Six Months Later - Part 12
When Shangan Hotel’s Golden Ballroom explodes with wild applause and loud cries of approbation, a deep sigh of relief escapes the wide chest of the yakuza. As much as he loves expensive cloths and signature accessories, he can’t stand the boredom of the runaway or, in fact, the poor taste of untalented designers, such as Mijaki-sensei. Focus, Ryuuichi. This is not meant to be fun. It’s just business. As the tail of the models’ final parade disappears behind the purple velvet drapes, the applause gives way to lively chats and soft laughters. Slowly, the excited crowd makes its way out of the Ballroom and up the stairs to the second floor, where the reception is about to begin. Standing up from his golden seat, Asami stretches discreetly and straightens his jacket. He takes out of the right pocket his cell phone and stares at the dark screen. No calls, no messages. Shit. Just call me, Akihito. He brushes gently the phone with his thump. I can’t stand the wait... He snaps it open and pushes a couple of buttons. A familiar voice greets him on the other end “Yes, Asami-sama?” “Report.” “He is still in his apartment, Sir. He has been here since 4 pm. No visits.” “Good. Anything unusual?” A brief moment of hesitation. “Well, Sir...” “Yes?” “He’s in there but all the lights are off. The apartment has been dark ever since sunset... I don’t know, maybe he’s sleeping...” A frown digs into the yakuza’s face. “Thanks, Akira. Keep watching him. But make sure he doesn’t see you. And notify me immediately if anything happens. Clear?” “Yes, Sir.” As the connection dies, the large man strangles the small, cold machine in his palm, wishing it would scream back the answers to his questions.
“Penny for your thoughts, love.” Startled by the voice, the yakuza turns around to face the man who seems to have appeared out of nowhere. “Hello, Ren.” his sharp greeting barely concealing his annoyance. “Sorry I startled you.” Beaming with his best smile, the model walks slowly towards the mature man, gently pushing a long, black lock away from his shapely face. His flawless, white suit embraces tightly his slender body and his sapphire shirt reflects perfectly the color of his almond-shaped eyes. Putting his arms around Asami’s waist, he presses his body lightly upon his “Did you enjoy the show? Was I good?” Noticing the crowd coming out of the backstage door, the yakuza manages to control his temper. “I wasn’t paying any attention.” he growls. Putting the phone back into his pocket, Asami places one arm around the model and bends to whisper softly into his ear “Time for our show, Fujimoto. Let's head upstairs.” A seductive glow burns in the younger man’s eyes “Yes, honey.”
Walking side by side on the thick black carpet, the two picture-perfect men head towards the exit. “Ren! Wait up!” Still clinging to the yakuza, Fujimoto turns around to the bald man striding briskly from the backstage door towards them. “Mijaki-sensei! Heading to the reception?” “Yes, indeed. I need some champagne!” The model responds with a soft laughter. “That’s right! Time to celebrate your success, sensei!” As the designer’s gaze falls with curiosity on Asami’s back, Ren takes the initiative. “Oh, you haven’t met, have you? Please, let me introduce you.” Silently cursing his luck, the yakuza finally turns around to face the designer. “Darling, this is Mijaki-sensei. Sensei, this is Asami Ryuuichi.” Extending his hand for a handshake, the larger man offers a kind smile and a lie “Nice to meet you, sensei. I find your work very interesting. Thank you for the great show.” The bald man swells with pride. “Thank you so much, Asami-san.” He squeezes the man’s hand with a stupid grin “It is a pleasure to finally meet the man who captured Ren’s heart. When I heart him talking about you to that journalist this morning, I got so curious! Well, now I can see why he is so enthralled with you, my friend!” Absorbed by his monologue, the designer barely notices the twitch on Asami’s face. “Oh? He was talking about me?” Two golden orbs blazing with anger nail Fujimoto’s sapphire gaze, almost surprised at its confidence. “Yes, yes,” the bald man continues his babbling as if drunk already, “Ren accidentally came in when I was giving an interview to the Tokyo Daily. The journalist turned out to be a huge fan of his...she even squealed when she saw him!” A brief, annoying giggle. “Anyway, she asked about your relationship and Ren responded with a shockingly profound love confession! I’ve never seen him like that.” A public love confession? The yakuza grits his teeth to stop the angry growl from bursting out. “Well, I guess you’ll read it in the paper tomorrow, Asami-san. And I bet they’ll have a photo of Ren’s love-struck face. That blond eye-candy who came with that woman wouldn’t take his camera away from Ren!”
Asami holds his breath. A blond photographer from the Tokyo Daily? The knot in his heart tightens with uncontrollable rage. He grabs the young model by the arm and darts out of the room. “Oh, what a passionate man! Lucky you, Ren!” Fuck off, stupid old man! Spotting the restroom with predatory speed, Asami barges in, throwing the model’s slender body hard against the wall. The man collapses on the floor, now trembling at the sight of the large, muscular body looming over him, seething with wrath. “You broke our agreement, Ren.” The yakuza hisses like a snake ready to bite “You were hired to stand by me in public. No more, no less. And I explicitly stressed that you should keep your mouth shut. Didn’t I?” The sapphire lakes are now shedding hot tears behind long black curtains. “Didn’t I?” The model jerks at the man’s demanding yell, then nods with a sob. The yakuza takes a couple of deep breaths, then grabs the man’s chin, forcing his teary gaze to meet his own. “Was it Takaba?” When the younger man closes his eyes in a desperate attempt to avoid the question, Asami clenches the chin harder, threatening to break the fragile bones. “Answer the question!” “YES.” the model cries out in pain, letting out his loud sobs. “Yes, it was.” Shit. No wonder he’s depressed! “Damn you, Fujimoto! Damn you! Why?” The large man releases the delicate chin with a violent thrust and turns away from the weeping model, one hand cupping his face, the other reaching for his phone. “Because I’m in love with you...I love you. More than he will ever love you...” The faint words irritate the yakuza to the point of blind murder. Clinging to the few remaining rags of self-control Asami heads to the door. “Fujimoto Ren, you are fired.” Tense fingers and scorching eyes fixed on the knob. “And if you talk about me or Takaba ever again to anyone, you’re dead.”
“Asami-sama?” “Where is he?” As Asami walks out of Shangan Hotel and into his limo, Akira’s tranquil voice brings to his racing heart a wave of relief. “Still in his dark apartment, Sir. No changes.” It doesn’t take long for the bodyguard’s impeccable instinct to pick up the signs. “Is everything alright, Sir?” “Yes, Akira.” Asami lets out an imperceptible sigh. “I’ll be over there in a few minutes.” Tossing the phone on the leather seat, the yakuza closes his eyes and crosses his arms against his chest, silently wishing he could feel Akihito’s comforting warmth against his body right now. Please believe in me, Akihito. Don’t reject me. As the limo turns on the familiar street, the man tries desperately to pull himself together. Oh gods. What a mess.