Six Months Later - Part 5
The pale light of winter dawn colors the spacious office with shades of sickly yellow. The rays creep deeper and deeper into the room. They soon reach the dark luster of the desk, crawl through the scattered papers, peek playfully through the empty bottle of whiskey, and finally find the large body slumbering on the leather armchair. As light caresses his cheeks, Asami opens his eyes to gaze at the window. Watching the sun dawn through Tokyo’s skyscrapers has always given him a good energy boost. But this morning, all he can feel is emptiness and exhaustion. Maybe I’m just getting old. He stretches and lets out a tired chuckle. Hiding from the truth again, Ryuuichi? What a weakling you’ve become. He takes a deep breathe and rubs his eyes for a few seconds; then he stands up, feels his aching back with his fingers, and heads to the bathroom. The countless details of today’s busy schedule will have to wait until after he takes a hot shower.
Four boring meetings later, Asami feels like bringing down the walls of the conference room with a scream. He curses silently at the schedule chart in front of him: one hour for lunch break, then more meetings until 6, then a reception at the Ministry of Defense at 7.30. He turns to the tall, blond bodyguard standing close. “Akira, I’ll be back in Sion in an hour. You should take the hour off as well.” The huge man waits until Asami puts on his coat, then takes a hesitant step ahead. “Actually, Asami-sama... Would you mind if I join you for lunch, sir? There is something...personal I would like to discuss with you.” The unusual request fires up the yakuza’s curiosity. “Certainly, Akira. I hope you like sushi.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
As the heavy door of the office closes behind him, Asami stands for a few moments in the empty darkness cherishing the peaceful silence. Then he reaches for the light switch on the wall to his right, sighing in relief that the series of meetings is finally over. He heads to the mini bar, opens a new bottle of whiskey and pours a generous portion in a glass. Rubbing his neck with one hand, he reaches the desk and sinks in the leather armchair. Thoughts of Akira come immediately to occupy his mind. So the bastard is getting married. Asami smirks in amusement as he imagines the stiff man being forced to dance at his wedding party. That woman will have her hands full. The yakuza takes another sip of the amber liquid. When Akira gave him a report of his personal plans, he was shocked to hear that his employee still intended to keep his current position. “You know better than anyone, Akira, that being my personal bodyguard puts you in a very precarious position. Will you still be able to forget about your family and protect me with your life? How does your wife feel about the prospect of becoming a widow at any given moment? Is she aware of the dangers she runs by being married to someone so close to Asami Ryuuichi? Are you willing to let her take the risk?” Asami grinds his teeth as he recalls the conversation in his mind’s eye. He almost lost his self-control at that moment, pouring forth one question after another with such agony that made poor Akira jerk in surprise. “If you still trust me, Asami-sama, I won’t leave your side.” The response came with a calm and sober voice. “I know the risks. So does Keiko-chan. We had a long, sincere discussion about my job after I proposed. I asked her to take her time to decide if she is willing to shoulder the entire burden with me.” Akira’s angelic smile left the yakuza thunderstruck. “Turns out my Keiko is a very brave woman, boss.”
You are both brave, Akira. Sadness sinks Asami deeper into the armchair. I envy you. He lets the scotch burn his throat, then reaches for his cigarettes. He closes his eyes, inhales the smoke deeply, and then lets it out with a soft sigh. Akihito... Memories of last night’s encounter take over him as a tide. “I hate you” The words of his former lover bite Asami like a deadly snake. No, you don’t. You can’t... Asami becomes restless in his armchair. As he surveys his desk for an ashtray, he strives to calm the heart that races frantically in his chest. You are so weak, Ryuuichi. You decide to leave Japan for a whole year, yet you buy a one-way ticket back after six months. You resolve to keep away from him, but you leave your own party just for one stealthy glimpse. You spend a whole night by his bed, still you seek another encounter in less than 24 hours-and, when you see him, you act like a mad man. The yakuza chuckles bitterly at himself. Even now, you secretly wish he will be covering the reception. He crushes his cigarette, closes his eyes, and lets out a deep sigh. Maybe I should just admit defeat. Maybe it’s time we had a long, sincere chat of our own, Akihito. A soft knock on the other side of the door brings the man back to reality. He looks at his watch: 7.20pm. “I’ll be right there, Akira.” The yakuza stands up, puts on his iron mask, and heads to the door.
Four boring meetings later, Asami feels like bringing down the walls of the conference room with a scream. He curses silently at the schedule chart in front of him: one hour for lunch break, then more meetings until 6, then a reception at the Ministry of Defense at 7.30. He turns to the tall, blond bodyguard standing close. “Akira, I’ll be back in Sion in an hour. You should take the hour off as well.” The huge man waits until Asami puts on his coat, then takes a hesitant step ahead. “Actually, Asami-sama... Would you mind if I join you for lunch, sir? There is something...personal I would like to discuss with you.” The unusual request fires up the yakuza’s curiosity. “Certainly, Akira. I hope you like sushi.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
As the heavy door of the office closes behind him, Asami stands for a few moments in the empty darkness cherishing the peaceful silence. Then he reaches for the light switch on the wall to his right, sighing in relief that the series of meetings is finally over. He heads to the mini bar, opens a new bottle of whiskey and pours a generous portion in a glass. Rubbing his neck with one hand, he reaches the desk and sinks in the leather armchair. Thoughts of Akira come immediately to occupy his mind. So the bastard is getting married. Asami smirks in amusement as he imagines the stiff man being forced to dance at his wedding party. That woman will have her hands full. The yakuza takes another sip of the amber liquid. When Akira gave him a report of his personal plans, he was shocked to hear that his employee still intended to keep his current position. “You know better than anyone, Akira, that being my personal bodyguard puts you in a very precarious position. Will you still be able to forget about your family and protect me with your life? How does your wife feel about the prospect of becoming a widow at any given moment? Is she aware of the dangers she runs by being married to someone so close to Asami Ryuuichi? Are you willing to let her take the risk?” Asami grinds his teeth as he recalls the conversation in his mind’s eye. He almost lost his self-control at that moment, pouring forth one question after another with such agony that made poor Akira jerk in surprise. “If you still trust me, Asami-sama, I won’t leave your side.” The response came with a calm and sober voice. “I know the risks. So does Keiko-chan. We had a long, sincere discussion about my job after I proposed. I asked her to take her time to decide if she is willing to shoulder the entire burden with me.” Akira’s angelic smile left the yakuza thunderstruck. “Turns out my Keiko is a very brave woman, boss.”
You are both brave, Akira. Sadness sinks Asami deeper into the armchair. I envy you. He lets the scotch burn his throat, then reaches for his cigarettes. He closes his eyes, inhales the smoke deeply, and then lets it out with a soft sigh. Akihito... Memories of last night’s encounter take over him as a tide. “I hate you” The words of his former lover bite Asami like a deadly snake. No, you don’t. You can’t... Asami becomes restless in his armchair. As he surveys his desk for an ashtray, he strives to calm the heart that races frantically in his chest. You are so weak, Ryuuichi. You decide to leave Japan for a whole year, yet you buy a one-way ticket back after six months. You resolve to keep away from him, but you leave your own party just for one stealthy glimpse. You spend a whole night by his bed, still you seek another encounter in less than 24 hours-and, when you see him, you act like a mad man. The yakuza chuckles bitterly at himself. Even now, you secretly wish he will be covering the reception. He crushes his cigarette, closes his eyes, and lets out a deep sigh. Maybe I should just admit defeat. Maybe it’s time we had a long, sincere chat of our own, Akihito. A soft knock on the other side of the door brings the man back to reality. He looks at his watch: 7.20pm. “I’ll be right there, Akira.” The yakuza stands up, puts on his iron mask, and heads to the door.