The Beautiful Downfall - An Aiba Masaki Fanfic (Prologue/?)
Pairing: Aiba Masaki x Kusunoki Shion (OC)
Rating: R for whole series, R for Prologue
Genre: Romance, Mystery Drama
Word count: 1,309
Plot: Aiba Masaki (29) is the CEO of Yamakaze Hotels, Japan's top hotel chain. What began as a search for a secretary turns into a life-changing matter when he meets candidate Kusunoki Shion (26). As Shion challenges Aiba to question the only world he's ever known, she keeps to herself a dark secret that must remain undisclosed.
Author's Notes:
Thanks for stopping by to read my fanfic! :D I have two ongoing series: this one, and Eyes Like Honey (Sakurai Sho fanfic). I began The Beautiful Downfall with a clear concept: I wanted to write a dark, DoS Masaki. ;) From there, I jotted down a rough storyline which became The Beautiful Downfall. Each chapter is relatively and deliberately short (under 2,000 words), so they are quicker reads than my other fanfics. Although I'm not sure how many chapters will be in this series, I hope you'll stick around to the end! ❤
Prologue
"Your father is a brilliant man."
"You must be so proud of his accomplishments."
"You're so lucky to have a father like him."
Whenever someone spoke of me, it was in relation to my father. As a child, I learned very early on that he wielded power, respect, and wealth. Experts would write about him and praise him senseless, calling him, "The Genius Behind Japan's Hotel Industry". I'd read countless articles and seen just about every interview. But from the most important source, I heard nothing.
My mother passed away after giving birth to me, so I have no memory of her. All I know is that my father adored her, and after her passing, he was never the same. Perhaps he blamed me for taking her life. I never knew for sure, because he refused to talk about her with me. Anything I knew about his love life, I learned from gossip magazines and I didn't care to know how much of it was actually true.
I joined the youth baseball team once I entered elementary school. While every kid on my team waved at their parents in the stands during games, I'd wave at my butler, Mochida, who still serves me to this day. It was here I met Nino, my first and only friend if you don't count Mochida. I was a lonely kid, but baseball helped me forget that I was hurting inside. It was my escape.
In middle school, I joined my school's basketball team. I was pretty damn good at it, Mochida can attest. But my father? He didn't show up to any of those games, either.
One evening, he was home for a change. Mochida was considerate enough to prepare a dinner for two. But my father didn't stay. He simply said, "Are you still wasting your time playing sports? Why don't you utilize that time more productively and get a business degree?" Mochida later did some damage control and revealed that my father intended to give his company to me someday. I went to my room without eating anything that night and took my anger out on inanimate objects. I promised myself I would no longer shed another tear for this man. I was the stupid one to think that he had come home that night to celebrate my birthday.
A brilliant man? Perhaps to the rest of the world. Proud of him? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Lucky to have a father like him? What father? He was never a father to me.
When he passed away, I felt neither joy nor grief; I felt indifference. At his funeral, I was asked to give a speech to talk about what a great man he was. I had nothing to say, so I politely declined. It was a grand funeral with hundreds of people weeping, many coming up to me with bloodshot eyes and asking me if I was going to be okay. He had touched the lives of so many people, clearly, and yet, I couldn't recall a single, fond memory. On his deathbed, he turned to me and said, "Make me proud." In his hand was the will, and he passed it to me like a baton. Make me proud. Because I was never good enough for you. Because I had never made you proud in your lifetime. Because the only way you'd respect me as a human being was if I lived my life out exactly as you planned. His last words harbored no love, no compassion. To the end, he only cared about his business and professional image.
I refused. Why would I want to be his heir? Why, even after his death, must I be condemned to a life he paved out for me? When I consulted Mochida, he replied, “You may not think highly of your father, but he thought highly enough of you to hand over his multi-million dollar business. You should know more than anyone that his work was his life. That means he’s entrusting his life in your hands.”
Aiba Masaki, CEO
My life was never mine. As I grazed my fingers along the nameplate placed neatly on my desk, I felt disdain not only for my father, but also for myself for being a useless marionette. There was only one plan of escape from this curse, and that was to believe that I had ended up in this position out of my own free will. The last thing I wanted was for people to compare me to my father. I’m not here because you begged me. I’m no heir. The hotels are now simply under new management, better management.
And I was right. After becoming CEO at the age of 28, I had grown his business by twofold in a single year. Wealth, power, status, good looks… I had everything I wanted. Women? Plenty. Too many, actually. At first, I tried to be nice and choose my words when I had to let them down. But soon, I found out that treating them like dirt was easier for both parties: it gave them the closure they needed, and I didn’t have to pretend like I actually cared. When you have the world in your hands, worthless people flock to you. They want a glimpse of what you have, a taste of your luxurious lifestyle. Of course, they do. It’s much easier to marry money than it is to make money with your own talents. The problem is, no one wants to know you on a deeper level. No one actually cares about you. I realized early on in my CEO career that life hadn’t changed at all; I was still a lonely fuck with more enemies than friends.
Of course, there are exceptions. I trust Mochida, I always have. He’s also the only one who has believed in me from the start. Matsumoto, my chauffeur, is Mochida’s nephew. He’s been serving me since I took the title, and I’ve had no problems with him so far. Nino, my childhood friend, is the only individual outside of my business who I can trust. His family took care of me when I was young, inviting me over for dinner after baseball games and taking me on trips with them. It was through him I had even a glimpse of how wonderful family could be. He owns a hayashi rice restaurant down the street from my office, and we still get together to play catch periodically.
“Young Master.”
“Hm?”
“Now that you are a CEO, may I suggest you hire a secretary to help with your growing business?”
“I have you for that, Mochida.”
“You’re too kind. But, I am afraid there are limitations to my role, sir, and this is one of them.”
“Hm… what if I hire you as my secretary?”
“A butler cannot work two jobs, Young Master.”
And so, thus marked the beginning of a dreaded journey to find me a secretary. I began with strict guidelines, but I soon figured out that what looks good on paper did not necessarily transfer to the physical person. Pricey certifications didn’t guarantee anything, photoshopped profile pictures gave way to disappointing second impressions, and most problematic of all were their motives. As I mentioned before, wealth and power attract scum. In the year I had been in office, I had circulated through five secretaries who all ended up falling so deeply in love with the idea of me that I had to fire them. I didn’t hire a damn concubine; I need a secretary. Plus, I’m not that desperate for attention that I’ll take whatever I can get, thank you very much. Goodbye.
That is, until she walked into my office.
That is, until she disrupted my life forever.
This is where the story really begins: with the end of me.