Chapter Seven:

He had seen this in movies. Body parts and threatening messages were the only things that came in unmarked packages. Whatever it was could only be bad, especially for Hisana. Once upon a time, Akihito would have thought he was overreacting, that movies were made to be dramatic and to entertain, but they certainly were not real. Watching the men spring into action, Akihito knew that this package was a big deal, possibly life-threatening.

Kirishima wad going down in the elevator before Asami could even speak. Suoh was barking orders in the fixer's stead. The men were clearing off the coffee table, Kuroda and the police were on standby, and his personal physician had been notified that there might be emergency surgery. He had treated Hisana before. Gloves and guns came out of hidden cubby holes in the wall. Before he had finished ordering the men about, Suoh grabbed Akihito by his shoulder and threw him into the bathroom, trying to preserve his naivety.

All the while, Asami sat at his desk, a stone idol with a face as expressionless as a Noh mask.

"Stay in here, kid," Suoh deposited him in the far corner of the decked out bathroom.

"What? No!" the photographer spun around. "Ryu needs me!" Whatever was in that parcel could shatter his family, could change all of their lives and would certainly bring the fury of God to Tokyo.

"Listen, Takaba. There is a good chance that they sent an arm or a leg. You don't need to see this," Suoh glanced over his shoulder at his boss. Asami had not moved, and did not seem to be aware that he had manhandled his lover away from the room.

"Get out of my way!" Akihito tried to push past the Godzilla-like bodyguard. He was going to be there, to help Asami any way he could. Cover his eyes, or get ride of the bloody stump…oh, shit. He was going to be sick. He clutched his stomach, feeling it roil just beneath his skin. Suoh noticed, and lifted the seat on the western style toilet.

Light brown eyes clouded as he shook his head, and when he spoke, his voice was gruff. Akihito was doubled over, but stilled when Suoh used his given name. "Akihito," Suoh never used it. It was one of those unspoken rules that Asami had, but the fact that he spoke to Akihito now as a man, and not as an indulged lover, spoke volumes. He was not playing around. "If it is––" his voice broke and he had to take a few steadying breaths before he could speak again.

"If it is a body part, then we know she is expendable. That they will kill her if they haven't already, and that everything we are doing is pointless." It was stupid to mutilate hostages that you planned to ransom; family members paid less for spoiled captives. "That's when he will need you to be able to smile."

"I don't follow," Akihito stood up straight. He still wanted to run to Asami's side, but even if he had both arms working, he would never have made it past Suoh.

"For a long time, it was just them. She was with Asami-sama before even Kirishima and I. If we don't get to her by sunrise," Akihito noticed as Suoh did not say Hisana's name as a way to distance himself emotionally. "She will be killed. And Asami-sama will lose himself if you aren't there to be his crutch." Protecting the boy before him was quickly becoming paramount, as he was Asami's link to the goodness in life, and was very possibly his last link to sanity.

Akihito's feet were rooted to the spot. He might have actually sunk knee deep into the floor, for try as he might to get to Asami, his feet would not budge. He understood exactly what Suoh clumsily explained. Only Akihito could pull Asami out of the darkness that would consume him; only he could keep that brilliant mind from shattering beyond repair. Asami would need a patient lover, not demanding or judgmental, but someone strong enough to withstand the abuse that was sure to come as the fixer struggled to grasp his first personal loss. Only Akihito could weather the storm, and pull both of them out on the other side.

"Suoh," Kirishima called from the door. He did not look surprised that the Chief of Security had pushed the boy into the bathroom, secluding him from the gore. He agreed it was for the best, to protect the photographer and their boss. "It's here."

"This stuff will give you nightmares," the hulking mass said lowly. "You'll never smile again, kid. You'll lose a part of yourself if you watch."

With that, he followed Kirishima to the couches. He left the door open, and unblocked. He was giving Akihito a choice. He could stay the untainted boy he was now, turn a blind eye to Asami's trauma and deal with the aftermath. Or he could join his lover, be a pillar of strength as the man suffered. He would lose some of himself, but he would be the companion Asami needed.

He saw Asami sitting on the plush leather couch, in the same spot from where he hunted Mahdi weeks ago. Suoh and Kirishima stood on his either side behind the couch, sentries keeping a watchful eye and ready to spring into action. They were coiled springs, and the slightest tremor would set them off like dynamite. The rest of Asami's men fanned about the room, hands on their guns as they waited for the reveal. Mahdi paced opposite of Asami, running his hands through dark curls. His men shifted uncomfortably, unlike Asami's phlegmatic crew. But in the eye of the storm, Asami had never looked more alone.

Akihito walked confidently out of the bathroom. There was no choice, really. He would do anything for Asami. Now, he was a lifeline through the storm, back to the calm. Just like Asami had been to him after Hong Kong.

Akihito stood between the two sentinels. Suoh glanced at him just once, but quickly averted his eyes forward. He accepted the photojournalist's decision. Akihito put his good hand on the fixer's shoulder, and gave it a comforting squeeze. Asami did not even look at him. He was in full crime lord mode now, his stoic face masking any emotion. His hands were steady as he reached for the first package, as if he were the one to send the present and not a father about to know if his child was maimed.

There were two boxes sitting on the coffee table. One was thin and square, almost like a pizza box. Too thin for body parts, Akihito was sure of it. The other was taller, but more squat. It was almost the size of a head, and that was the one Asami opened first. No one offered to open them in his stead, not even the openly frantic Mahdi. It was his right and duty as the father to bear that burden.

Akihito though the first box was too small to hold body parts, but Asami knew better. Hisana was so small, a side effect of her premature birth. He blamed all misfortune on Kokoro's inability to be a good mother. It was always her fault.

***Sunshine***

He had been fifteen, and the girl who lived down the street was a vixen. Kokoro had been her name. Ryuichi was three years her junior, but he had the body of a Greek god, and Kokoro frequently fought with her boyfriend. He had waited until one such night, and then climbed the lattice work. She had opened her window like Juliet to Romeo, easily succumbing to his golden gaze. Asami Ryuichi always had the Midas Touch. He was a scoundrel, dashing into "virgins" bedrooms and stealing away in the night, never to be seen again. The notches in his belt were impressive, and the boys at the club laughed at the tales of his conquests.

A month later, there was a knock on the door. Kokoro's father had drug her across the road with a bruising grip, family lawyer in tow. She was pregnant.

"She isn't keeping it!" his grandmother had roared. White spittle flew from curled lips, and deadly shrapnel shot out of her family eyes. "I will not tarnish this family's name with a bastard!"

Asami was inclined to agree. He was a boy of fifteen, ripe and invigorated, like a thoroughbred put out to stud. He did not want to forsake his prime for a wife and child.

"Of course she is keeping it!" the lawyer insisted. The family saw it as their opportunity to foreclose on the Asami goldmine. They had the most money in the province, and acted like the governors of the township. Back then, he had been a steward, not the emperor he was now. A child bound them together for life.

He did not marry the poor girl, but she did have the baby. It was months of tests, of sitting through family dinners and get-to-know-you's. The Kurosaki family was oh so polite as the musk of greed clung to their round faces. Asami found himself wishing the babe would die, that it would suffocate in Kokoro's womb. He had no affection for it, or it's mother. Let the abomination never see the world, never breathe the polluted air, let the mother smother it before it could open its eyes.

Kokoro made him hold her hand thorough the pregnancy, begging for the tenderness he refused to give. It was her own revenge for the situation, demanding he show her some compassion, for she was in hell, too. Asami could only sneer at her. This was all her fault. She was the woman, she was the one responsible for birth control. If she was adherent to her protection regime, or if she would abort the damn thing, then this would not be happening. Ever the fool, she wanted to keep the baby.

They shouted at each other all the time, in private or with an audience. Asami often bet his friends on how quickly he could make her cry. She had loved her boyfriend, who left her after finding out she was carrying another man's child. Asami had been willing to give up his rights to the fetus. She could marry the boyfriend as she so desperately wanted to; let them raise the child and play family. He never even needed to see it. The boyfriend refused the offer.

Perhaps he got his wish. In the early days of December, during the first snowstorm, he had been pulled away from gambling at the club to wait hours for the birth. The babe was almost a month early; it was not expected until the middle week of January. He might get lucky, after all. Fortune had certainly been on his side at the blackjack table. The child would likely die soon if it came so early. Perhaps Kokoro wanted him to experience the pain alongside her by breaking his hand. Asami barely felt any pressure. He only could hear the doctors whispering and Kokoro cry out frantically.

The baby was silent.

Yes, let it be dead. Let the bond between the families be severed, freeing him to return to his epicurean lifestyle. Kokoro's family demanded monogamy, and his agreed to the stipulation. He only pretended to comply, and never again did he fuck her. He made that mistake one too many times. The very idea of monogamy chaffed his soul. Asami was polygamous by nature. He would fuck anything with two legs and a hole. Kokora was at least intelligent enough to not think she was anything special.

"Oh my," one of the nurses gasped in awe just after Kokoro let out a piecing moan.

And then Asami Ryuichi saw the most beautiful thing in the world: glowing gold eyes stared straight into his. His child looked at the world with calm, detached curiosity.

"It's a girl," the doctor proclaimed before passing her to another nurse.

A girl. A daughter. He had a daughter. The Asami princess––the world would be hers. He did not notice the doctor press on Kokoro's stomach, forcing out the putrid afterbirth, or the families demands to see the baby. Despite the ire of the Asamis, they paced the hospital halls with rapt eagerness as they waited for the infant's arrival. He only had eyes for the broad back of the fat nurse that hid his baby as she preformed the APGAR tests.

"It is a four, Nakai-sensei."

Amazing. A month early, yet she was perfectly healthy. His clandestine wishes had fallen on deaf ears. His baby girl was picture perfect, albeit scrawny. Asami could live with that. He could toughen her up. His little miracle had beaten the odds.

"What are you going to name her?" Nakai took the swaddled babe.

"Hisana," his voice was much hoarser than expected. Both families looked stunned that he would name the baby. He had been disinterested and even spiteful whenever the baby was debated. Asami tried to cradle her the way his mother made him practice, keeping her head held high. He had a daughter. "Asami Hisana."

Let it be clear to the world that she was his, and no one else's.

"That is a beautiful name," the fat nurse smiled kindly at the doting father as she tucked a pink beanie on Hisana's head.

Asami looked into his own gold eyes, and was suddenly very thankful that Kokoro had not miscarried. The child stared up at him soundless interest. She lay still, with no muscle to move her fragile bones, completely dependent on the man holding her. The girl had no choice but to trust him to care for her. Unlike other infants, who screamed and eschewed from their parents in terror, his daughter gave her trust immediately. She looked only at his strong face, and relaxed, somehow knowing that he would care for her. Even after his strong aversion to the pregnancy, she infallibly relied on him.

"Give her to me," the new mother demanded. She reached for the baby, "Let me hold her."

Reluctantly, he did so. Kokoro cooed and kissed Hisana's face. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she told the princess how beautiful she was, how loved and wanted she was. That was a lie. Asami had neither wanted nor loved her until he met her. Still, gold eyes stayed fixed on him. No matter who held her, who whispered baby talk into her small ears as she was slowly passed around the room, her gazed was solely on him.

His heart constricted painfully. Asami knew at that moment that he wanted Hisana with him. In his house, as his daughter. His princess. He knew that his family would accept his decision. His mother glowed with the pride of a grandmother, and his grandmother was talking about plans for the nursery. They all wanted her in their lives, it seemed.

As soon as she was weaned, she came home. Kokoro had a room set aside for her, in the same wing of the house as Hisana and Ryuichi, but she was discouraged from using it. Hisana's room was right next to his. He continued to revel and gamble and fuck, but every night, he came home to a princess in frills learning to walk. Little legs, more rubber than bone, would totter over to him, her arms extended. He would swing her in circles, her giggles more astounding than orchestrated symphonies. For the little girl who listened to poetry and histories at bedtime, he would conquer the world.

***Sunshine***

His hands were steady as he slit the lips of the box. Asami did not even pause before he opened the lid. Akihito squeezed his eyes tightly shut, bravado dissipating, suddenly unprepared for the macabre.

"Shoes," Mahdi sighed. Akihito forced his eyes open. Sure enough, black peep toed shoes with rhinestones and red soles sat on crisp tissue paper. "Those are her favorites. She always wears them when she dances," the Arab did not bother to mask the relief that was flooding his body. He agreed with Akihito. The big box was surely the only one that would contain a body part. Those were the shoes that she had been wearing at Club Peek. The investigative journalist felt his lungs constrict and then release, letting air and life back inside of him.

Asami knew better. Limbs could be severed or hacked off. Stumps could be boiled, stripping away flesh and sinew until only milky white bones remained. Bones were the perfect taunt and memorial to send. Bones could fit into any size box. But she had not been gone long enough reduce tissue to bone, so he felt slightly more confident as he slid the box cutter over the tape.

***Sunshine***

Her first word had been Otouchan––Daddy. Small hands, far too thin to be the typical chubby baby, had grabbed ahold of his tie and demanded that he look at her. Hisana was not satisfied if he looked anywhere but at her, as if his sole purpose was to observe her every move. "Daddy," she demanded his eyes.

Words came very quickly to her, and choppy sentences followed. She was a clumsy, fumbling, bumbling toddler but her mind was sharp. She was as smart as he was, but when she could do three figure multiplication at four in her head, Asami knew she was certifiably brilliant.

His boyhood friends were amazed by her. They taught her how to count cards, how to wink, and were the first to introduce her to other languages. His best friend, Goya Mitsue used her like frat boys used dogs to secure dates with women, but had a much higher success rate with Hisana. At three, she had perfected toddering up to a woman, and as she wrapped her arms around the woman's legs, she would whisper, "You so pwetty." Mitsue swore that there never was a better wingman.

Soon, it seemed the entire world was enamored with her, and Asami became increasingly nervous about taking her out in public. People snapped photos, laughed at her impish witticisms, and declared that they had never seen a prettier child. The notoriety made him anxious, and his grip on her hand tightened every time they stepped outside the house. He could taste the impending doom in the air, almost like an omen. Someone was targeting his child.

Just after Hisana's fifth birthday, it came. Kokoro decided she had been separated from her child long enough. She filed for sole custody. He had been twenty.

***Sunshine***

Akihito instantly recognized the leather miniskirt. It clung masterfully to her ass at Club Peek, inspiring Kou to snap a picture. He knew Kou was taking that picture to the nearest bathroom, but he hadn't cared then. Now he did. He would have to erase it before Asami found out.

No body parts, he sighed gratefully. She was still in danger, but it was not imminent. They had time to save her.

"Get ice!" Kirishima roared, knocking Akihito to the side. The secretary grabbed the crime lord's wrist, trapping his hand in mid air. "Now!"

"Don't look kid," Suoh turned his staggering body around, so his back was to Asami. Akihito threw his head over his shoulder, craning his neck. Asami brandished the box cutter like a sword, swearing and spitting. Pinning the crime lord's arms to his sides before he could kill someone, Suoh dragged him over the back of the couch and away from the boxes. Akihito tripped, trying to move so Suoh could have the room to cage Asami. And he did not want to get hit by one of Asami's flailing limbs.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" Asami shouted.

Grabbing the back of the couch, Akihito hoisted himself to his feet. Kirishima was screaming for ice as he tried to help Suoh with Asami. Guards were tossed, like leaves in a typhoon as Asami shouted, not sure which orders to follow. Kill them and find her echoed between shouts for ice and pleading with Asami to calm down. He heard large chunks of vomit hit the floor as Mahdi lost control of his stomach.

"Asami-sama!" Suoh grunted as the crime lord elbowed him in the gut. Asami was hard packed muscle, but Suoh was a mammoth. He could withstand him any day, but it still hurt. "She can live without an ear!"

Akihito had never seen Asami completely lose it before. Gold eyes were the wildest he had ever seen, and so blinded by rage that he could only see the thin, fleshy ear pinned to the leather skirt. It was artful, like something out of a horror movie. The pink ear was pinned to the skirt with an earring. The stone was blue, and the size of his finger nail. Pierced between the ear and stud was a thin strip of paper. To help you hear me now.

"Asami-sama!" Suoh pled.

One of Mahdi's men grabbed the ear. With no container to pack it in, he tossed the half empty whiskey bottle over his shoulder. It cracked on the wall, dripping like a spider's web. He dropped he ear into the icy broth, and Akihito understood. They were trying to keep it viable, so they could reattach it when Hisana came home. The weightless flap of skin floated at the top of the water, almost translucent as the water rippled.

"Asami-sama, we can get it to Reiko-sensei!" Kirishima tried to tell the man who might as well have been deaf. "The cut was clean! He can reattach it!"

Assuming there was a body to put it on.

"Ryu!" Akihito heard his own voice joining in the clamor that tried to calm the fixer.

Suoh held the fighting man in an iron grip but rage fueled Asami. Suoh was iron, but he was platinum, and he broke his man's hold as easily as he tore paper. Kirishima lunged for him, but Asami grabbed the man who carried Hisana's ear to the elevator. Spinning the Arab around, Asami body slammed him up against the wall. The ice bucket slipped from his hands. Ice scattered on the floor like diamonds, and the ear slid away. Thoughtless, Akihito pushed his way past the churning guards, and dove for the ear. He grabbed it before it could slip under the bookshelf.

"It's just an ear!" Asami roared into the foreigner's ear. The man flopped like a fish, trying to get the air back in his body. Still holding the man, he slid the box cutter open. "She can live without an ear!"

And then Asami jerked down. The man screamed, ripping his head away. The blunt knife still sliced through flesh, cutting the flap of skin. Mahdi's employee seemed eager to rend flesh from skull as he pulled, trying to get away from Asami's assault.

"Ryuichi!" Kirishima knocked the knife out of Asami's hand.

As the secretary pressed a handkerchief to the foreigner's bleeding head, Mahdi and Suoh tried to tackle Asami. He dodged Suoh easily, knowing the man so well that he could predict his moves before he made them. The fixer staggered, pulling his gun out of the holster. Mahdi was there, gun drawn right at Asami's head.

"I will shoot you right here if you don't calm down," he threatened in English. It was much better than his Japanese, and he knew everyone could speak it. Everyone but Takaba.

Akihito was trying to scoop ice into his hands, trying to keep the ear cold. The ice was melting quickly as Akihito's own body temperature rose in response to the adrenaline that pumped through him. His hand shook; ice fell through his fingers. The ear was getting warm, and Asami was about to get shot. His lover was too berserk to care.

Suoh pulled his gun out and pointed it at Mahdi. As much as he wanted his boss to calm down, he as not going to let the upstart boyfriend shoot him. Then both members of the family would be in danger of dying, if not dead. That was unacceptable.

"You can shoot me, Asami, but not my men. They're trying to help you," Mahdi spat out, still speaking in English.

With three cubes and an ear cupped in his hands, Akihito shot up to his feet. He did not even think, he just acted as he threw himself between the two criminals. Asami's black pupils constricted in recognition, and his arm shook. He was too far gone to care about shooting Mahdi, but he knew Akihito by sight; he would not deliberately hurt his lover. Broad shoulders heaved as his breath came out like the snorts of a horse. "Move," his voice rumbled like a volcano.

"No," Akihito shook his head. "We're wasting time. She's alive, and you aren't focused on finding her."

"Akihito! Move!" the fixer snarled.

"Ueda," Akihito dropped the melting ice and ear into his outstretched hands. "Take this to Reiko-sensei. Him too," he jerked his head towards the quivering bodyguard. Kirishima had helped staunch the blood flow, but he was traumatized. Blue lips formed an O as he struggled to breathe.

"Yes, Takaba-san," the man accepted the calm order. He cradled the ear like his own child, and he helped the bleeding man to the elevator.

The office was destroyed. Water and blood pooled on the floor, the table was overturned in the chaos, and everyone was breathing heavily. Asami looked deranged but stared at his lover's calm face. Akihito held his hand up in surrender. It was a move that Asami could recognize, total submission. Hazel eyes locked onto gold ones, and Akihito silently demanded his lover's attention. "We don't have the time to fuck around! We're racing the clock, and as much as it sucks, we can only react. We have to be smart, right now."

Time was precious. Less than ten hours were guaranteed to them, seven according to Suoh's body part theory. "You need to focus."

"Takaba is right," Kirishima put his hand on Mahdi's arm; he spoke in Japanese as well, and Akihito was very thankful. English hurt his head. He only understood bits and pieces of the tongue twisting language. Mahdi hesitantly dropped his arm. "We have men dispatched to the suspects' homes. We'll have a lead within the hour."

"No!" The list of suspects had unsettled him. He knew there was more to the story, pieces that his lover was overlooking. "The men who tried to kidnap me last month––Havi and Axel. They were foreign, like European or something." They were not two separate incidences. The same mastermind orchestrated it, and it would be stupid to only focus on Japanese suspects.

"Kirishima," Asami finally lowered his weapon. He tried to focus on the men, on something other than his child writhing in pain, alone in a cell. She could live without an ear. There was no danger of bleeding out. "Who has deals in Europe?" Most of Japan traded intercontinentally, but the list of people who knew of Hisana was short. Only thirty-two families. The crosscheck would be swift.

"Havi?" Mahdi interrupted. Europe was a heavily populated continent, but Havi and Axel were ethnic names. "They have to be Eastern European. Bosnian or Lithuanian, maybe."

Asami glanced at his secretary, who was still next to Mahdi. The man's mouth was pinched, but he nodded almost imperceptibly. Suoh had broken out into a cold sweat as he crept closer as well. Without warning, Ryu grabbed Akihito's arm, and jerked him behind the fixer so quickly, that Akihito was not sure what the difference was between left and right. Guns clicked as the safeties were pulled back.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Mahdi held his hands up in the air. He was a quick draw, but bullets were faster. Asami's other two goons held their guns at Mahdi's henchman, who looked as confused as Akihito felt.

"Or Serbia," Asami drawled. Mahdi's caterpillar eyebrows knitted together. He had no idea what the crime lord was talking about. "Why did you send men to Serbia? Who were they meeting?"

"Serbia?" Mahdi repeated slowly. "No one. I don't deal with them. No one in the family does."

"My man at Interpol flagged a forged passport with your name going into the country," Asami sneered. His gun started to shake. "Don't lie to me again!"

"I'm not!" Mahdi cried. "My uncle's operations are wealthy, but small. We don't have the manpower to waltz into any country we please."

That was the truth. Abbas Al Madani dealt in oil and smuggables. He would move anything for a price, but he was only the middleman. Clients came to him, not the other way around. And Mahdi was not high up Abbas's chain of command. Though blood, he was not in the direct line. At most, he would be a trusted lieutenant, and the way he fraternized with other syndicates made even that possibility tenuous. No, Mahdi could not be in league with the Serbs unless he was planning to betray his uncle. That would be too bold of a move.

"Someone is using your name to cross borders," Asami lowered his gun. The others followed suit. "And that is problematic."

"I've been with Hisana for the pat year," Mahdi reminded him. He meant that he had every opportunity to harm her, and had not. Asami heard that they were living together, and fucking like rabbits on every surface of the apartment. Only Asami should do things like that with Akihito; no one else. Especially not his daughter.

More importantly, it also meant that Asami had been right. Mahdi had not been testing his response. Mahdi had nothing to do with it. Kirishima came to the same conclusion. "It was a test of our response to Hisana."

If Asami was tracking Mahdi, it was because of Hisana. Only she gave the Arab value. Asami tipped his hand unwittingly. He revealed just how important Hisana was, and his enemies immediately capitalized on it. His daughter was paying for his rash headedness. He should have just hired an assassin to take Mahdi out the moment they became Facebook official, rather than biding his time and hoping that Hisana would break up with him. "Kirishiama," Asami finally turned his attention back to the files on his desk. "Who is dealing with the Serbs?"

"It would have to be Kawaguchi," Akihito chimed in from behind his lover. "He's the one who deals with cartels."

"No," Asami's eyes flickered back and forth as he remembered the message. To help you hear me now. That was personal, that was aimed directly at him. The attackers only knew about Hisana in passing, and had lucked into her coming to the country. Akihito had been the previous target. They were striking at Asami's core, at the people he cared about most. "It's Lorenzo Gallo."

He was the head honcho of the Honduran drug cartel. When Asami learned that Kawaguchi was negotiating with terrorists, he had stopped the deal. Gallo pled with Asami. He needed the deal to go through. The cartel was a subset of Columbia, and they did not deal well with inefficacy. Should he fail to secure the deal, his family would be tortured and killed. Asami had not give a rat's ass about Gallo's family. If he could not protect them, he should not have had one, and so he terminated the deal.

Rumor had it that Del Olmo, the leader of the Columbian cartel El Lado Negro, had not taken the failure lightly. He liked to skin his victims before stretching their faces like canvas on his walls as macabre art. Gallo's screams had fallen on deaf ears; he wanted to make sure that Asami had plenty of reasons to listen to him now. He had even given him an extra ear to help.

"Kawaguchi would have known where to strike and when," Kirishima agreed. "Even from prison, his reach is far."

"Is he still in prison?" Akihito asked as they rushed down the elevator. So many of them were crowded into the claustrophobic space that a fire marshal would have had a field day. Luckily, Asami always ignored trivial rules.

"Yes," Suoh answered lowly.

"How will we get in?" the photographer asked. Prisons had rules, were run by the government, and generally frowned upon people roughing up the inmates. Even if Asami had people on the inside, like Yoh in Hong Kong, it could still take time to get information.

"Asami-sama is friends with the warden," the man nodded to his boss, who was jabbering away on the phone. "By the time we get there, he will be waiting unofficially in an unguarded cell."

Akihito nodded his head. It felt like half of the world was moving against his lover. South Americans, Eastern Europeans, Serbians…even the Japanese were against Asami. He knew that his lover had allies, but they were useless in situations like this, when Asami kept his secrets close to his chest. Right now, he stood alone, and it looked like he was perilously close to falling to his knees. All Akihito could do was try to catch him.

The ride to the prison was relatively quick. No one spoke, no one moved. The cars moved in a caravan, more falling behind the lead car. It could have been a political procession, but Akihito knew better. It was the real emperor of Japan that was moving, not some old gasbag with no real power. The extra bodyguards and private police force were because of Suoh. The long time security chief knew that more hands would be needed. The streets were going to run red.

Meanwhile, Kirishima was calling in favors, getting any information he could about Gallo. Was he in the country? Current business deals, the status on his family (Akihito was pretty sure that they were dead, hence the revenge but he was not going to say anything), were there any properties in Japan under his name or aliases? And then he started asking about Kawaguchi. Akihito quietly watched Asami. He kept talking in another language, something like Spanish. Kirishima was not the only one working to ferret out information, and he wondered if he should contact some of his sources. They would know nothing of Gallo, but Kawaguchi had been big news. The journalism community had an extensive memory, and they might offer up a few leads.

***Sunshine***

"You can't keep me from her, Ryuichi!" the woman had screamed. She stood in his parlor, hands bawled into chalky fists as she shouted. They had just returned from the cinema, choosing a father-daughter outing rather than attending afternoon tea at the governor's with the rest of the family. Asami had a lifetime to schmooze, but Alice in Wonderland was only playing one day. "I am her mother!"

"You may have birthed her, but you have been absent from her life for years!" he snarled back. "You drop in for special occasions, and pretend that she doesn't exist for the rest of the year! That is hardly being a motherly figure." He was more than capable of providing Hisana nurture and affection, which did surprise him. If he was not able to see to her needs, his mother was overjoyed to play grandmother. Hisana was well provided for.

"Because you shut me out of it! You deliberately keep us apart," a pointy nail jabbed at his broad chest.

"You see her as a meal ticket," strong hands loosed his tie, but did not bother to deny the accusation. It was accurate. He was at university now, and he was always the best dressed student. He had an image to maintain as the brightest student and the wealthiest. He was always impeccable, as was his daughter.

"I love her!" cried Kokoro. "She is my child, and it kills me every time I say goodbye."

"Then stay. You have a room here."

"Oh, please!" large blue eyes rolled dramatically. "You force me out every time I try to. You and your family don't want me here. Or my family. She hasn't even met my parents!"

Asami walked way from her, dropping his sport coat on the settee. "I only want her associating with the highest caliber of people." Of which his friends were not, but Asami had a talent for overlooking truths that were inconvenient.

Kokoro's eyes narrowed, and she became very still. "Are you calling my family trash?"

He eyed her cooly, "Yes."

The finite control Kokoro had over her emotions snapped. "I am sorry to have to do this, Ryuichi," she did not sound sorry at all, as she rummaged through her oversized purse. Eventually, she pulled out a thick manilla envelope that she thrust into his hands, still sealed. "But here. You've been served."

"What's this?" he tore it open, gold eyes scanning the papers uncomprehendingly.

"I have filed for sole custody of Hisana," Kokoro took several deep breaths before stiffening her shoulders, chin defiantly raising. "The court will hear our case next month. Until then, Hisana comes with me."

He crushed the papers unconsciously. "You can't––" he roared.

"I did!" her mouth twisted into a gruesome smirk. "I told them all about your gambling, your debauchery, and your petty crimes. They know that you are a criminal, that you are unfit to be a father, and they are going to give her to me!" Her blue eyes flashed triumphantly. "There is nothing you can do." The family court judge was a friend of her mother's; there was no way the Asamis could grease his hands with bribes.

Flinging the papers across the room, dangerously close to the dancing fire, he seized her arms. "How much?"

"Excuse me?" Kokoro balked.

"How much will it take to make you disappear from our lives forever?" Asami roughly shook her.

She shoved out of his feeble gasp. Fear was sapping his strength, and she wickedly used that to her advantage. "You might be able to buy my parents, but not me! She is my child, and I am taking her home!"

"She is home now!"

"Hisana!" Kokoro turned her back to the shaking man. Walking to the parlor entry, she shouted up the grand staircase. "Sweetie, get your coat! It's Mommy!"

Asami grabbed her arm. "She isn't going anywhere!"

Red lips pulled back over sharp white teeth like stage curtains. "You can't stop me! The law is on my side!" She looked back to the stairs. "Hisana!"

"Over my dead body!" Asami roared as he jerked her back into the sitting room. He flung her like a rag doll onto the dark blue couch. Kokoro yelped but the impact knocked the air out of her lungs. They both heard the gentle thuds above them as the ragamuffin princess scampered down the hallway.

"You don't have time to fuck your way out of this, Ryuichi," the mother sneered viciously. "Hisa––!"

His hand clamped down on her bared throat. Kokoro gasped wetly as he squeezed her windpipe. He leaned over her, pressing his soft cock into the junction of her thighs. He was not going to fuck her, though he licked the side of her face. "It takes seconds to snap your neck," he hissed into her ear.

Kokoro wheezed. Her red nails clawed at his relentless hand, at his pressed suit, at his gloating face. She tried to kick her legs but he held her down with his weight. Her body flexed and bucked, as if she were in the throes of a mind-shattering orgasm.

He squeezed tighter.

"Daddy?" a sweet voice sang from the doorway.

Both parents looked at their daughter, but neither moved an inch. His daughter's gaze traveled the room, taking in the scattered papers, her prone sires, and his grip on Kokoro's neck, so tight that a black bruise was already forming. Pale gold eyes saw every detail as she held the teddy bear he had given her. Kokoro regained her senses first. She waved at Hisana, telling her to run or to help, Asami was not sure. Hisana took a tentative step backwards, as gold eyes met gold eyes.

And he squeezed with all of his strength.

***Sunshine***

The body was easily disposed of. Her family, the lawyer, and even the police all came by to search for the woman who disappeared on her way to deliver the court papers. Asami was a much worse criminal than she ever knew, so making her vanish had been easy. Mitsue was a good friend. They did not attend her funeral. Hisana was safe from that woman forever, and he would not deign her even her daughter's final respects. He would sever any bond that other's tried to form with Hisana. She was his, and his alone.

Kokoro was not his first kill, nor his last. He would do whatever it took to win. Still, never had a life fluttering to its end beneath his hand felt so good, as it had all those years ago. A decade and a half later, he could still feel her heart stuttering before it went silent. It was his first kill to protect his precious princess, his prize from a terrible one night stand. He would do it again many times, but the first was always special. Like loosing one's virginity.

He snapped his phone shut as the motorcade drove the prison gates. Asami relished in the opportunity to do it again.

***Sunshine***

A/N:

So backstory won out by one vote. Since it was close, I tried to throw some drama in there. As an advanced warning, the next chapter is going to contain gore, violence, and foul language. I'm half way through it, and it is a bloody mess.

Sorry for the slow updates. It is my birthday this weekend, and I haven't been focused on writing at all. More like, packing for our trip to Cocoa Beach.

Hope the cold isn't making anyone too miserable!