Business and Pleasure.doc

Title: Viewfinder: Business and Pleasure
Pairing: slight Asami x Takaba
Rating: R (violence)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Violence

Notes: My husband was watching The Godfather Part 2 for the 83rd time today (what is it with guys and those movies? I love them, but give it a rest.). It struck me that Asami could sit in for Michael Corleone in most scenes. I wanted to write a small scene with Asami as a drug lord, because we don't often see that side of him.







The room was a traditional Japanese room, softly lit. Voices were muted. They had a nervous quality, like those of patients waiting for bad news. Glasses clinked on the surface of the large table in the center of the room. Servants passed through, removing old drinks and supplying new ones, all without a sound.

Voices were heard on the walk outside the screens, and a large shadow moved along the wall. A hush fell across the room. Today there would be hell to pay, and the devil himself was approaching.

The servants in the room fled. All the men took their places by the table, wet palms slipping on glasses already covered with condensation. The silhouette of a bodyguard bowed, then slid the door open.

Then he stepped into the room. Taller than any man present. Eyes like blackened steel. Confidence and arrogance rolling off him in waves.

Asami Ryuichi.

The men in the room bowed with their heads to the mat. All but one. Asami's eyes flicked to him. It was Takayama's nephew. A young troublemaker. An idiot whose temper let others use him to their own ends.

On another day, in another place, Asami might have been amused by the show of defiance in the face of defeat. Today, he was not. But before he could act, Takayama himself rose up and slammed his nephew's forehead into the mats.

"I apologize for my nephew's bad manners, Asami-san. We were too indulgent with him growing up, and as you see, he remains a spoiled child."

Asami slowly walked around the table, pausing here and there to stare at a man kneeling below him. Letting the fear build. He finally stopped behind Takayama and the young man. He stood there until he could see sweat beading on the backs of their necks.

"Children," he said, "do not attempt to set up drug rings inside my territory. Children do not rape, torture, and kill my people. Children do not plot with the Chinese to take over my operations. Nor do the Chinese plot with underlings, Takayama."

Takayama's head shot off the floor at that last, his head pivoting to see over his shoulder, his eyes wide.

"Oh yes. You may have used him as your spokesman, but I'm well aware of who was giving the orders. Did he know you intended to use him as a scapegoat?"

Evidently not. "You old bastard! I knew I should have killed you and taken over. You with all your promises."

"Shut up!" Takayama hissed. The young man subsided.

Asami turned his back on the table, and walked over to the wall. There were empty spots there, lighter, where objects had been recently hanging. They were shaped like swords. They knew he would be tempted. He loved this show of their fear.

"You took your katana collection down. How disappointing. I'd looked forward to seeing them again. Perhaps trying one out. I don't suppose you have them nearby...?"

The kneeling men pressed their heads harder into the floor, trying desperately to be the lowest things in room, so that they might not draw attention to themselves.

Takayama's strained voice came from where his face was again buried in the mats. "I'm sorry, Asami-sama. There are none here. They are being cleaned."

Asami reached into his suit coat. Breathing in the room stopped. He smirked as he pulled out his cigarettes. The held breaths were released in a collective sigh as he lit one, considering the kneeling head of the family. He blew a stream of smoke from his lips. It rose to the ceiling and hung over his head like a dark omen.

"That's a pity. I've heard they were quite sharp. Your death would have been painless. As it is now..." He shrugged and dropped his cigarette on the floor, stepping on it before it burned the mat too much.

Asami picked Takayama up by the back of his suit and tossed him across the room. The man fell, whimpering. He took off his jacket, and handed it to one of his men. He looked at the remaining men. "Keep them here. Let them watch and learn. We will take standard payment from them later."

His blond bodyguard nodded in understanding, then pulled out a long knife and a whetstone, and and slowly began rasping the knife back and forth along it. It was the only sound in the room, other than the harsh breathing of some of the men.

"And the nephew, Asami-sama?"

The young man had finally realized his position, and was grovelling on the floor. "Please. I didn't know. I just did what I was told. He was using me. I'll serve you instead. I'll do whatever you ask."

Asami walked over to him and, with the toe of his slippered foot, lifted the chin and looked at the tear-covered face. "I understand that my women at the Blue Note said much the same thing before you raped and killed them. I have no use for someone like you. But as you're a fool, and a tool as well, I see no need to prolong your punishment."

He stepped back and drew his gun from his shoulder holster. It would have been one clean shot to the head, but the coward tried to run. The first missed, taking off an ear. It took two more, one to stop him, and one to finish him. Blood soaked into the walls and mats.

Asami looked down at the stains on the legs of his trousers. He sighed. He'd have to change his suit.

He walked back to his men and handed them the gun for disposal. Then he methodically unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up. A cowardly man betraying and sacrificing a younger family member, albeit a foolish one, for his own advancement. He didn't normally take care of things personally anymore, but he was going to enjoy this. He turned back to Takayama, who was crouched on the floor at one end of the room. He smiled.

"Now, where were we?"


--


The club was a dark and intimate one. As reported, Akihito was still seated at the bar, alone, waiting. He watched him for a moment. The emotions flitting across Akihito's face could be read like an open book. He was so unlike anyone Asami had ever known. Except perhaps one. He approached the bar.

Akihito turned at Asami's approach, glaring up at him. "You're late! Who do you think you are, making me wait?"

The corner of Asami's mouth twitched. "I had to change my clothes."

Akihito slammed his spoon down on the bar. "Well, I've already finished. I'm leaving."

"That might be more effective if you hadn't been eating ice cream again. As it is, you look like a child." Asami loomed over him, then bent his head close. Akihito blushed and averted his eyes. Then he realized what he was doing and began glaring again.

Asami's index finger dragged across his bottom lip, milky white cream coming off on it. "You missed some." He held the finger against Akihito's lips until he reluctantly opened them and took it in, sucking it clean.

Asami slowly pulled the wet finger from Akihito's mouth, enjoying the arousal fighting disgust in the young man's eyes. The fight that never ended. The reason he came back, time and again.

"I always win, Akihito. Remember that."

Akihito defiantly stared at him. "Some day I'll beat you. You remember that."

"I look forward to you trying."

Akihito stared at him a moment, then turned back to the bar, dipping his finger in the bowl of melted ice cream and licking it clean as Asami watched, bemused.

"What?" Akihito snarled.

"Nothing." He would always protect this boy.

Akihito's eyes narrowed. "You look entirely too pleased with yourself. What happened today?"

"Today? Nothing much." Asami smiled and finally relaxed. "Just business as usual."