Work Text:
Akihito is putting on his sneakers in the genkan when he’s startled by the door opening. Asami walks in and hands his briefcase to Akihito.
“Sion is closed. Shinji says I can’t get around it.”
A giggle escapes Akihito at the look of utter bewilderment on Asami’s face.
“There’s a pandemic. It’s not funny,” Asami chides.
“Exactly. There’s a pandemic. So stay home. Stay safe.” Akihito kisses Asami. “I’m off.”
Akihito squeezes past Asami, but Asami places his hand on the door, blocking Akihito’s path.
“Where are you going?” Asami asks.
“To work?” Akihito says, patting his camera bag.
“There’s a pandemic. So stay home. Stay safe,” Asami echoes.
Akihito rolls his eyes. “I’m going on a stakeout. I won’t be within a hundred meters of anyone else.”
“Unless you’re detected. In which case, you’ll be in close proximity to people who are okay with breaking the rules.”
“I’m in close proximity to someone who wants to break the rules right now!”
Asami glowers, but he has no retort. Instead, he switches tactics. “Stay home with me,” he whispers in Akihito’s ear, using the deep tone Asami knows turns Akihito on.
Akihito shivers. “You’re going to be home for a while. I’ll be back soon.” Akihito glares up at Asami.
“Doesn’t the paper have enough stories about the pandemic without needing to fill it up with criminal investigations? Especially since the yakuza are hunkering down and meeting -” Asami cuts himself off abruptly.
Akihito rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we figured they’re having online meetings. I’m working with Yagami, the technology specialist, to hack into their Zoom meetings undetected. Anyway, I’m trying to track down some hangure black market dealers who are intercepting masks that are supposed to go to hospitals.”
Asami’s face remains impassive, his hand firmly pressed against the door.
Akihito raises his eyebrows. “You’re not stopping me because Sion is involved in that, right?”
“Of course not.” Asami reflexively pulls his hand away from the door at the accusation.
Akihito takes advantage to pull the door open. “This is an important story. If I can figure out where the equipment is going, I could literally save lives.”
Asami sighs. “Just don’t risk your own. Remember, you belong to me.”
Three nights later, Akihito trudges back into the penthouse at dawn.
“No luck again?” Asami asks sanguinely from where he’s been propped up in bed, reading a report on his tablet.
Akihito sighs as he peels off his clothes. “I’ve never seen so many middlemen. This thing has more layers than an Eskimo in a blizzard.”
“Actually, Eskimos wear fur, so they don’t need a lot of layers.” Asami sets his tablet on his nightstand.
Akihito rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Then it’s like… like… a… a… a Matryoshka doll!” Akihito grins triumphantly.
He really hates onions. All that to avoid using the most common metaphor for something with lots of layers. Asami grins to himself.
“What?” Akihito glowers.
“Nothing. Come here already,” Asami says, lifting the blanket invitingly.
Two hours later, Asami sets Akihito back onto his side of the bed with a loud sigh. He fell asleep again. This is unacceptable.
Asami traces the dark circle under Akihito’s left eye for a moment before stepping out of the room, pressing his phone to his ear before he’s even gotten the door properly shut. “Kirishima? Any news on Project Nightingale?…. No, I want it finished tonight…. I don’t care how much we could make! I made that clear at the beginning…. Thanks.”
Asami settles on the couch with a cigarette and a glass of whiskey. I’ll give him two hours to sleep, and then he’d better be ready for round two.
That night, Akihito finds himself lying on a long rooftop overlooking Tokyo harbor. He watches the tugboats nudge the container ship into its berth through his telephoto lens. As the cranes unload the containers from the ship, Akihito scans the container numbers. The sixteenth container is one of the ones designated for the ministry of health. Akihito watches the container in the buffer area on the quay until a shuttle carrier takes it over to a stacking crane. When the crane adds the container to a stack in the middle of the yard, Akihito sighs.
It’s going to be another long stakeout.
He focuses his attention back on the containers leaving the ship, but keeping an eye on the periphery for any trucks coming in to be loaded. He spots two other health ministry containers and notes that they’re placed right on top of the first one.
That’s weird.
Usually the containers are placed in a seemingly haphazard order, and the complicated computer system is able to retrieve them efficiently as the trucks arrive to pick them up.
When a caravan of ten trucks arrives and the stacking crane stops stacking new containers to load some onto the trucks, Akihito steadies his camera. They never stop while unloading. It takes up to three days to unload a ship, and those containers don’t move while they’re unloading. Sure, they’ll load up containers from a ship that’s already been unloaded, but not from a ship that’s in the process of being unloaded.
As Akihito suspected, the containers designated for the health ministry are loaded onto the trucks. Akihito’s fingers move automatically as he captures the scene: stacking crane operator, truck drivers, license plates, containers. Akihito watches the trucks head in his direction. He selected his lookout spot carefully, ensuring both that he would have a clear view of the dock and easy access to the only road in and out of the dock. He pays careful attention to the route taken by the first few trucks, breathing a sigh of relief that they seem to be sticking together. When the last truck has passed his hiding spot, Akihito counts to ten, then works his way down from the roof to his waiting bike.
He trails the trucks at a distance. He notices the trucks are starting to bunch up, and when the last one lurches to a stop, Akihito turns into the nearest alley. He checks his mental map and realizes he’s next to the tallest building in the area. He hurries over to the dumpster, which is positioned conveniently close to the fire escape.
When he looks through his telephoto lens, Akihito freezes.
What the hell is Asami doing here?
Akihito watches as Asami’s men replace the drivers in the trucks.
That bastard. He said he wouldn’t steal from the hospitals.
Akihito continues to observe, too shocked to remember to take pictures. With a start, he adjusts the camera settings and focuses on the scene, but it’s too late to capture the change in drivers.
It’s not like I could publish that, anyway.
The first truck starts to roll again. It’s barely moved three meters when a black car with tinted windows screeches to a stop in front of it. A man gets out and rushes over to Asami, shouting at him.
Akihito can only hear a few words: “What the… mine… Watch out… compensation.”
Asami’s face is calm but determined as he answers quietly. Akihito tries to read Asami’s lips but can’t guess what he’s saying.
When Asami finishes, the man replies only slightly more calmly. When he’s done, Asami raises his eyebrows.
After a minute, the man’s face reddens and he strides back to his car, which quickly drives off. Akihito refocuses back on Asami, whose face is now turned in Akihito’s direction.
Akihito swallows. He knows Asami can’t actually see him, but it’s still disconcerting.
Asami suddenly grins and winks before climbing into his own car. Kirishima closes the door behind Asami.
Akihito tries to ignore the tightening in his groin as Asami’s car drives off and the caravan of trucks starts to follow. Akihito scurries back down to his bike and falls in behind the last truck, not worrying about maintaining a safe distance anymore.
To Akihito’s surprise, the caravan heads directly to the headquarters of the Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare in Chiyoda. Akihito hops off his bike and rushes forward, intent on capturing the scene (or as much as he can without compromising Asami’s men). When the security guard comes out of the building, Akihito listens in as Kirishima talks to the guard.
“This is the entire shipment,” Kirishima says, bowing.
“I thought it wouldn’t be delivered until Thursday.” The guard checks his clipboard and scratches his head.
“We know that the hospitals need the items urgently, so we loaded the trucks as soon as the containers were removed from the ship.” Kirishima holds out a clipboard of his own. “Now, if you could please sign here…”
After he’s done with the guard, Kirishima glares at Akihito before heading back to the car. The guard stares at Akihito. “This is a secure area.”
“Takaba Akihito with Weekly Headlines . I’m covering the difficulties in getting supplies to the hospitals. Is it alright if I take pictures of the trucks being unloaded? It will help the public feel more at ease knowing the shipment has finally arrived.”
The guard waves his hand, already focused on directing the unloading of the shipment, and Akihito’s camera starts flashing.
Three hours later, Akihito stumbles into the penthouse. Asami is already in bed, but he sits up when Akihito opens the bedroom door.
Asami grins. “Well?”
“Well what?” Akihito grumbles, pulling off his clothes and leaving them in a heap on the floor, too tired to walk the few steps to the hamper.
“You got your scoop.” Asami grasps Akihito’s wrist and tugs him onto the bed..
Akihito rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot.” He slides under the covers and closes his eyes, missing the look of shock on Asami’s face.
“Akihito,” Asami rumbles.
Akihito can feel his body stirring in response, but he resolutely keeps his eyes closed.
“Akihito!” Asami says more urgently, tugging on Akihito’s most sensitive part.
Akihito’s eyes fly open. “Not tonight. I’ve got to be back in the newsroom in five hours.”
“Why? You got your scoop,” Asami protests.
Akihito sighs. “You really are an idiot. Did you know that Eskimos really do wear a lot of layers, even with all that fur? You shouldn’t make shit up if you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Asami looks at Akihito for a long moment before shaking his head. “When are you going to get your break for your big scoop?” After a big story, Akihito is usually given a couple of days off to recover from the long hours and danger he undertakes to get the scoop.
“You turned my multi-page exposé of the criminal ring diverting hospital equipment into a quarter-page fluff piece on a supply delivery. The editor is not happy.”
Asami’s mouth falls open.
Akihito chuckles, tracing Asami’s lips with a finger. “It’s rare for you to miscalculate so badly. Are you getting rusty staying home by yourself?”
Asami growls.
As Asami pounces, it belatedly occurs to Akihito that he’s just miscalculated far worse than Asami had. The editor will likely be waiting for quite some time.