Chapter Rating: T-M

Pairing: Akihito x Asami

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: I own none of the familiar characters, Asami, Akihito, and every already existing character belongs to Yamame Ayano.

Author's Note: All comments are appreciated, as this is my first (posted) fanfic I would really like some feedback. To emphasize, this is the first time I've ever let people read anything I've written. (well except school essays).This takes place directly after chapter forty. So I may or may not finish it once chapter forty-one comes out. It just depends on my mood.

Chapter 1:

Akihito walked slowly down a well lit street, crowded with the usual Tokyo night life. Handsome hosts advertising their clubs, streetwalkers on corners, vulgarly calling out to both male and female passerbys, drunken salarymen clinging for support from another drunkard ( a few pairs falling down onto the street), thousands passed Akihito by. Yet he saw none of it, he was so deeply lost in his own thoughts.

His conversation with… with whatever that guy's name was, the manager of one of Asami's clubs. The guy that Asami was probably cheat-.

No that wasn't right how could he have cheated on him when Asami saw him as nothing more than an intriguing play thing that was disposable, once the charm – or whatever Asami had found note worthy about him – had worn off. The only thing Asami like about Akihito was the fact that he dared to defy him. Possibly one of the most powerful men in the underworld of the planet. Even he thought he was crazy for doing it sometimes.

Thinking of merely his name brought up thoughts of last night….Asami's hot breathe on the nape of his neck…damp silk sheets beneath him coated with sweat and other body fluids…a heated golden gaze scrutinizing every bare inch of his naked body. He trembled slightly from the lust the memory momentarily roused, and then banished the thoughts from his mind.

He continued to stare at the ground as his legs moved in the passive motion of walking, an unconscious act on his part. He couldn't go to any of his friend's houses, nor his parent's house, Asami knew where they lived all too well. A list of all the people he knew formed in his head, and one by one names were crossed out until only one remained. Someone he hadn't contacted in over four years.


She was going to be pissed as all hell when he explained the situation to him, but she wouldn't refuse him help. …at least that was what he was banking on.

The involuntary movement of his legs turned into a desperate race against the clock. . The train timetable he had committed to memory years ago at the beginning of his career as an investigative photographer, finally, was going to be put to use. According to it he had ten minutes to get to the nearest train station.

He was getting out of Tokyo. Tonight. Before that incompetent Asami had hired to trail him tracked him down.

He sat down in his seat, an exhausted huff escaping him. Somehow he had managed to jump into the train just as the doors were closing, capturing a piece of cloth from Akihito's button- down shirt as it closed in finality. He hadn't even notice it tearing.

He was free…for now at least. Leaving with nothing but the clothes on his back and a wallet full of all the money he had earned in his life. Credit and debit cards could be traced, not exactly what someone who was trying to disappear wanted. Insufficient of a precaution as it was, it would show that he was really putting forth the effort to get away, if Asami bothered to search for him. He grunted in disbelief at his own thought. How funny.

The intercom system crackled with static as the operator announced "We are now departing for Kyoto, and will arrive as scheduled, at 6:30 in the morning. We hope you enjoy your ride with us."

Akihito sank deeper into the worn cushions of the seat, trying, admittedly without much success, to relax. To forget about all his worries and insecurities, just for the moment, to catch some sleep.

He couldn't catch well.

At 4:00 a.m, an ungodly hour of the morning by anyone's standards, he dozed into a fitful slumber. And dreamed of his time spent in Hong Kong. The terror expressed in Akihito's face and moans, made the young man seated next to him stare. Along with the pondering of 'What kind of psychopath am I sitting next to?' funnily enough the man was reading a book titled "The Train Murders", how appropriate. If Asami had been there anyway.

Precisely at 6:30 Akihito departed at the Kyoto station. Swiftly he walked to the multicolored pay phones, which littered the wall across from the map of train routes on this line, and ticket sales machines.

He punched in the numbers he had known, since, well almost immediately after he had learned to count. As the phone called a bland piece of classical music, something he had no patience to listen to, blared in his ear. Hurry up and pick up you old bat.

Finally she picked up, he sighed as he heard a click. And then…


Her screaming voice echoed throughout the almost empty station, still, the scattered few that were present were glaring daggers at him, for the loud disruption in the peace of the morning. Even as he held the device at as far away as his arm could stretch, the voice continued to rant on.


This continued until she finally ran out of breath (about twenty minutes – give or take), by then the station was completely deserted, Akihito the exception.

"Done yet? Great to hear from you too, Rukia-san. Glad to know you still have plenty of energy left in those old bones." Akihito teased her. She so wasn't a morning person and he knew it.

"You stupid brat. I'm going to have to have a word with Megumi about the lack of manners your mother raised you with." The elderly woman growled.

"And Grandmother will just laugh and say I probably caught you in a bad mood." He laughed at the thought of that conversation.

"Oh shut up brat. What are you calling for? What kind of trouble are you in now?" cutting right to the matter at hand. Akihito sighed, wanting to prolong this discussion a little longer.

"I'm calling to let you know that I'm in Kyoto right now. Just to let you know. By the way, can I stay at your place while I'm here? Yes or no I'll be there in about…hmm" he made and unseen hand motion to her, "about twenty minutes."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, so long that Akihito began to wonder if she had fallen asleep. Then…." Humph, fine, come over or whatever you want. You've got some talking to do when you get here, though, so get your story straight on the way over." A click sounded over the line before it went dead in his ear.

Exiting the station, as he made his way to Rukia-san's place, he chuckled to himself. At age eighty-one Rukia-san was still the firecracker of a woman she had been all the years he had known her, and ages before he was born. Well, according to his grandmother she was.

Rukia-san's husband had died after just five years of marriage, leaving her with no children and broken hearted. She refused to remarry even as friends and family encouraged her, especially after she opened a photography studio, which eventually morphed into a modeling agency with Rukia-san as the head photographer. And as his grandmother and her were close friends from childhood, Akihito was often drug to visit her. As he grew older he began to come willingly during his summer vacation to watch and assist her as she worked at her company "A Moment Still in Time". Which lead him to have the passion he now possessed for photography. All thanks to Rukia-san.

By now he was in sight of his destination. A fairly large (by congested city standards) two story house cut up like a black and glass puzzle, in some new modern style. The faint rustling of people's feet attracted his attention.

Weird nobody I know gets up at this time of the morning. And on a Sunday to boot. Well, not like I can't really say anything right now. Yet his head turned instinctively toward the source of the noise. He felt the presence of the person before he saw them and that still didn't give him enough time to dodge the steel pipe aimed at his head.

Damn that hurt, his eyes were swimming in darkness, as he felt his knees hit the asphalt losing his consciousness in the metal freefall.

He woke up in a fairly spacious room that's walls were painted completely white, but was strangely decked out in nothing but black furniture, black and white nature shots, and the ceiling was red. How peculiar. Yet he had a sensation that he was familiar with the room, at the moment his mind was so muddled he wasn't sure of anything.

A rather pretty elderly woman looked down at him scowling. She looked Japanese, but had beautiful sky blue eyes which were set off by a waterfall of waist length silver hair. She parted her lips to speak...

"You have got to have the worst luck of anyone I've ever met, you know that right?" the words were spoken aggressively, though he spotted a hint of relief in her eyes.

He slowly sat up, as he head felt like someone was whacking it with a sledge hammer. He looked at her his eyes glazed over, as if intoxicated on some drug, and asked earnestly. "Who are you? Do you know my name?"

"Oh. Shit."

A/N: Sorry if I rambled I tend to do that (a lot). I don't know if when I'll update this again, or even if I will. Just letting anyone who is interested know.