Chapter Five: And You Could Have It All
She looked at the watery red that stained her fingertips, surprised by the thinness of it. People talked about its strength, its power, of how it bound people together with some intangible force. Thicker than water, they said. Those same people were impressed by the viscidity of it, she supposed, and how it was impossible to remove from the carpet. Hisana rubbed her fingers together, chin tilted in contemplation, transfixed by it.
Sakazaki struggled to sneer, though it was getting painful for him to breathe. He was tied to an office chair surrounded by his knick knacks and family photos. Let his mother watch him die. He had not expected her to come after him, not with Asami Ryuichi struggling to draw his next breath. Club Devisee was a hotspot, urban and full of salacious assholes desperate to get their chomps into the abhorrent. Just a taste to satiate their deepest, darkest desires that would make the common man wretch in revulsion.
"You aren't going to make me sing, little bird," Sakazaki blinked his dark eyes. His shirt was torn off of him, his glasses long gone. His hairy chest had been diligently flayed open, skin methodically sliced from muscle and tendon from bone. A morbid curiosity had struck her, and bending before him, she lifted her hand tentatively. Sure enough, she could touch the exposed, bloody rib with her fingers. That was how she got the blood on her hands. Daddy wouldn't be pleased by the mess.
Sakazaki's hands flexed when her men tore into his locked file cabinets. His life's work was there: shady deals, criminal plans, assassination plots, all at her bloodstained fingertips. "I'm not afraid of pain."
She finally leveled her eyes to him. "I don't want you to be afraid," the razor thin knife slipped slightly between her fingers, glinting in the fluorescent light. "I want you to be honest with me."
"Honest?" he chuckled. His face was relatively unscathed. Suoh had told her that if you hit a man first in the head, it would rattle him. Addled brains meant bad information and she wasn't here for kicks and giggles. "What makes you think I wouldn't be honest? I haven't lied to you yet."
She smirked. Kirishima and Suoh stood on either side of her, their hands bloody. They had been the ones to slice Sakazaki's skin, not her. "True," agreed the heiress. "But then again, I haven't asked you anything."
Sakazaki shrugged his shoulders, wincing at the pain but not commenting on it. His head dropped back as he spoke. "Then ask me, little bird," he croaked.
"Are you the one who tried to kill my father?" Hisana asked. She pressed her finger onto the blade until the pressure was almost too much, just before the skin broke. She inhaled deeply. The pain grounded her to the moment, kept her from getting swept away in the hallucinatory interrogation. "You've already begun to usurp his throne."
Sakazaki wheezed, "I don't want the throne, little girl."
His bared her teeth. "Just the empire."
The club owner drew a shaky breath. His chest was split open, bone exposed to the air, but he was cocky. As if he expected to survive this night, as if she wasn't going to kill him. "Only a fool would not capitalize on a situation like this," he told her. "We both know Asami would have done the same thing."
"My father has the power to slaughter anyone in his way. He has the strength to consume all of Japan," she did not deny it. Asami Ryuichi would have absorbed a felled rival's holdings in an instant. "You don't have the kind of power."
Sakazaki's eyes flashed. "You have to start somewhere, and like I said, this was too good an opportunity to pass up. Asami's down for the count. Be honest with yourself, girl. You don't have the clout to run his business. Japan is ruled by traditional, old men, and they don't cower before a woman."
The floor was covered with dark blood, richly fragrant. It was a very appealing smell, dusky and coppery. Expensive, like it might cost someone a fortune––or a life. His own blood formed a halo around his soaked chair, pulling him to the afterlife though he was not yet dead.
"Have you ever wondered what it would look like to a dissect a body while it was living?" Hisana stood up, very thankful that her hair was tied tightly behind her head. It was about to get messy. Sakazaki's eyes narrowed, gauging her, not sure if this was an empty threat. "Not some cadaver at a medical school, but cutting someone open while they are alive, and watching their organs twist and their blood pump. I think it would be fascinating," she slurred the last word.
"You can try it little bird," for the first time, the man's voice shook but he tried to mask it with bravado. "It would have to be a quick look, though. I'll lose too much blood after the first few minutes for you to see anything working." It would be excruciating, but quick. That was at the most any man could hope for in a moment like this.
"I know," she pouted. "Surgeons do it all the time. But they have bypass and transfusions. Of course their goal is to keep the heart beating, but that wouldn't be my highest priority." Leaning close, she told him, "It would be much more fascinating to watch someone die."
Sakazaki tilted his head back,which made his chin jut out. "It isn't, little bird. Every man dies the same."
"I've only killed one person" she stood up, eyes cold. "It wasn't a man, and it wasn't bloody. It would still be a new experience for me."
Sakazaki scoffed, hairy lips curling upwards. "Asami Ryuichi's bastard, and you haven't killed anyone? They said you fucked the Emirati boy. Did he not have the balls to do it, either?"
Eyes narrowed incredulously, Hisana's mouth dropped open. "Do you think that the only way to teach someone to fear is by killing?" Her bloody finger tapped her cheek, his blood forming red tears on its curve.
His hands fisted, twisting and unconsciously jerking on the handcuffs. Bloody ribcage expanding, he replied, "You aren't going to kill me." The sleazy club owner licked his own blood off of the side of his mouth. "You don't have the stomach for it."
"I believe you," the thin blade glinted. Gold eyes leveled with brown. "You didn't try to kill my father. But don't mistake my belief for fear. You have a long night ahead of you."
"And I don't know who did," Sakazaki's body stayed tense, prepared for the onslaught that was sure to come. The Asami family always struck when it was least expected.
"That's a sha––"
"Asami-sama!" one of the men interrupted loudly. Silence crashed around them as the goons froze. Eyes bulging, they looked to the idiot that dared interrupt the interrogation. Even Sakazaki liked startled.
Knees shaking, a man with cropped hair and a black tie stood. He had been tearing through Sakazaki's files, looking for any useful information or blackmail. His face was ghostly, and he clutched a folder so tightly that it was crumpling before their eyes. He didn't even noticed Suoh's shock or Hisana's murderous expression when he thrust the folder into her hands with a jerky bow. "H…he…here,"
Knife slipping between her fingers like a cigarette, she licked her thumb and flipped the file open. It must have been something awful. The man shook in terror akin to watching his children being beheaded. And when she flipped the file open, her mouth dropped open and she gasped––truly gasped before snapping the file shut so quickly that Kirshima took a brisk step forward.
"Is this true?" her voice was soft, but burning––lava boiling beneath earth. "Did this happen?"
Sakazaki wheezed uncomfortably. His heartbeat sped up, his palms began to sweat. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes," she closed her eyes, trying to get the wretched image out of her mind. But it was burned into her retinas, forever tattooed on the back of her eyelids. She would see it every time she closed her eyes. "You know exactly what this is."
"I know," Sakazakis head dropped forward. Any hopes of a merciful death evaporated in an instant.
"Asami-sama?" Kirishima glanced at his partner who shrugged. Neither of them saw what caused the girl such distress.
"Are. They. Real?" she enunciated each word. Golden eyes bore into Sakazaki's chest like steel, flaying him open much like Suoh's knife. She waited impatiently for him to answer.
"Of course they're real," snapped the dying club owner. "I don't hold onto forgeries, darling. They have no place in business and can be disproven in ten minutes!" Anger coursed through his body, seeping into his fragrant blood. He was furious that he had been caught by his own carelessness. Had he not taunted her father in such a way, his secrets––Akihito's secret––would be safe.
Now she knew.
And now she had to clean this entire fucked up mess before her father found out. He would be weak from the attack on his life; he wouldn't be able to handle Akihito's betrayal.
"You did good work," the heiress tried to stay calm. Her shoulders quivered and the hand holding the knife went lax. The knife clattered to the floor. The guard looked up. He had wisely kept his head bowed while he waited for her fury. The rest of her men edged closer, curious about what had been discovered. No one could imagine something so awful that it would make grown men tremble. At least, nothing that could fit in a folder. "And good work is rewarded well at Sion."
The man––she didn't even know his name––looked up, mouth agape in awe. "Asami-sama?" he asked disbelievingly. A cartoon man would have made a show of cleaning out his ears.
Jerking her gun from its holster on her hip, she shot the guard twice. Point blank. In the frontal lobe. His eyes sagged as blood and brain exploded from the back of his head. The rest of the guards could barely move before she turned on them, finger squeezing the trigger repeatedly. It was a scene from a movie. Blood flew everywhere, carried by the current from the air conditioner. Her men didn't understand. Some fell to their knees, others went for their guns.
When her clip ran out she dropped the gun and pulled out another. In a matter of seconds, fifteen men lay on the ground. Her men, murdered by her own hand. Blood streamed down Sakazaki's pristine walls, men lay in heaps on the floor. One had been shot in the throat. His blood gurgled and popped like spit bubbles as he struggled to breathe.
In the epicenter of the room, in the eye of her infuriated storm, sat Sakazaki. He bled profusely, but had not been shot. Kirishima and Suoh stood motionless behind her, unsure about what had happened. Their guns were still safely in their respective holsters; even as she gunned down their comrades, they stood loyal.
Walking over to the man who's throat popped blood like bubblegum, she cocked back the hammer on her 9mm. "N…no…" the guard looked to be in his late forties. "Plea…" he struggled to breathe. Pulling out his own gun, Hisana nearly fired but then he put it to his own temple. "It wa…my…pleas–*pop*–sure to…gasp…serve you…"
She jumped when the gun went off.
Still clutching the folder, Hisana stepped through the dark, oxygenated blood. Setting her gun on Sakazaki's lap, she leaned in closely. "What was this?"
The club owner dropped his head to the side. Their cheeks pressed together. Strain as they might, Suoh and Kirishima could not hear what was whispered. "Payment for information."
Her eyes narrowed, "So he was willing?"
Sakazaki smiled. The seeds of doubt had been planted. He might be dying, but the photographer was short for the world, too. The heiress was volatile when angry, and if he had raped the photographer, she would have forgiven him. No no no. This time, the truth would hurt more, would do more damage. He thought along the same lines as Hisana. If Asami found out, it would destroy him. "More willing than he is with Asami, little girl. He got to enjoy it for once it."
Hearing all she needed to, Hisana pulled back. She pressed her gun to his forehead. "You're lucky I don't have time to make this hurt more. Any last words?"
The man looked up at her with deep brown eyes. "I could teach what it means to be strong. How to rule this world and keep dimwits in the palm of your hand. Now that your father is dying, you need a teacher."
"My father isn't dying," she corrected the man. "And I need nothing from you."
"You need better lies," Sakazaki prodded the bull. He had less than a minute's worth of life in him, be it from blood loss or her bullet. "For a girl who's never killed before, you're good at it." He looked at the still bodies of her father's loyal men.
"Their deaths are on your head, not mine," she pulled the trigged. The bullet exploded from the metal barrel. It spun in the air, digging into Sakazaki's cranium where it bounced around, eviscerating his brain.
The moment she fired, Asami Hisana pivoted. Suoh and Kirishima had started forward, but they quickly stopped to put their hands into the air. "Do we have a problem, gentlemen? Or do I need to shoot you, too?"
"Hisana," Suoh's deep voice rumbled in his chest. He wasn't angry about the deaths of their men, but saddened. The girl he had known for so long evaporated before his eyes, consumed by a monster that he never thought possible.
"I can't," she shook her head. Eyes closed, the heiress forced back the tears. "I can't tell you. You'll have to tell my dad. Neither of you can keep a secret from him."
"What's in the folder?" Kirishima asked.
"Can you trust me? Both of you?" her hand shook. For the first time that night, she was afraid of what would happen, afraid that she may have to kill two people that she loved dearly. "Can you trust me enough to know that you can't know what's in here?"
Suoh lowered his hands, as did the secretary. They did not speak for a minute. Heads turning, they looked at each other. Words were not needed now, for they both knew the other's answer. "Of course," the body guard replied.
"If it means protecting you and your father, we don't need to know," agreed Kirishima.
Hisana tried to swallow the cancerous lump in her throat. "Thank you," her voice was as soft as a summer's breeze.
"Now," Kirishima put a hand on her shoulder. The teen clutched the folder tightly to her breast, afraid that someone may try to rip it from her hands. "We need to leave, and get this place cleaned up."
"Do whatever you think it best," Hisana followed Suoh out of the office door. "I trust you. And send the families of these men grievance packages. They died honorably in service."
"Of course, Asami-sama."
***Hurt***
Ryuichi was sleeping soundly. It was not a medically induced slumber, where his chest breathed heavily, but a natural sleep: soft and restful. For the first time in three days, he looked healthier. The photographer's onus slowly lifted. His lover wasn't out of the woods yet, but the outlook was no longer uncertain. As long as they followed Reiko-sensei's every instruction, the fixer would pull through.
After the doctor had left, Akihito sat next to his recumbent lover, stroking his hand tenderly. He briefed Ryu on the happenings of the past few days. His lover was not shocked that his daughter had stepped into his shoes, and he told Akihito not to bother her at Sion. He would see her when she came home.
Every time the fixer moved, a pained expression crossed his handsome face. Akihito was always there, offering to help or to get him pain medicine or lift him up. Asami scowled. He was never one to take a sick day, and did not appreciate other's doting on him. "I'm fine, Akihito," he would say. But his speech was slurred and it was impossible for him to focus on anything. Whatever pain meds Reiko-sensei had given him were working. Akihito half hoped that the drugs would make Asami say loopy things. No such luck; having that as blackmail material would have come in useful on a rainy day.
Akihito kept muttering adoring phrases all day. He knew that the man could hear him, and in case anything happened during the night, he wanted Asami to know. "I love you," he pressed kisses to the fixer's smooth forehead. "So much. I love you."
During brief moments of sentience, the golden eyed man would smile. Cracked lips moved but no words ever came out. They didn't need to be said aloud, however, for Akihito knew what Asami was trying say. Instead, Akihito would shush the man and rub lip balm over his mouth. He knew firsthand how uncomfortable chapped lips were, and he wanted Asami to be comfortable in every way possible.
"I love you."
"I love you,"
"…I love you…"
It was a little after eleven when the penthouse door opened. Akihito was on his feet as Asimov ran to the front. He hadn't expected Hisana home so early, assuming that after the legal business was seen to, there would be illegal business. Smiling, he couldn't wait to tell her about her father. She would be overjoyed to know that he was doing well, aside from the pain.
"Hisan––" her name died on his lips. Her face was bloodless, as white as milk and her eyes were as red as her lipstick. Behind her, Suoh and Kirishima shifted uncomfortably. Something terrible had happened. "What's wrong?"
"Out!" whipping around, she looked at every guard in the penthouse. "Everybody out now!"
The photojournalist scrunched his face up. This was new. "What's going on?" he asked to anyone that would answer.
"OUT!" Hisana screamed. Her entire body shook; in her hand was a creased folder than stained by dark brown splatter. His heart froze. Blood. It was blood on the folder, and she was splattered with in. So were Kirishima and Suoh.
Suoh jerked his head and immediately the suited goons filed out of the door. Kirishima shut the door. They refused to leave the enraged woman alone with the unsuspecting Takaba Akihito, but they agreed to give her privacy.
Grabbing Akihito's shirt with her free hand, she drug the photographer out. Away from the safety of the four walls and the prying ears of her uncles'. Away from her father, who was now able to wake. "What the fucking hell is wrong with you?" Hisana threw him into the open air of the night.
The wind whipped around them. Stepping around the snow with his bare feet, Akihito raked his hair away from his face and clutched the front of his shirt, pulling it snug across his body. He was in his pajamas, and his pajamas were made for heated air, not snowy nights. "What are you talking about?" he shouted back at Hisana. "I have no idea what's going on!"
"Did you think that you could get away with it? That no one would ever find out?" she screamed.
Akihito glanced around them. They were on the highest floor of the tallest building in the area, but any moment, lights from surrounding condos would flip on. Damn, Hisana had a set of pipes of her. "Get away with what?" he tried to keep his voice calm. If he stayed calm, hopefully she would emulate him. "I don't know what you're talking about! I promise!"
"Oh ho ho!" Hisana shoved him, pushing the folder into his hands. "Don't lie to me!"
"I'm not––"
Words failed him. Opening the folder, his soul left his body. He watched the scene unfold from above. He saw the dumbfounded expression on his face, the fury that encapsulated Hisana until she could not think coherently. "No!" he looked up, his face just as pale as her's. "No! No!" His hands shook as he looked at the pictures of him sucking Sakazaki off. "This isn't what you think it is!"
"What am I supposed to think?" she shoved him. Akihito tottered back. He fisted the glossy photos, so clear that he could see his pores and the pink zit on his cheek. "He said you liked it! That it was payment!"
"No! I mean, yes! It was payment!" he struggled to get the right words out. The wild look in her eyes made his heart race and the way she brushed her fingers over the handle of her glock. Her love for her father superseded all else, and for the first time, Akihito thought she might kill him to preserve Asami Ryuichi. "I didn't enjoy it! I wouldn't––you know that!"
"You went back," she took another threatening step towards him. "You say you didn't like it, but you went back to him! You don't look like this anymore!" She stabbed the photos with her finger. His chest buckled. "This wasn't last week!"
"I wasn't there to see him! I was following a lead!" the photographer watched Kirishima and Suoh. They kept their eyes trained on them, in case of emergency or attack. But Hisana edged him closer to the wall of the balcony, farther from Asami's most loyal men. "You have to believe me!"
"Why should I?" she screamed. "You're fucking him! The proof is right there!"
His back hit the railed wall. It was cement, hitting the small of his back. Akihito did not look over it. He knew that if he did, he'd be sick. They were up high above the clouds, and the heiress was so infuriated that she could push him over with very little effort. He did not want his last sight in the world to be the concrete. "I needed his information!" He blinked tears. "It was," he struggled to draw his next breath, to explain why it had happened. "It was to help Ryu! He needed…I couldn't stand by and…and…"
"No!" Hisana snarled. Grabbing his collar, she pushed her body against his. Akihito bent backwards, head in the open night. "No!" This was it. One little shove and he was dead. He deserved it; he caused this. It was time to lie in the bed he made.
"Hisana!" Suoh and Kirishima burst through the balcony doors, hands outstretched. They would rip her away from Akihito if necessary and quite suddenly, the photographer wished they wouldn't. He had betrayed Asami, and this was the consequence.
"You're supposed to be better than we are!" Hisana screamed. Tears poured down her face as her eyes met his. "You aren't supposed to do things like that!"
"Hisana," his voice was soft.
The girl jerked away from the photographer who stumbled forward, falling onto his knees. He clutched the folder to his chest. Both Kirishima and Suoh stared at it curiously. His stomach twisted sickeningly when he realized that they had no idea what had happened with Sakazaki. Only Hisana. She was protecting him, and that made this all the worse.
"That's shit we would do!" Hisana beat her chest, her eyes locked on Akihito. "Not you! You're too good for that shit! How dare you? How dare you?" Dropping to her knees in front of Akihito, she pulled him into a fierce hug. "He can't know," she whispered into his ear. "It would…" she couldn't finish the words but she didn't need to.
Akihito knew what she was saying. If Asami ever found out…not only would it be the end of them, but the fixer would be blind in his fury. No one could guarantee Akihito's life then. "I know," he hugged her just as tightly. "I'm sorry. So sorry. It wasn't…I wasn't trying to…"
"I know," the girl replied. "You'd be dead right now if you ere."
Akihito chuckled uncomfortably. He believed the threat wholeheartedly. He was half convinced that she still might shoot him. After all, she was covered in blood that was obviously not her own.
Pulling back, Hisana blinked her eyes. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and her anger morphed into terror. Squeezing her hands together, the girl took a shaky breath. "I'm going to ask you something that I don't want to ask. But I have to," looking up at the sky, she tried her best to keep the tears in. Letting out a slow breath to steady her body, Hisana licked her lips. And asked the one question Akihito hoped she never would.
"Did my dad rape you?"
The air was sucked out f the world. Suoh and Kirishima, who had hovered like protectors, turned into stone. Their eyes were wide and their bodies heavy. Neither could move, could stop Takaba from answering. It was inconceivable that the heiress would even ask such a question, yet here it was, and no one had discussed what to say.
The elephant in the room had been addressed at last.
"No," Akihito was shocked at how firm his voice was. Kirishima's pupils constricted. The secretary was shocked by the brat's poker face as well.
"Don't lie to me," Hisana's voice warbled. "My dad isn't a nice guy. I know what he's capable…capable of… Tell me truth, Akihito. Please," the last word was so quiet that he had to strain to hear it in a silent world.
Hand shaking, he put it on her shoulder. Sakazaki must have alluded to it. How he knew about the beginning of their relationship, Akihito did not give it any thought. The how didn't matter; she heard the rumor at last and was brave enough to ask him about it.
"No," Akihito didn't even think about the lie. It slipped through his teeth before his brain processed the entire question. Hisana was lying to protect him, and to protect her father. He would not shatter the illusion of a princess. Her father meant the world to Hisana, and Akihito did not want her perception of him. "Listen to me, Hisana," Akihito grabbed the sobbing girl's face. "You're father is the love of my life. I would never hurt him, and he wouldn't never hurt me. Look at me, Hisana!" he forced her gold eyes to meet his. "Sakazaki was trying to get into your head. We're happy together. It isn't…" he stumbled over the words. This was so not how he expected his night to go. "…like that."
Dropping her head down, Hisana sobbed. He didn't know if she believed him, if these were tears of relief or sorrow. But her body crumpled forward and she sobbed loudly as the night's events sunk in.
***Hurt***
"Do you want these back?" Akihito was the first to break the silence. Kirishima and Suoh finally left, and the regular guards had returned to their posts. It was nearly two o'clock now, and Hisana sat next to him as they watched Ryu sleep. His chest moved up and down; he was breathing predominately on his own.
"No," Hisana shook her head. "They're yours. Do whatever you want with them."
"I thought you might want them," he flushed, embarrassed by his thoughts, "For blackmail. Just in case."
She shook her head. Legs pulled to her chest, she folded her arms on her knees and rested her cheek there. "No. I'll never say anything about tonight."
"Oh," that was not what Ryuichi would have done. His lover was ruthless, and would have kept any advantage over anyone, ally or opponent. Hisana's dead eyes stared at Ryu. Aki wanted to ask if she believed him, but that would let her know he was lying. The best thing he could do was let her mull it over, convince herself that Sakazaki was lying and hopefully the hero-worship would return to her eyes. If Ryu were to awake at that very moment, there would be very little love in Hisana's gaze.
"I'll be back in a second," the photographer stood up. Walking to his darkroom, he looked at the folder in his hand. Three hours later and he had yet to let it go. No one questioned him about it, but it received several poignant stares.
No one ever came into his darkroom. It would be safe here. Perhaps he should have burned them, Akihito thought as he slid the folder in with a thousand other prints that no eye would ever see. Keeping the photos close were a reminder of how he had failed Asami, of his one transgression. Akihito was afraid that if he burned his scarlet letter, that he would be doomed to repeat his mistakes.
No, it would be better to keep them near. As a reminder of what love would drive him to do. Because he truly loved Asai Ryuichi with all of his heart, and he would do whatever was necessary to protect that man.