Takaba has a keepsake, something to keep hope alive during this difficult time. Takes place immediately after Naked Truth chapter 7 and contains spoilers.
Summary: Takaba has a keepsake, something to keep hope alive through this difficult time. Since I have no idea what will happen in the next chapter, this story involves a large amount of speculation on my part. This is also the first time I'm writing for Viewfinder, so any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated.
Takaba Akihito shook his head; too tired to muster the energy to speak when the henchman assigned to him asked if he wanted a shower. He thought his guard would have caught on by now. Every night the same question was met with the same answer. He could barely think straight let alone shower, and there was no way in hell that he was going to let Fei Long's guards wash him. He still had some pride left. Still, the guard and that annoying brat, Tao were the only human contact he had outside of Fei Long's bedroom. The long hours of solitude in between were almost enough to drive him to insanity.
The guard paced him as Takaba slowly forced his weary body to walk down the hall. He let himself be assisted once, but never again. The other henchmen thought of him as a joke. He could hear them laughing through the door of his tiny room. He may not have been unable to understand the words, but the meaning behind them came across loud and clear. He was Fei Long's pet. Just a pretty little toy that caught the master's eye and sooner or later would be tossed aside. He was merely a kept woman, a whore in their eyes and he refused to act the part in their presence. But deep down in his heart, there was the one truth that Takaba couldn't deny. In Fei Long's mind, Takaba was the key to Asami's undoing. The perfect way to bring down the man he so despised and Fei Long intended to do whatever was necessary to see that happen.
Takaba sat down carefully on the bed and watched blearily as the chain was clamped around his ankle. Fei Long had been rougher than usual tonight. He was almost fully recovered from the bullet wound and full of pent-up energy. While his captor was no Asami, the Chinese man was no slouch himself in the endowments department and Takaba was sore in places he didn't want to be. As soon as the guard had him sufficiently tethered, Takaba curled up on his side with his back to the door.
It wasn't until he heard the soft click of the door lock that he moved. Letting his hand slide over the heavily starched sheets and reached under the pillow. He pulled out the item that he found in the trash days before. His shirt. The one he'd been wearing when Fei Long and his men captured him. His thumb lovingly traced over one of the small, crusted-over, ruddy-brown spots. His eyes burned with unshed tears.
Fei Long was wrong. It might not be love, but Asami...cared about him in some way. He wouldn't have muscled his way into Takaba's life if he didn't. But that didn't mean a man as powerful as Asami would allow himself to be manipulated by another person, no matter what was at risk.
It was all so confusing.
Takaba curled himself tighter and buried his face into the shirt. He inhaled the heady scent of sweat and blood...Asami's blood. What would Asami think of him once he finds out what has been going on during his capture? Would he be enraged to know about the things he was forced to do with Fei Long? Would he think of Takaba as weak for letting himself get into this situation?
/Don't tell me you are expecting something as foolish as love from sex between men?/
It was days ago, but Fei Long's mocking voice still echoed in his ears, taunting him, planting the seed of doubt. He adamantly refused to give in to it, but there were moments when it was so very hard not to.
/Has he said he loves you?/
God, he hated his captor's mind games. It wasn't like that. He didn't know how many different ways he could explain to the Chinese man that whatever he had with Asami wasn't what Fei Long thought it was. He might not call it love, but there was at least affection and Takaba was sure that in his own Asami-like way, it was reciprocated.
Takaba's chest tightened. He just wanted to go home. Back to Japan and the little studio apartment he rented. He wanted to see Kou and Takato and drink beer and sing silly songs at karaoke together. He clutched the filthy pinstriped shirt to his chest.
Asami would not lie here and let something like this happen to him. If there was a way out of this place, the Yakuza boss would have found it by now. If Asami could do it, then damn it, Takaba could too. He would show Asami once and for all that he was not some kid who constantly needed his help. He could do this.
Asami would be coming to Hong Kong for him, he was sure, but Takaba didn't know when and he couldn't wait any longer. He nuzzled his face into the shirt as a smile slowly began to curve the corners of his mouth. A plan was beginning to take shape in his mind.