Author note: Finally it's done. It's just the first chapter. I hope you won't be too impatient because the next one will take time... I have to thank my two wonderful beta, portisheart and darkroarke. They did a really good job, and any remaining mistake would be mine.

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"Shit..."

With his back against a concrete wall, he was looking at the sky. Myriads of stars were still visible, little bright spots on the darkness of the firmament. But the horizon was slowly lightening, announcing the end of the night. Would he even be able to see a new day beginning?

He'd received a letter a week earlier.

It was an ordinary day. He'd woken up quite prematurely and cooked a little something for his breakfast. Then he'd begun to sort out the pictures he'd taken the past few days. Nothing thrilling: a couple of weddings, some boring local festivities, a charity gala... Just assignments. Nothing personal.

Since he'd been back from Hong Kong, Asami had forbidden him to carry on with his dangerous activities. He wasn't allowed to chase criminals anymore. It was pissing him off. A lot.

But he didn't want to disobey the man who made a long journey to rescue him, the man who got wounded because of him. He'd saved his life. That was the least the young man could do. And... Well he didn't want to admit it, but he was also afraid to endanger Asami again. He should always be the only one facing the consequences of his actions.

As he still had to pay the rent, he was accepting almost anything he was asked to do, from family pictures to cosplay contests... But he missed the rush of adrenalin, resulting from when he would be hid behind an alley to spy on a suspicious meeting and would risk to be caught.

So there he was, checking the negatives to choose the ones to develop, when he heard a noise coming from his entrance. He got up to see what was at the door. Apparently, someone had slid an envelope under his front door. A simple one, that was white, unstamped, and without any kind of information about the sender. However, he decided to take a look, even though he knew his curiosity could cause some trouble, as he often experienced.

A simple sheet of white paper was inside the envelope with a few words written on it: 'bribery', as well as a date and an address. The address was located on the docks...

'Why is it always on the docks with these fucking yakuza?' he thought.

That was where he was now. On the docks, behind large boxes of who knows what. His salvation might be on the other side of those wooden boxes and containers, but he didn't have the strength to try anything. He had been sitting in a pool of his own blood for quite some time and it kept spreading. Only God knew how long he would stay awake. The pain had faded away already. The lower half of his body was just strangely numb by now. He wasn't even sure if he was still conscious. He could only hope that the workers of this part of the port would find him when they would arrive at daybreak. Just another hour, more or less.

It had been too much of a temptation. This could be the chance of his life, the scoop he was looking for.

He had let go of the idea of setting a trap for Asami several months ago. First, because he knew the man now and he wasn't sure he was capable of doing that. And... He didn't want to anymore.

He had denied what was bothering him for a long time. But since Hong Kong, he couldn't do it any longer. He had fallen in love with the bastard, God help him.

For weeks he had kept his feelings secret because he doubted they would be accepted as enthusiastically as he dreamed of. He was simply enjoying each moment he could share with his torturer. He kept playing cat and mouse with Asami, looking displeased when the man caught him but secretly wishing for it.

His reactions to Asami's brutal touch had changed too. He didn't hide his pleasure anymore. Seeing the bodyguards' faces when he crossed them in the hallway, it seemed he could be heard from far away. Neither did he hesitate to kiss the older man who was cold and distant by day but passionate at night. Sometimes the young man initiated sex. He even did some research on the internet and surprised Asami with a couple of tricks he had learned. Not that the photographer thought they were new for the businessman... But his face told the young man how Asami enjoyed them coming from him. Not just his face, by the way...

One night, after a long tiring day, he went to see Asami at Club Sion. The man was in the middle of an important meeting with a powerful businessman and had made him wait at the bar. Immediately, he felt piercing eyes on him. Him and his colorful shirt opened on a khaki T-shirt, his old jeans and his sneakers... amongst ladies dressed in evening gowns and men in Armani suits. He was even more embarrassed after he heard one of those rich people laughing with contempt. The laugh was obviously addressed to him, no doubt about that. So he ordered a cocktail, just to have something to do while waiting.

But the negotiation took longer than expected and when Asami joined him he was finishing his fourth glass. The lights of the club were making his head throb, the music was too loud, and his tongue was beginning to feel a bit coated. He was about to order another cocktail to cure this when Asami grabbed his arm and sighed:

"You know you're not good with alcohol. Look at you now."

"It was boring without you," he answered, flinging his arms around the yakuza.

The gesture surprised Asami. However, he took the young man in his arms and signaled his secretary to prepare the car. When they arrived at the parking lot, the limousine was waiting. Asami installed the photographer at the back before getting in. As soon as he sat down, the young man jumped on him. He had a feeling of déjà vu. But it wasn't despair that could be seen in those hazel eyes, it was adoration. He was so sure about it, that he let a smirk appear on his lips. He kept observing him, letting the photographer do what he wanted.

The young man sat on his lap. He put his hands on his shoulders and bent his head to kiss him. The kiss was shy, the lips just brushing against each other. A few moments later, their tongues were playing together, touching and tasting each other leisurely. Asami pulled out and looked deeply into his young lover's eyes.

"Can you explain your behavior tonight?"

"It's nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're very forward, though you used to do anything to avoid me."

"That's because I love you, bastard."

When he realized what he'd said, he blushed. Then he went back to the other side of the back seat of the limousine and watched the yakuza's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

The man hadn't moved an inch and was smiling victoriously. However he saw no warmth in Asami's eyes. His eyes were watering and he yelled at the driver to stop. With a shake of his head, Asami allowed the driver to stop the car. When the car stopped, he let the photographer get out without a word and looked at him while he flied through Tokyo's streets.

Fuck, he was dying on an abandoned pier, and he couldn't think of anything else but that asshole. And now he was crying.

The yakuza may be an asshole, but he was HIS asshole. The young man understood that he might leave this life, but he hadn't even received an answer to his confession. Was he a little bit important in the older man's life? Would he regret him? Or would he replace him with a bimbo or another brat?

Asami had saved him from Fei Long, but maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe he was only a pawn in Asami and Fei Long's chess game. Maybe those embraces, those caresses, could have been given to anyone else. Maybe even to Fei Long.

Despite his growing weakness, thinking about the Chinese man was making him angry. And he wasn't even responsible for his coming death.

He had to leave his apartment about 2 hours prior to the meeting. So he was closing his front door at about 8:00 pm, his treasured bag with his camera in it hanging from his shoulder, when he saw a silhouette at the end of the hallway out of the corner of his eye. Asami was keeping him tailed, it seemed. It wouldn't be easy to leave the thug behind. But he had to try or he would loose the scoop.

He suddenly turned around toward the guy, making him hiding himself a little more, hence losing sight of him for a few moments. 'It seems he's a newbie, I should be able to shake him off' he thought. He dashed in the opposite direction. He went down the stairs which led to the hall, listening to the heavy steps and the bunch of curses following him. He went through the hall, still running. Once in the streets, he turned towards the nearest alley. He rushed into it, sweating a lot, and ran to the wooden wall at the end of the lane. He glanced behind him, almost laughing at the disappointed face of his pursuer, and threw his bag over the wall. He jumped over it, landing in an enormous trash can. It belonged to the restaurant at the corner of the street and was always filled with peels and waste. Nothing more agreeable to land on, if you put the smell aside.

'Shit I'll stink for hours once again'. As he was getting back his camera, he heard a thump against the wall. It seemed the thug almost reached him. But obviously, he would never be able to climb up the wall like the photographer did. He heard the goon cursing and shouted: "See you, asshole!" Then he resumed his running to the docks.

He arrived about an hour later. The port wasn't actually very far from his apartment. He had decided to retrace his steps repeatedly to be sure there weren't more of Asami's henchmen following him. When he was certain nobody was after him, he went to the warehouse in which the meeting would take place. Stopping at a few meters from the building, he looked around to choose a good place to hide. He decided to go behind a pile of boxes at the corner of the warehouse. There was just a little space left so he could watch without being seen. He had to wait for about an hour and he spent the time remaining checking his equipment. Nothing more annoying than to miss a one in a lifetime scoop because the camera's battery dies. Then he waited.

He didn't wait for long, because the bandits had decided to be ahead of schedule. But their look surprised the photographer: they looked more like a bunch of lowlifes than classy yakuza. Their weapons weren't usual either: iron bars and planks. 'Maybe it's not them' he thought. He chose to stay hidden. But the crooks weren't leaving and seemed to wait for something… or someone. They separated and began to search through the area. One of them came very close to the young man. Then the photographer realized. "Fuck it was a trap!'

Too late, the thug had seen him and yelled at his friends. The photographer tried to get away but they soon caught up with him. One of the guys kept his hands firmly behind his back, while the one who seemed to be the boss, walked towards him.

"Fooled you pretty good, right? You must be stupid to let yourself be caught so easily."

"What do you want?"

"To teach a lesson to Asami.

"That's not my name. You can let me go."

His head was flung to the left when he was slapped pretty hard. The punch cut his lip and he spat a little bit of blood to the side.

"Of course we know you're not him, do you think we're dumb? But we saw you clinging to him. And… there are rumors, you know. About you having been his whore for a few months."

"I'M NOBODY'S WHORE!"

This time it was a punch to his gut, leaving him gasping for air. He was about to cry out of anger.

"Shit, if you're working for Fei Long, tell him I give him his Asami back!"

"Who's Fei Long? Don't know him. We're working alone, see. No boss. That's why Asami's pissing us off. He owns the whole drug's network, and because of that we can't sell our stuff. So screw him, we decided to show him we're not trash."

'Fuck, don't tell me I'm going to be killed by those shitty little drug dealers. Killed by Fei Long would have been more glorious,' the young man thought.

The one who acted like a big boss made a sign for his fellows, who prepared to hit the photographer. They were swinging their makeshift weapons in the air. "Don't worry, we won't kill you, we just want to show Asami what we're capable of if he screws with us." And they began to hit.

The pain was intense. They all aimed for his legs and his knees. A plank with a remaining nail made a long cut on his calf. The iron bar made the worst damage: the photographer howled when his left knee cap snapped. It seemed it wasn't enough for the leader because, unfortunately, he ordered his band to strike again. This time his right shin took most of the blows and the young man was sure the bone was broken. His legs couldn't hold him anymore and he collapsed on the concrete floor.

Thrilled by the scent of blood like hungry hyenas, two of the lowlifes hit him one more time. The photographer shouted horribly when his thighbone broke and came through his skin, causing a pretty bad wound. It also cut his artery. Then he fainted.

When he regained consciousness, several hours had passed. There was no trace of the bandits. He couldn't move his legs and he was still well hidden behind the wooden boxes. He was bleeding to death.

The sun was just beginning to rise. The working day on the docks would soon start. But he wouldn't last much longer. Colors were dull, breathing was difficult. He didn't have much hope. Even if someone found him, it was probably too late.

Then he heard steps on the concrete floor. A silhouette appeared in front of him, cutting out the light from the rising sun. He couldn't make it out: it was dark and his sight was fading away.

"Asami?" he whispered. And he closed his eyes.