Last Word 3/3 - kurosaki9 and randrews25 version

[clarounette]

Night had come over Tokyo’s restless streets. Idle students could be seen going to karaokes and cinemas, employees finishing their tiresome working day by heading to bars with their colleagues for a few drinks, nightlife’s professionals. Everybody was walking in streaming lines in front of the city’s lit up façades.

Comfortably sitting at the back of his limo, was Asami, sipping his Cognac, staring up ahead deep in thought . His cell phone rang and he let it ring for a couple of seconds before picking it up.

“Asami speaking… No… Absolutely not.” He hung up without bidding goodbye. He was used to making deals and negotiations from his car, and had gotten into the habit of giving short but meaningful words as responses. He did not beat around the bush. No... there was no need for it. He always got straight to the point.

Kirishima glanced back at his boss through the rear-view mirror. Because he had spent so many years by the man’s side, he was able to see under the calm exterior how tired and worn he really was. Why did he look so much colder than usual? Was it because of what happened?

His hands tightened around the wheel. Traffic was terrible despite the early hour. He had to keep looking ahead, trying not to think too much about Akihito’s inert body at the back. Seeking strength to not cry out in angry frustration, the older man picked up the phone, punching in the number he needed and waited for someone to answer the phone. It had not taken long to get in contact with Kirishima.

“Takaba was attacked at the docks. I’m currently driving him to the hospital. You’re to find the son of a bitch who did this to him!”

“Sir?” Kirishima seemed confused by the man’s lack of control. Keeping his head but failing, the older man hung up before he lost composer on his secretary. The man trusted him to the point of knowing that he would see through the mission he had given him. Asami had run a stop light at this point but he had not cared about anyone else’s safety but his.

Buildings passed by like blurs. He passed numerous cars that had begun to crowd the streets. It was then that he had spotted the hospital. He couldn’t afford to panic. He just couldn’t.

The limousine stopped in front of Club Sion, passer byes glancing curiously at the luxurious car with tinted windows for a minute, before they were on their way.
Kirishima stepped out of the driver’s seat and went around to the other side of the sedan and opened the door for the man.

The businessman left the car and walked to his club’s front door. The impressive stone building contrasting with the glass-and-steel towers stood standing on each side of the street. After entering, he headed straight for the elevator that would take him to the third and last floor, which was where his spacious office was and personal accommodations. The first floor was completely occupied for club purposes while the second floor offered private rooms. He vividly remembered keeping Akihito locked up on the third floor for three days. Akihito…

At this point, only the club’s windows were lighted. The rest of the building was shrouded in darkness. The man looked back at his subordinate before looking forward again.

The car door was slammed behind him. A young valet took the keys out of Kirishima’s hands, and the secretary followed his boss.

Tires screeched on the road as he haphazardly braked to a stop in front of the hospital. He had opened the car door while the car was still running before opening the rear door to take his lover out. The poor boy was dead weight in his arms, but he was still breathing, although rather shallowly. He shook his head, trying not to think of the outcome to this if he was not able to make it.

“Wounded person here! Get a fucking move on!” yelled Asami at the men in white coats. The men had begun to get on with his command rapidly as they had taken in his arrival. A stretcher had been rolled in front of him and he carefully set Akihito on it. The nurses shouted orders around him that he had no interest in. All he cared about was the limp body being rolled away. The medics placed an oxygen mask on Akihito’s face and Asami was overwhelmed with questions as he followed the medics inside.

Sion’s glass doors opened, and a stunning blonde came out. The two guards greeted her. She took the hem of her elegant black dress in her hand so she could step carefully down the stairs with elegance. Each step she took would let the delicate curves of her legs be seen. At the bottom of the stairs, she looked up at Asami and smiled. She went up to him, offering her hand, adorned with crimson nails.

“Asami, what a good surprise!” she said in English.
“Miss Johnson.” He said, brushing her pale hand with his lips, bowing respectfully.
“Dad says hello. He enjoyed your last meeting and hopes to make a deal with you shortly.”
“I’ll contact him soon. Would you please excuse me…” said the man, bowing down quickly before slipping away.

A petite blonde woman came up to him in a white coat, a badge on her chest indicating that she was a doctor. He took it upon himself not to slap her hand away when she prevented him from following his lover into the operating room.

“Excuse-me, I have some questions about that young man. Are you two relatives?”
“No, he’s a close friend.” He felt something boiling in him, screaming at him for his cowardice. How could he not tell the woman that Akihito belonged to him? Why had he needed to think of a lie? He nonetheless answered the woman’s questions, but he did not want to divulge too much information about Akihito.

Asami went through the door nonchalantly, being welcomed by his employees as he strode in. He stopped for a moment by the hostess who was in charge of reception and guiding of clients and guests, to know who was present tonight. Not noticing any remarkable names, he went on to the main room.

A jazz band that had flown in from USA, was playing a sweet and sensual piece. Wall-mounted, well-designed lamps gave off a subdued light. Conversations were coming from the central tables from the alcoves. Waiters moved skilfully between the sofas and window boxes, leaving the clients’ orders on the tables. Two huge aquariums decorated the walls in an ethereal way. Everything was quiet and elegant.

Asami nodded to some entertainment and political celebrities who were enjoying themselves in his club. There was, of course, a more discreet entrance to reach his office without being approached, but he usually walked through the main room to keep in touch with his associates-to-be or the soon-to-be victims of his plots. He went to a mahogany door on which a metallic plaque hung that read “Private. Staff only”.

The doctor had left several minutes ago leaving him to walk back and forth in the hallway. His eyes went immediately to the swinging doors every time they opened to see if there was any information about Akihito’s condition. Beyond those double doors laid Akihito, between the grips of life and death.

Families going through the corridor to and fro made no pause to look at him; after all they were here for another invalid. He heard the distinct sounds of a sick child throwing up noisily at a distance; heard a crying baby trying to be hushed by his frazzled mother. He would have given anything to have Akihito out of this situation. He hated being in these kind of surroundings. He would give anything to trade places with his lover.

The older man’s cell rings, earning a nurse’s cold glare, pointing at a wall nearby. Asami followed the woman’s finger, coming across a sign that forbid cell phones in the reception. He shrugged. He didn’t care about the damn hospital’s rules. He had things he needed to do in order to capture the son of a bitch who had so dastardly hurt his Akihito.

“Sir, we’ve found the guys who attacked Takaba-san. What should we do now?” Kirishima’s words were reassuring. He needed something to get his mind off of what might be happening beyond those doors to his lover.

“Did they talk?”
“Yes. It seems that they acted against Takaba-san to get revenge against you.”

“Kill them,” he growls out, flinging his cell against the wall. It exploded into tiny pieces by the force, frightening the nurse nearby. It gave him a sense of satisfaction having someone who didn’t know him, fear him. But he still felt guilty about putting his lover in danger. ‘Akihito... Forgive me...’

Even though there were only three floors, an elevator had been installed to reach the private accommodations. Asami got off and walked through the hallway to reach his office door. Behind him, was Suoh, who had followed him since his arrival, who took his place near the lift cage. Asami had so many enemies and the man had to be protected at all times.

Suoh was his most loyal bodyguard, and the most knowledgeable. The businessman was sure nothing could happen to him if Suoh was right beside him. A glance at his impressive physique, showed a tall frame with impassive eyes and a cold face that was more than enough to render the most aggressive of people speechless.

Asami opened the heavy door to his office and was welcomed with darkness. He walked blindly between the sparse furniture towards the window, not bothering to turn on a light. Night was his playing field and he wasn’t afraid of it. But it had lost some of its power as it had begun to attract tourists from all over the world. It had become bright with lights and noise, even at this late hour.

Leaning on the windowsill, Asami looked down at the shops and restaurants that held multicoloured signs. The yellow and red trails of a car’s headlights could be seen roaming the streets, one among a sea of multicoloured indicators.

He had been waiting in the corridor for a little more than an hour. Kirishima had arrived a couple of minutes ago and had reassured the man that he didn’t have anything else to fear for Takaba’s safety.

The light above the swinging doors turned off a couple of minutes later. Asami hurried to meet with the surgeon who had been in charge of Akihito. He had seen the man’s complexion and presence and he could only see the colour red. Even with the man’s green surgeon coat, he recognize the colour. The man had a tired look at in his eyes as his gaze met his. Something looked wrong. ‘No... it couldn’t be.... Akihito...’

“Are you Asami?” asked the man and Asami nodded in response.
“We did everything we could, but his heart couldn’t hold out for any longer. He had lost so much blood. We stopped trying to bring him back to life after the fourth time. I’m sorry.”

Asami couldn’t hear the man anymore. He slammed the closest thing he could reach for, a chair, against the wall as he howled in rage. Kirishima had expected some kind of reaction to the news but he couldn’t help but jump. The man met eyes with his boss and he couldn’t see anything but distress in the older man’s eyes.

Asami closed his eyes to block out the distinct stares he was getting, while trying to calm himself before he decided to leave the hospital, with Kirishima following him out the door. His car was parked out at the front but he did not glance at it as he proceeded to walk out on to the street.

With his forehead against the cool glass, Asami sighed, then straightened his back. He went to sit at his desk, where the comfortable black-leather armchair was. He turned on a little lamp in front of him, the rest of the room still basking in the dark. He thought he saw a silhouette moving in the darkness. He knew it was just a figment of his imagination. A mere ghost. He sighed again. Fighting a losing battle, he plunged his hand into his suit’s pocket and took out a cigarette. He placed the cancer stick between his lips and lit it up with a golden lighter. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the taste of the tobacco filling his lungs. He closed his eyes for a second.

Silence engulfed the room like a thick blanket. The street’s noise couldn’t penetrate through the thick glass of the window. The darkness and silence surrounding him gave him the distinct feeling of being trapped in a mausoleum. Ironically enough, it almost felt like the truth. He had after all lost so much that night…

He crushed his cigarette in an ashtray and called his secretary through the intercom on his desk.

“Kirishima, I’m waiting for your report.”
“Yes sir, I’m coming right away.”

As soon as he had cut the line, someone knocked on the door. His secretary, a man you’d come to respect not because of his stature and serious look that reflected against glasses, came in with files under his arm. The man wasn’t surprised by the darkness surrounding the room.

“Should I make a report about this week’s results, sir?”
“No, just a quick statement, then leave the files on my desk.”
“Yes sir.”

Kirishima went quickly through the files to recollect and choose information to tell his boss.

“It seems we have a spectacular development in current drug sales. This month’s profits increased about 15% in relation to last month’s. The reasons of for this sudden success are still…”

“Thank you, Kirishima, you may leave” interrupted Asami abruptly.

Surprised by the businessman’s tone, the secretary bowed down to the man before walking out silently, and closing the door with a small click following behind him.

Asami knew why that field was so successful. After Akihito’s attack, his aggressors had been slaughtered. A lot of people in the underworld saw this as the disposal of possible competitors and little sellers had decided to flee away from the city, so buyers had been forced to turn to him. But all these thoughts made him remember the circumstances of his lover’s death and it managed to throw him more and more into a painful gloom. He lit up another cigarette to soothe himself somewhat.

After walking for hours, he had gone back home, taken a shower and changed into a different suit before heading back to his club.

He felt that absorbing himself in his work would help him forget what had happened but that had not managed to work. Sitting behind his desk, paperwork strewn out in front of him, he couldn’t stop seeing Akihito’s bloody body laying down on the dock, or his extremely livid face when he had put him down on the stretcher.

He had been afraid of being officially mixed up in the young photographer’s death and of being accountable to the police - who was waiting for him to make a mistake to lock him up. So he got rid of everything that would prove his involvement. Even the medics had been bribed or threatened to make them forget that he had been in the emergency room. He would have given anything to be able to forget the same way…

Kirishima was informing him every day of the investigation’s progress, and he knew that Akihito’s corpse was kept so they could make an autopsy after his death in the hospital. But the young man’s family soon asked for the remains so that they could lay him to rest with dignity. So, not a week after he carried his dying lover in his arms, Asami would see him again, in as tragic circumstances as this time.

He arrived in front of the little house of the Takaba. Build in the outskirts, it took advantage of the quiet and restful atmosphere. The dashing white façade was effectively hiding the grief inside. If he hadn’t known what was waiting for him in it, he would have been glad to enter a house so peaceful and well held. But in that case, he was afraid to cross the threshold. Though he couldn’t back down, he knocked on the door.

A small woman with light hair and hazel eyes opened. He bowed.

“Mrs Takaba, I suppose.”
“You suppose right. To whom have I the pleasure of speaking?”
“I’m a friend of your son. I came to… tell him goodbye.”

Akihito’s mother looked at him for a moment. She never had seen a man like him in his son’s circle of friends. His dark suit seemed expensive, and she couldn’t deny his natural elegance and his aura of charisma. It wasn’t possible that that man could have been a real acquaintance of a boisterous child as her own. Yet she could read his sincerity and the deep sadness in his eyes. She moved aside to let that unknown man in her home.

Asami nervously walked by Akihito’s mother. While he was taking off his shoes in the entryway, he took a look at her. He realized who the young man had inherited his impish look from. Mrs Takaba was about fifty but she looked at least ten years younger. Her lips were pinched and her eyes red, but one could tell she must be beautiful when she smiles, as her son had been. He felt a pang thinking about his deceased lover.

He put his shoes near the dozen others which were already displayed on the entry’s floor. With a wave of her hand and a nod, Mrs Takaba showed him the way to the living-room. From the entryway he could already hear the muffled sounds of tears and sobs. He entered the narrow corridor, noticing the bouquets of flowers that were shrinking it even. There was a lot, and almost all of them were exquisite. They were proof of everybody’s attachment to Akihito.

He went in the living-room. It was a relatively spacious room getting plenty of light from the large picture window on his right. At the back, an altar had been installed where family and friends had put a couple of candles and a box of incense sticks. The sheet covering the low piece of furniture used as an altar was immaculate and rimmed with lace. A sole white rose in a soliflore stood with the ritual objects. On his left, against the wall, Akihito was laying…
Asami gave an imperceptible start when he realized that the Takaba had chosen to show their deceased’s body in his coffin, the accidental way. He was irresistibly drawn to Akihito.

Fighting against his impulse, he decided to follow Mrs Takaba who introduced her husband to him. Asami plunged his hand in his vest and took out an envelope, then he bowed respectfully while offering it. Akihito’s father was noticeably older than his wife. His greying hair and the deep lines of his wrinkles showed this. He too was marked by the grief. He bowed in turn and accepted the envelope.

“Thank you for coming, he said. I’m sure he would have liked to know you were thinking about him.”

It was just a polite phrase, since the Takaba ignored the relationship he had with their son, but it deeply touched Asami. After all, during their last conversation - or what would be the closest to a conversation for them - Akihito had confessed his feelings. Of course he would have liked to know Asami was thinking about him. He even would have wished to hear it from him that night, but he didn’t say anything. And look where he was now.
Akihito’s father turned the envelope over in his hand and his face’s colour changed when he read the written figures. He looked desperately at Asami, speechless.

“Your son was worth it and more” he answered the silent question.
With these words, Mr Takaba took the businessman’s hands in his own and squeezed hard while a tear ran down his cheek. Asami modestly left the grieving Takaba and went to the white glossy coffin. It seemed Akihito’s family chose that colour to show the deceased’s purity. Asami had to admit that, despite the torments he had to endure, Akihito had been able to keep a bit of his innocence along with a pure heart.

In front of the wooden box, two young men were kneeling, one of them crying on the other’s shoulder. Asami recognized Akihito’s friends, the ones he had involuntarily helped getting free when Fei Long took them as hostages. Asami stayed behind until they left then took their place.

Draped in pearly satin and dressed in white, Akihito was peacefully laying. If Asami hadn’t known how he died, he could have thought it happened while sleeping since his smile seemed so natural. But he knew the truth. Once again he was overwhelmed with anger. The aggressors’ slaughtering hadn’t been enough to ease his grief, and now he didn’t have that outlet anymore. He kept looking at the young man’s still face, as if expecting to see him wake up anytime. But the more time pass, the more he understood it wasn’t possible: the body in front of him was nothing more than an empty shell and Akihito, hopefully, had already left for a better world. Though he couldn’t stop from touching him one last time, brushing against his cheek. Then he turned around and left the Takaba’s home.

Asami stretched his hand to the little digital camera on his desk. He had offered it to Akihito at the time of their holidays in the islands, after they had flown from Hong Kong. Only one picture had been taken with it, and Akihito admitted it was one of Asami himself.

That was when he gave the camera to the young man who thanked him with a huge smile that he had realized how important the photographer was for him. Soon after their return in Japan, Akihito had given it back to him, thanking him again but saying that he now wanted to go back to his normal life: he would use his analogue cameras again and get back to work. The poor boy almost succeeded…

He didn’t regret that they had lived together. But Asami decided at this moment to never let anyone else come into his life like Akihito did. He didn’t believe in forever, but love was stronger than Death. He was sure his feelings would come to pass in due time. But he refused to be responsible for an innocent’s death ever again. Now he would live with his remorse.
Asami stood up, walked around his desk and looked one last time through the window before leaving the room, thinking about Akihito’s last words on Earth, which had been for him: “Asami?”

The End