Chapter Text
“Kirishima.”
The caller ID showing up on his phone was unknown, but the first secretary recognized his boss’s voice right away.
“Asami-sama!”
“The squad was not able to defuse the bomb,” the man’s voice was strained, and he could hear the incessant sound of gunshot and screams in the background. “Aaron ambushed them as well. Suoh and I are running out of ammo.”
“Sir, which floor are you in?”
“Third.”
“If you use the emergency stairs on the-“
“They are blocked,” on the other side of the line, his boss’ breathing was heavy. “The stairs are blocked.”
Kirishima pushed his glasses further up his nose, trying to force down the bile going up his throat.
“Kirishima…” he heard the other man whisper. “How is Akihito?”
“He will survive, sir, the bullet was lodged in his ribs but-“
A loud thump and the noise of something, or someone, crashing against glass interrupted him.
“Good,” the familiar voice finally made itself heard again, and the secretary sighed in relief.
“Asami-sama, please allow me to head to Sion,” he said.
“No. You are where I need you to be.”
“But sir-“
“You need to look after Akihito.”
“Sir, I-“
“That is an order, Kirishima!” the man’s voice was loud and clear, despite the string of shots, screams and hurried footsteps in the background. “It is too late for me now, anyway.”
The secretary was about to open his mouth when Asami Ryuichi spoke again.
“Give him the letter,” he said. “Kirishima, give him-“
And then he heard it.
It took his brain a millisecond to register it – when it did, his phone slipped to the ground.
He felt numb, almost too numb to pick up the phone buzzing insistently on the ground.
But he had to hear it. He had to know.
“Matsuya-san… “ he whispered, his voice lifeless as he spoke to one of the operatives in charge of today’s rescue operation. “Where are you now?”
“Outside Sion, sir. Or, what was left of it,” he could taste the man’s despair in each syllable, and it only made the void inside his chest grow even wider. “Sion has collapsed, sir! The entire building, blown to the ground!”
Kirishima Kei felt strangely empty, as if his soul had gone out for a walk, leaving his body behind, rooted in the middle of Asami’s Ryuichi’s living room.
“Kirishima,” he heard the hoarse voice of Takaba Akihito, as the young man dragged his pale self out of the bedroom. “Where is Asami?”
The secretary remained silent, as if pondering his options.
But, the truth was, he really didn’t know what to say. Or yet, he did know what to say – he just did not want to.
Silently, he walked to the safe concealed behind one of the pictures on the wall, unlocked it, and turned around holding an envelope – one that he had sworn to himself he would never have to deliver, not in this lifetime.
“Here,” Kirishima muttered, his bespectacled eyes meeting the terrified face of the young photographer. “He wrote you a letter.”
Akihito, on any other day, would have asked for an explanation.
But one look at the secretary’s face and he knew.
With trembling fingers, he opened the envelope.
Akihito,
First, let me give you some context to what you are about to read. I am having a particularly bad day, due to delicate business matters involving one of my managers.
In a few minutes, I will be going home to you, much earlier than I originally anticipated. But this letter will be not be given to you tonight. Hopefully not tonight – it looks like a rather dull day to die, anyway.
When I finish, I will instruct Kirishima to keep this letter and only give it to you when I finally join the choir invisible.
If you are reading this, then that day has finally come.
In case we are still together, my apologies for the poor timing of my demise.
If we are no longer together, forgive Kirishima for tracking you down and delivering it to you anyway. I made him promise to do so under the threat that if he didn’t, I would make particularly nasty arrangements to welcome him when he finally joined me in hell.
There are things that I should have told you while I was still alive, but never had the time – or the disposition – to. My apologies for that as well. I know you are the kind of person that would much rather hear a few words from one’s mouth than waste time reading this prolific excuse of a confession.
Bear with me.
Once, a very long time ago, you asked what I felt for you. You probably will not remember – you were far too drunk at the time. In case you don’t, here is a little background info to get you situated. I took you out for a drink, you ordered lavender and honey ice cream, and then to show what a grown-up you were, you ordered whisky, more than once. There you go, is that enough background for you? Do I even need to say what happened next? I think you remember that part, I am quite sure you were sober.
I never got to answer your question, did I, Akihito? I am quite sure I always succeeded in distracting you with sex. So, I can only assume that you came to the inaccurate conclusion that sex was the only reason I kept you by my side?
So, here we are. I think it is time for some clarification.
I take it you know Akira Kurosawa, the filmmaker? He was a great fan of photography, and he also believed that his viewfinder could capture things that the eye could not. You two would probably get along very well, if it weren’t for the fact he passed away when you were probably just a toddler… When I was young, I found his historical dramas so fascinating that I ended up choosing Imperial Japan as one of my majors when I went to college.
But I digress.
I mentioned him because you remind me of another film of his, Dreams. It’s a collection of little tales – the one that might help you understand what I feel for you is called ‘The Peach Orchard’. In it, this kid is celebrating Hina Matsuri. It’s spring, a time of the year when the peach blossoms are in full bloom. But, here is the catch. The kid’s family chopped down all the peach trees, so he is feeling, obviously, a bit desolate. Then he runs to where the orchard should be… and the scene is full of metaphors. It would be a waste of time to describe it because everything is so visual, so I will stick to the part that, to me, has the most meaning.
At a certain point, the spirits of the trees accuse the boy of having cut down the trees because he wanted to eat all the juicy, delicious peaches, to which the boy responds, ‘peaches can be bought, but where can you buy a whole orchard in bloom?’
Do you get it?
It has never been about the sex, Akihito. Much as I always enjoyed our adventures, the truth is that I could have gotten anyone I wanted to sleep with me, anytime I wanted, anywhere I wanted.
Peaches can be bought.
But you, Akihito, you were never a peach. And that was my downfall.
Because the moment I realized that you were an orchard in bloom, I also realized that you were a vision I was not entitled to have.
I knew what to do with peaches. They are relatively easy to figure out, and to consume.
But with an orchard in bloom?
Before I met you, my life was exactly like that boy’s yard. Empty. Full of chopped trees. The lines of my earth were brittle and infertile, but one only reaps what one sows. That was the price I had to pay for becoming who I am – or, was.
I always knew that no matter how much I searched that yard for something good to show you, I would never find something worth of appreciation. The more you found out about me, the closer you got to realizing that, and that is why I always made sure to keep everything about myself such a mystery to you.
I thought that if I left it all to your imagination, your portrayal of me would be much kinder than reality. And that is saying something, considering I gave you nothing but nightmare material to work with.
But then, I quickly realized that you were picking things up too fast, you were beginning to read me too well. Sooner or later, you would wake up from that beautiful slumber. You would wake up from the sexual trance I always tried so hard to put you in.
You were always so strong, Akihito. Since that day you jumped off that rooftop, since I first set my eyes on that fiery expression of yours, I knew that you were a mystery to be uncovered. A battle worth fighting. And I was right: you were everything I ever thought you were, and so much more. You were beautiful, brave, honest, kind, passionate, fair… You had ideals. You had values.
But your values and ideals would never be able to grow in an abyss of shadow.
See, Akihito, my greatest fear in life was not that you would die because of my occupation.
My greatest fear was that, one day, you would find yourself stranded in that dry yard, and realize that you deserve so much better than what you got from me. That one day, you would leave and never come back, because you had finally found someone that showed you a world without Fei Longs, without Yuris, without Asami Ryuichis. A world where you could thrive, where you could have a family, where you could just be what you are, with nothing to be ashamed of.
Perhaps, as you read this, you have already moved on. If that is the case, I shall say no more, except that I truly wish we had met under better circumstances; maybe we would have had a ghost of a chance.
As it is, I can only hope that you will find it in you to forgive me for all the damage I caused.
Thank you for breathing life into this corpse, my beautiful, perfect orchard in bloom.
Thank you, my beloved Takaba Akihito.
Yours, always
Asami Ryuichi
“Kirishima…” Akihito whispered, folding the letter carefully as tears cascaded down his jaw, his neck, his chest. “Where is Asami?”
“Sion.” The secretary answered, his voice barely audible. “The building collapsed.”
The photographer felt strangely detached, as if he was stuck in a dream, or in a parallel reality.
“Take me there,” he said, his voice sounding strange and distant to his own ears.
“I-Takaba-san, I can’t-“
“Take me…” Akihito whispered, but his tone made it clear he would not take no for an answer, “…to where Asami is.”