easily confirmed, but apparently, it was just as he had suspected. Hong Kong had been trying to pull the wool over his eyes.
To say relations between the two were now strained would be putting it lightly, not that that was any big loss. It wasn't as if they were his only customers, his most loyal, or his biggest spenders.
The PSIA, Public Safety Intelligence Agency, was breathing down his neck about alleged criminal activity they believed was taking place, but couldn't prove. It was quite amusing actually, like watching your rival fumbling around lost in a maze in the middle of a moonless night while he had a map and a flashlight.
They may not be able to prove anything, but they "knew". Oh, yes they did. Years of experience as well as good ole fashioned common sense screamed that one did not become part of the Yakuza because one was a good businessman. Luckily, the DA's office, as well as Grand Juries, need something a little more concrete than gut instincts. Otherwise, he would have been lynched long ago.
Apparently, the PSIA were starting to become impatient, or so says his source with the department. Not that they could be blamed. After all, spending millions of tax dollars in order to place him and his known associates under surveillance, wiretapping his phones, bugging his home, raiding his businesses-including those with no ties to organized crime-and interviewing supposed eyewitnesses, they have yet to turn up any leads. Since they had absolutely nothing, the PSIA have taken to harassing and intimidating his men into confessing or slipping up and even promising leniency if they were to cooperate and become a witness for the state. All that got them in the end, though, was slapped with another lawsuit for police brutality.
That pleased Kizou greatly. Why? Wouldn't this cause the PSIA to become more determined to bring him down? Well, yes. Yes, it would, but it also would cause them to become sloppy. One little slipup was all it would take. One little crack in their otherwise perfect sting operation and his team of lawyers and attorneys would whip out their crowbars and pry it wide open and the PSIA would be left with nothing but their regret.
If that wasn't bad enough, there'd been a surprise inspection the other day while he had been dealing with the Hong Kong mess. The Health Inspectors claimed all five of his restaurants, including the one within his luxury hotel downtown and the ones at his gambling and casino halls, had all failed. That was nothing short of a load of crap. He knew that every single one of his businesses, whether legitimate or not, was kept up to code and was so squeaky clean you could eat off the floor without fear of catching some sort of contagion. His mole within the department had inexplicably gone missing at about the same time. While his lieutenant was looking into the matter of the missing spy, he had his contingent of lawyers and attorneys looking into the so-called failed inspections.
Then there was a bunch of little upstarts trying to stir things up. That wasn't something he was worried about though. It could be easily dealt with.
What could be a problem was the territorial dispute between the Cyclones and the E Street Gang. They were bitter rivals. Have been since their formations. There was no rhyme or reason for their contention for one another. It wasn't light banter meant to rile each other up before the big game. This wasn't a friendly competition to see who would come up on top this year. Oh, no. Theirs was a pure, unadulterated hatred for one another. The Cyclones detested the E Street Gang purely because they existed and vice versa. The territory in dispute was contested just because. He wasn't about to take sides because both groups worked for him and the territory they were fighting over-just because they could-in actuality belonged to him. There were no claims to be had. Besides, he was tired of dealing with their childish antics.
"They have the option of getting their shit in order," he'd told his inner circle at the last meeting.
"Or?" someone had asked.
"Or nothing. They get their shit together or there's not going to be any shit to get together."
Kizou scrubbed his hands over his face, his stubble grazing against his palms.
At a knock, Kizou called for whoever it was-most likely Narata-to enter.
"Sir?"
Kizou dropped his hand and peered down the length of his body towards the open bedroom door. Narata stood there looking as if he had been up for hours. He wasn't sure if his aide had actually been up for that long-God only knows why-or if Narata was just a morning person. It actually reminded him of Shuichi. The boy could get three hours of sleep and yet would be as hyperactive and high as a kite. What he would give to be able to bottle that. It would make him a fortune. He'd come close, but the uppers were no substitution for the actual thing. "Yeah?"
"Phone. It's Tohma Seguchi."
All vestiges of sleep vanished. Now wide-awake, Kizou flung back the sheet and practically leapt out of bed, tugging on a black silk kimono as he made his way to his office like a man possessed.
Was this it?
He pushed open the door of his office, not evening registering the resounding thud as it slammed against the wall. "Mr. Seguchi," he panted into the phone. That was when he realized just how out of breath he was.
"How soon can you be in Tokyo?" Tohma asked without any preamble.
Kizou felt his heart skip a beat or three. His mouth went dry. Weak kneed, he dropped like a lead balloon into the chair that was fortunately behind him otherwise he would have ended up on the floor. How undignified that would have been. "Is it…?"
"The results of the paternity test will be arriving in my office within the next hour."
This was it. This was it. This was freaking it! "I…" For once, he was at a loss as what to say. Was it possible to be excited and nervous at the same time? He could not remember a time when he was more nervous then he was at that moment. It felt as if elephants were doing the samba in his stomach. Not a pleasant feeling. However, the reasoning behind the build up of nerves was.
Kizou shook himself. Why was he so nervous? There was no reason to be. The truth was on his side.
What truth would that be? asked a nagging voice in the back of his mind.
The truth was grinning at him from besides the last family photo taken before his little brother was killed. The side-by-side comparison was not only eerie with how similar little Takanori's appearance was to his late brother, but it was unmistakable. Unless there was some sort of family secret that he has yet to be privy to, then it was undeniable. There was no possible way that Taki Aizawa was the biological father to Takanori Uesugi.
A surge of pride washed over him. His back was straighter, shoulders back, head held high.
He blinked aside the mysterious sting in his eyes.
After clearing his throat of an equally mysterious lump, Kizou said, "I have to make a few phone calls and shuffle some things around, but I can be there in a few hours." His voice came out strong. Good.
"See you then."
With a shaking hand, Kizou replaced the receiver in its cradle and collapsed back into his chair.
"Sir?"
Kizou started at the voice. Pushing himself from the chair, he addressed Narata who was standing on the other side of the desk, "See what you can do about clearing my schedule for the rest of the day. I need to go to Tokyo."
"Yes, sir," Narata said promptly. He watched his boss as he strode out of the office and vanished down the hall in the direction of his bedroom.
oOo
Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan
Who was the one more likely to be suffering from some sort of psychosis? The one running through the house screaming at the top of his lungs or the one who allowed said party to move back into the house. Tough call.
As much as he may complain-okay, more like bitch…incessantly-about the migraine inducing rituals that he was subjected to on a daily basis, waking up in the morning to a bed that had gone cold and a house quieter than a graveyard at midnight was what Hell must be like. At times, though, the urge to take a nap in a gas oven or bang his head against railroad tracks while a train whizzed by was overwhelming. It was something he never wanted to experience again. Not ever again.
However, it didn't stop him from having momentary regrets. It was his right as a father of a two-year-old and husband to a pop star. He could regret if he wanted.
Trying his damnedest to ignore the chaos going on outside his office, Eiri returned his attention to the manuscript in his hands.
The working title was Killer Asylum.
Under the pseudonym Eiri Yuki, he'd written fourteen novels, three short stories and even the script for the movie based on his first novel, The Decision (1).
All of his published work, such as The Decision, were stories about faith, love, tragedy and or fate. It's what was popular when he first started out as a serious writer. Whether they were "romantic suspense" or "science fiction police procedurals with an emphasis on crime solving but with an overall reoccurring theme of developing a relationship between the couple", these types of stories were what sold. It was what was in demand. Therefore, it was what all the publishers were looking for. Were you the next Nicholas Spark or Nora Roberts?
However, those types of stories were not his forte nor were they his passion. He preferred to delve into the criminal mind, write about the why they do what they do and how can they be stopped from doing it again. Dark. Gory. Gothic. Where villains were villains, evil and sadistic and who frighten you into keeping the light on at night. Where the heroes and heroines were brave and resourceful and, like their reality counterparts, sometimes did not get their man. There might even be a little romance to little the mood at times, but it definitely would not be the main focus.
Killer Asylum was that type of story. It also happened to be the first manuscript he'd been satisfied enough with to send out to various publishing companies. He'd been hoping someone would consider it for publication. Unfortunately, there had been very little interest and the demand had just not been there.
"A well written piece. It's obvious you have talent. Unfortunately…"
There was the "but" of it all. There was always a "but".
"…we are not seeking submissions in this genre at this time."
It was turned down repeatedly. It left him so dejected that one point, he'd actually considered giving up.
Instead, he'd put his darker side that thought in the realm of reality where things did not always end in happily ever after to delve into the light side where knights on white steeds slew evil stepmothers and rode off into the sunset with the fair maiden.
Here he was an international bestselling author. It wasn't what he'd wanted when he started out, but figured it wouldn't hurt either. What he hadn't counted on, though, was finding that success as a romance writer. It was the very genre he'd always thought of as an irrational foray into the imaginative imaginations of homemakers. He wasn't sure if it technically fulfilled the definition of what irony was, but it felt ironic.
For God's sake, he was a romance writer! He did not have a romantic bone in his body. All one had to do was ask Shuichi for confirmation.
Eiri had no idea why he was so damn successful as a romance writer when, nine out of ten times, his stories had more gore and death than a war movie and usually didn't have that "and they happily ever after" type of ending romance novels were supposed to have. It seems as he hadn't been able to completely suppress his "darker side" completely after all.
Whatever.
But one good thing came from it: he had developed the Midas touch, or so claims his publishers and since everything turned to gold, maybe it was time to broaden the horizon, go back to his roots.
He'd spoken with his agent, Kanna Mizuki, about doing just that. She immediately jumped on board. Why not? It certainly could not hurt. It would expand his readership. She ran the idea by his publishers, but they had not been as sure or as eager, but seeing he was who he was, they were willing to give him a chance. Now all he had to do was decide whether to use his given name or use a different pseudonym.
A squeal tore his attention from his manuscript to the closed door of his study and brought a smile to his lips.
He returned to the pages in front of him.
"Gas," said Briggs. "Had to be gas…"
"Bullshit!" roared Turner. "That was no goddamn gas explosion. You think I don't know plastic when I fuckin' hear it?"
He stopped yelling and turned pale.
There was no way in hell those boys could have blown themselves up. No fuckin' way in hell.
His mind was still in turmoil from the feedback and the explosion. They'd blown the plug with no problem. Hadn't they? Of course they had. He precisely remembered them doing so. Then Long had gone up the hole. Then… (1)
The-relative-quietness that had fallen over the household suddenly-baka and baka junior had probably decided it time for a snack break…again-was shattered by the ringing of the phone.
"Eiri?" came the shout.
Eiri sighed. "Yeah," he called back. Marking his place, he set the manuscript-that he apparently was never going to get through in this lifetime-aside and reached behind him for the phone. "Hello?"
"Eiri-kun?"
Eiri tensed. Immediately, his guard was up. "Are they in?"
"Within the hour," Tohma said.
Despite the fact that he was speaking to his brother-in-law on the telephone, Eiri began nodding. Suddenly, he was nervous and he wasn't even sure why. It wasn't as if it affected him in any way. No matter what the results ended up being, whether Taki Aizawa fathered little Takanori-he shuddered at the thought-or if it was, by some miracle, Rique Kizou, little Takanori was his son, maybe not by blood, but certainly by right of adoption and he had absolutely no plans of that ever changing. No little piece of paper was going to convince him differently. Shuichi has been telling him repeatedly that was the case and Eiri intended to hold his husband to that.
"We'll be there." Oh, most assuredly, if for nothing more than to tell whoever the father turned out to be that he had no plans of going anywhere.
oOo
Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan
"Really? That was fast."
From the dining table where he was reading the paper, Ryuichi turned around as much as he could without having to stand up and physically straddle the chair. In the kitchen, Tatsuha was speaking on the cordless phone. Where he would be pacing back and forth, Tatsuha remained fixed to a single spot. With his free arm-the hand not holding the phone to his ear-gripping his hip, Tatsuha was leaning back against the counter. His legs were stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other.
"The president himself, huh? That's some preferential treatment."
Ryuichi frowned. Just who was Tatsuha speaking with?
"Blackmail. Of course!"
Was it Tohma?
It wasn't so odd-anymore at least-that his mind would make an automatic leap from "blackmail" to "Tohma", but having grown up with the man, he'd long ago become accustomed to how the wheels and cogs in Tohma's brain moved and how his brain functioned. It was almost as if Tohma was operating on a completely different wavelength then the rest of humanity. When it came to Tohma, nothing that man did could surprise him any longer. Tohma Seguchi would do whatever it took to protect those he cared about. Anything. While many people claim they would do the same, Tohma actually made good on his threats and promises. It was what made even the Yakuza afraid to mess with him.
"Oh? Then what would you call it?"
It had to be Tohma. Who else could blackmail someone into doing something without actually coming right out and blackmailing them?
Nobody messed with Tohma Seguchi. Well, nobody messed with him and lived to tell the tale.
Tatsuha threw his back and laughed.
Ryuichi had always been of a mind that this trait his long time friend harbored would eventually backfire, but so far, it has done no such thing. In fact, it was what has propelled Tohma forward, kept him from giving up even when the odds were against him.
Some people were given a helping hand, but others, like Tohma, had to help themselves and that was exactly what Tohma did.
The more Tohma's empire grew, the more power he had at his disposal, which in turn helped to grow his empire. It was a never-ending loop. Ryuichi had reminded his best friend, on more than one occasion, that even the Roman Empire fell.
That was where Tohma's ingenious cunning came in.
"I can take care of my own," was what Tohma once told him.
As Shuichi was under the protection of Tohma Seguchi, nobody would be able to touch either Shuichi or little Takanori. And if the outcome of the paternity test revealed that Taki Aizawa was not the biological father of little Takanori, it would undoubtedly mean an alliance between Tohma and the Black Dragons-for there was only one other person who could be the father, or at least according to Shuichi. In turn, this would make them and their leader, Rique Kizou, nearly untouchable. No one was going to want to mess with the only son and heir of the leader of the Black Dragons if it meant going up against Tohma Seguchi. Except for the PSIA, but that was another matter-but knowing Tohma, he probably had connections within the police department he could use.
Tatsuha turned sober suddenly. "You think they'll show up?"
The Aizawas. That had to be who Tatsuha was speaking of now. This could not be easy on the elderly couple. They already lost their only son and now it seems as if they might be losing their grandson.
Turning back around, Ryuichi folded the newspaper and set it aside. Pushing up out of the chair, he walked into the kitchen.
Tatsuha looked up at him as he entered, smiled briefly, and then returned his attention back to the phone. "Yeah," Tatsuha was saying. "We'll be there." He looked up and met Ryuichi's light brown eyes.
Ryuichi nodded. Of course they'll be there. They were family after all and family always supported one another.
oOo
NG Productions - Executives Offices - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan
Tohma had barely sat down when his phone on his desk buzzed.
"Mr. Seguchi," spoke the soft female voice over the intercom.
"Yes, Nana?"
Nanako Horie was his new secretary. Fresh out of college. She took over for Hairi who retired last month.
"I just received a call from the lobby, sir. It seems there's a Mr. Takashi Iba here to see you?"
Tohma was struck momentarily dumbstruck. "Ah, yes." That certainly was fast. These people at DNA Diagnostic did not do anything half cocked. "I was expecting him. Have them send him up."
"Yes, sir."
"And Nana?"
"Sir?"
"Send him in immediately when he arrives."
"Of course, sir."
Tohma sat back, his long, slender fingers steepled before him.
His gaze wandered to the black phone sitting on his desk. There was one more call he had to make and it might turn up to be the hardest one yet.
oOo
A sharp, but brief rap on the office door stirred him from his contemplations. His manicured nails ceased their drilling on the arms of the chairs. Dropping his other hand from where it was absently fondling his chin, Tohma spun the chair away from the amazing view of Tokyo and called out sharply, "Yes?"
The door swung open silently and a familiar burgundy head popped in. "Sir? Mr. Iba is here to see you?" It was more question than statement. Fear laced her otherwise steady voice. Dark eyes were wide with that same fright. In all, she appeared as if expecting a vicious bulldog to jump out at her from some shadow-hidden corner only she could see and attack her.
Should he feel pity towards this poor, young girl? Probably. After all, he did have a tendency to snap at her quite often. It was a wonder she'd stayed on for as long as she had. It was not as if she were incompetent. Far from it. She was very knowledgeable. And not just about secretarial duties either, but about the music business as well. He had to wonder if she had aspirations of eventually taking over the company from him one day.
He respected her far more than he did anyone else. Mostly because, even though she seemed a little on edge with his ever changing moods, she dealt with his almost OCD behavior professionally. She took everything in stride.
Eager to please and eager to learn, she knew when to keep her mouth shut-just smile and nod-and also when he needed to be reigned in.
What would he do without her?
"Ah! Yes. Show him in please, Nana."
A look of relief replaced the tension within her. "Yes, sir," she said with a smile.
Nana disappeared from view briefly. The door swung shut behind her, muffing her already soft voice. Not long after, a man swept into the office with an air of confidence and authority about him. Behind him, Nana reappeared.
"That'll be all for now, Nana, thank you, but I'm expecting Mr. Shindou, Mr. Sakuma, Mr. Kizou and my brothers-in-law. Show them in when they arrive."
"Yes, sir," she said with a nod. She retreated, shutting the door behind her.
Tohma swung his gaze to the man standing before him.
Takashi Iba.
Tohma pushed the chair away from the desk and stood up. "Mr. Iba." He inclined his head in greeting. "Welcome."
With a black briefcase clutched in his right hand, Takashi Iba returned his greeting with a deep bow of his own. "Mr. Seguchi."
Tohma took the opportunity to study him.
It was difficult to judge the age of the president of DNA Diagnostic. Hair as dark as raven's feathers was slicked back from a high forehead and pulled into a neat ponytail at the nape of the neck. With the absence of any visible wrinkles and with dark chocolate eyes, sharp and alert, that seemed to be studying him in turn, Tohma guessed him to be at least forty. But the gray flecks within the otherwise black hair had him second-guessing himself. Either Takashi Iba looked young for his age or he was going prematurely gray.
Whichever it was, Takashi Iba was dressed professionally in a navy blue three-piece suit. Under the vest was a light dusty rose button down shirt. Not many men could wear pink and get away with it-except for Shuichi and Eri, but they were a different story all together.
"Please," Tohma indicated the chairs before the man. "Have a seat."
"Thank you." Unbuttoning his suit jacket with one hand, Takashi sat down in one of the two chairs indicated.
Tohma settled back into his seat, folding his hands neatly on top of the desk.
Setting the briefcase onto his lap, Takashi Iba rolled both set of dials into their proper 3-sequence alignment. Once he had it, the two latches securing the briefcase closed, sprang up. Lifting open the briefcase, he reached inside for the only contents: a large business sized envelope with the logo and address of the DNA Diagnostic Center stamped into the upper left hand corner.
"Those are the results?" Tohma inquired.
"Yes, sir, they are."
Tohma reached out for them, which Takashi Iba gladly handed over.
Fighting the urge to tear open the envelope as if he were a child with an expectation of discovering cash inside of a birthday card, Tohma carefully slit open the top of the envelope with an antique silver letter open he always kept on his desk. It'd been a gift from his now deceased grandmother. He pulled out a single sheet of paper. Placing the envelope aside, his malachite green eyes scanned the document.
Takashi Iba fiddled nervously in the chair as the silence grew.
"Are you one-hundred percent sure about these?" came the question. Tohma glanced at the other man over the paper.
It was a sheet of paper, only a single sheet of paper that could be bought at any drug store or office store or large department store in any country on the planet and yet it was suddenly transformed into something much more than that with the addition of the black text.
Takashi Iba nodded. "Yes, sir. I am." Tohma Seguchi's expression gave nothing away. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Was he happy with the results of the paternity test or not? It was like trying to get the time of day from the Mona Lisa.
Tohma sat back with a barely audible sigh. Either way, someone was going to be going home unhappy.
His gaze traveled back to the phone. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Iba, there's a phone call I have to make."
"Of course." Takashi Iba stood with briefcase in hand, bowed, and exited the office.
Once the door was shut, Tohma sat forward. His hand hesitated briefly over the phone.
This was not going to be easy.
…To Be Continued…
(1) Excerpt from Killer Asylum, novel written by my dad (you can purchase it from Amazon if you're interested)