I've Fallen (And I Can't Get Up)
(sequel to Blood in the Viewfinder)

To begin with, Oyabun was dead. In celebration, Asami reluctantly hung up his pirate's hat, and bought himself a brand-new extra spacious five bedroom mansion with a view of the Tokyo skyline (a requirement) and paid for it, in cash. The new mansion even had that new mansion smell. Whatever that smelled like. Most likely it smelled like money.

It seemed Kirishima really did have a head for numbers (or numbers floating in his head) and Asami's stocks paid dividends far greater than any of the more surreptitious activities that were profitable in the past….pre anti-Yakuza law days. Ahhhh, the good old days, when he did bad things, not that he still didn't do bad things, they just….weren't AS BAD anymore. That still didn't mean he was a good guy though.

Anyway, the first thing he did after he rose from the ashes was shave. And underneath that beard, which had grown to the point where he had to sip miso soup out of a straw or else find little black hairs floating at the bottom of his bowl, he found a man staring back at him, a man he had thought he had forgotten, the visage of his late father.

"Kirishima!" He yelled, and immediately heard the swish of Kirishima's feet on the stone floor of his new purchase coming quickly towards him, gun raised, ready to take out whatever spider that might be crawling on the ceiling of Asami's expansive bedroom suite.

"Yes, Sparrow? I mean, Asami-sama?" He said, and it might have looked like he was smiling to the casual observer and of course, you'd be wrong. Perfect secretaries/bodyguards never, ever smile (that's rule #1).

"Do you think I'm getting old, Kirishima?" He asked, and it sounded like a woman asking her husband if she thought this dress made her look fat.

"Of course not, you're as healthy as a horse." Good answer! One hundred points for Kirishima.

"I'm not talking about my health, I'm talking about my face. I swear, I spent months at sea, and now I have wrinkles." He said, taking a look in the mirror, his fingers pulling at tiny unseen lines around his eyes. "I should have Botox or something."

"If you're concerned about it, I will look into it." And the corners of his mouth threatened to rise just slightly. (See Rule #1)

"I'm not concerned, I'm just….ok…I'm concerned." His brow furrowed, which he poked at with his fingers to smooth.

"Since when?" He asked. Seriously, if he smiled anymore, he was the one going to get wrinkles.

"Since…I saw myself in the mirror. I haven't had a good look at myself in months, the mirror on the boat steams up, so all I get is this blurry outline. And when I shaved off my beard….good god man, I felt faint."

"I think you look the same as always." False. He wasn't wearing a three-piece suit, he was in his boxers and robe. (Growl)

"That's because you never did get new glasses." True. He just never got around to it.

"What would you like me to do, Asami-sama?" He asked, hiding his face behind some paperwork, because seriously, he was stifling a smile so broad his face hurt. (Rule #1 again).

"Other than get new glasses?" He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Turn back time? Develop a youth elixir? Make me immortal?"

"Children are the only form of immortality that we can be sure of, to quote Peter Ustinov." And he gave his glasses a philosophical shove up his nose.

"Those rugrats? Sticky-fingered ankle biters? Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? Bite your tongue, and I mean that literally." And he smirked. (Seriously, was that smirk permanent or something?)

"You can always make a donation at a local sperm bank, and see what develops." And that sounded so witty to Kirishima (even though it wasn't) he thought he'd write it down in his journal of valuable quotes and sayings that he kept handy. "I can think of worse things than children, Asami-sama."

"I can't." He exhaled, which sounded like a sigh, but it wasn't. He stared at his reflection again. "Maybe I've spent too much time in the sun."

"That could be, Asami-sama."

"What's on my agenda today? And please don't tell me I have to meet with that skank Sudoh. If he looks at me one more time with those "come-hither" eyes, I'm going to throttle him."

"You could always fire him."

"He's the cousin of the Prime Minister. I really don't want any more enemies than I already have."

"Step-Cousin…three-times removed, on his ex-wife's side."

"It's all relative," and he grinned at that witty remark. Taking out a toothpick and rolling between his fingers he asked, "So, the agenda?"

"Today's agenda includes: Meeting with the contractor at Club Sion, he wants you to approve the paint colors for the VIP room, a luncheon with your Investor's Club, authorization of a new contract with Dogo group followed by," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "teawithyourmother."

"Busy day….so….tea with my mother, huh? Don't think you got that one by me while you rambled on." He rebuked.

"I'm sorry, but she insisted. You haven't seen her since before the boat incident. For a while there, I think she really believed in your demise.

"I'm glad you straightened her out. I guess I need to smooth things over seeing as I missed her 70th birthday party."

"Just FYI. She has a list of potential ladies for an omiai….rich, beautiful ladies, just thought I'd warn you, so you can easily change the subject."

"Why do people have to meddle in my private life, and make problems for me?"

"Because they have nothing better to do?" He answered quickly.

"Gossip is the lowest form of discourse."

"Is that a Biblical quote?"

"No, Jacqueline Bisset. Now that woman, I would marry." He flicked the toothpick in his mouth. Cherry flavor. . .which didn't taste like cherries at all, more like a fruity chemical flavor. "We need to stop at Starbuck's first."

"The Starbuck's in Otemachi on Chiyoda?" Kirishima asked.

"Aren't there five on Chiyoda?" Asami asked.

"There's eight now." He replied.

"The one in the Mitsubishi building, then." Asami said.

"The one with the barista with a wart on her nose?" Kirishima asked.

"That witch? She gives me the creeps, she always flashes me the evil eye when I give her my lengthy order."

"She should serve you with a smile, Asami-sama." And he pushed up his glasses with one finger. "That is her job."

"She did smile at me once, as I recall, when I complimented her barista skills. For a girl, she has a cute smile, warts and all."

"Do you have a crush on your barista?"

"I like all Starbuck's baristas. Something about that little green apron does things to me." New fantasy….Akihito wearing the green apron, with nothing underneath, calling out his order from behind the counter and saying things like Asami-sama, don't burn yourself, that coffee is really hooootttt. And then, he would lick the whipped cream off the top of his Frappuccino while posing seductively and blushing like a neon sign. Asami was a horny old man, trapped in a horny teenager's body.

He coughed. If he was (a lot) younger, he'd have a nosebleed. "Look into Starbuck's stock. Coffee…it seems, is the new drug of choice."

"It's the breakfast of champions. That and cigarettes, and you have a nice meal."

"Remind me to throw out that book of quotes later."

Finally dressed, in his perfect fitting tweed three-piece suit, off to boring work Asami went, in his shiny black limo. Why? Because Asami had developed an affection for the vehicle since he and Akihito did the nasty in the backseat almost two months ago. If he was alone, he'd be dry humping the seat. The constant reminder did things to his overactive lust-filled imagination, since he was working on another good fantasy (besides the Starbuck's one-shot) to jack-off to in the shower later. This one involved Akihito saving Asami (who was a handsome prince) from drowning and then finding out Akihito was a mermaid…merman….merboy? Why did this story sound familiar? And why was everyone in his fantasy singing and combing their hair with forks? And how was he supposed to have sex with a fish's lower half? Don't answer that.

"When is Akihito back?" He asked, for like the fifth time in the last twenty-four hours.

"The day after tomorrow." Amazing, he didn't show any irritation from that repeated question. Two-hundred points for Kirishima.

"Huh. Two months flew by fast." He said nonchalantly, even though they didn't. Everyday he'd ask Kirishima what day the boy would be back, and everyday Kirishima would give him the countdown, like he was waiting for Santa. A rather skinny Santa, with two small sacks, instead of one big one. You'd think Asami had something wrong with him, like he was in love or something. But as everyone knew, that would be silly, because he wasn't that kind of man.

"How is he? Any word?" He hoped he wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere or being eaten by panthers. He was the only one who could eat Akihito like a smorgasbord. As his master, he had rights, you know.

"No news is good news, as the saying goes."

Asami did something he never does, ever. He rolled his eyes. "That really isn't helpful." He said with annoyance, sipping his triple venti three-pump vanilla skinny 180° latte no whip, slowly, wondering why the hell he kept Kirishima around. Oh yeah, that's right, because he was the one who did all the work he didn't want to do, which was pretty much all of it. He was to busy standing around, looking cool, chewing on toothpicks, drinking Starbucks, while thinking up raunchy fantasies starring a tsundere Akihito.

This was going to be a long two days.