Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ This I Promise You ❯ Urgent! ( Chapter 11 )

This I Promise You

Prequel to: Because of You

Written by: Chocho

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation

Story summary: Everybody assured him Rinjin Yasashii was just another obsessed fan with a crush and that there was nothing to worry about. Little did they know how wrong they all were.

Chapter summary: I will convince him that it is his destiny to be with me, no matter what he may think…Dammit! How could we not have seen it? I just hope he is alright!

Warnings: M-preg, explicit sex, language, violence, angst

Key: [Blah] or Blah blah blah: flashback/dream

BLAH or Blah: stressed words

*: change in POV or time

 

***

 

Chapter 11: Urgent!

 

 

“And?”

 

Niwa shook his head. “That's it! I swear!” He slid to the edge of the chair and clasped his hands together. “It was a job! I didn't think...He wasn't like this at the beginning. I realized he was losing it, but...I was in too deep and-“

 

Tohma raised a hand. “You will be punished for your part, but right now you will help me stop Rinjin-san before he does something we'll both regret.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Niwa sighed heavily, hanging his head dejectedly.

 

A knock on the office door interrupted the pair. Tohma looked up as his secretary stuck her head in. “Yes?”

 

“Gomen for bothering you, sir, but Kitagawa-san said you were waiting for a package.”

 

“Has it arrived?” he inquired in that same non-chalant tone.

 

“Yes, sir.” She strode across the room and set the white envelope into her boss's hand. Stepping back, she bowed. “Will that be all, sir?”

 

Tohma ripped open the envelope and poured out a copy of a signed confession and a large photo sheet with reduced images of the two dozen photos that had been found in the man's possession. He scanned the confession and then the photos with a quick, careful eye. “Get me Shuichi and call detective Liharu. Tell him I would like a word with him as soon as possible.”

 

“Yes, sir.” She bowed and left the office, closing the door behind her.

 

Tohma set the documents on the desk and leaned forward, clasping his hands on top of his desk. “Tell me, Niwa. What do you know of an Isaac Smith your friend hired?”

 

Niwa blinked stupidly. “Who?”

 

“The photographer he hired.”

 

The ex-Special Ops man's eyes widened in shock and his breathing sped. “I, uh, I don't-“

 

The producer lightly slapped the desk as he sat back

 

Niwa jumped as if he had been shot. “I swear! I don't know anything about him!” He was this close to wetting himself.

 

Tohma just stared at him calmly.

 

Niwa felt as if he were being interrogated by an enemy operative. He had never been so scared in his entire life and Seguchi Tohma had done nothing. He has shown no emotions. He had not raised his voice. He just sat there behind his desk with that non-chalant look. The man was eerily calm about this whole thing and it was creeping him out. “I swear I don't know anything! All I had to do was bug whatever studio Bad Luck would be using that day and keep Yasa informed in case something happened! I swear! That's it!”

 

“So, he appearing wherever Shuichi was was not a coincidence,” Tohma said more to himself.

 

Niwa shook his head. “I know the photographer Yasa hired was this guy who could get some amazing shots, shots other people could only dream of. But I've never met him. Yasa rented out a postal box at the post office and they would communicate that way. Yasa would leave the money and the guy would leave the photos. I swear, that's it!”

 

Strangely enough, Tohma believed him. He stared down at the sheet of photos, frowning. According to his own statement, Isaac Smith had been approached by Rinjin a month ago at the opening of a photo exhibit at the local art museum. The two talked and Smith ended up telling Rinjin about how he had earned a BA in photography, but had decided to go into the Police Academy instead of pursuing a career as a photographer. Then several years later, he quit the force and joined a firm that specialized in bodyguard work. After a couple years of guarding small time peons and people who thought they needed a bodyguard, but who really needed a real good dose of reality and a slap upside the head, he was hired to guard none other than Shindou Shuichi. But a year ago, he was fired.

 

Tohma remembered the incident that got the man fired. His knuckles turned white as he clenched the paper tight, his memory of that night all too vivid. Shuichi had almost been killed in his dressing room right before Bad Luck was scheduled to take the stage at Madison Square Garden. A distraught father who lost it after he discovered his daughter's body hanging from the curtain rod in her closet. The girl hung herself after learning that her boyfriend wanted more to do with her. She had been pregnant and suffering from a severe bout of depression. Playing on her CD player when he found her was Bad Luck. The man blamed the group, or more precisely, Shuichi for his daughter's death. Somehow, the man managed to get backstage and with a knife. Smith had been on duty that night, but he had disappeared somewhere and that was when the deranged father attacked. Smith had been found later in the bathrooms, as high as a kite.

 

Smith confessed that he had always held a grudge with both the singer and Tohma and Rinjin made him an offer he could not refuse. Yesterday morning, he had been on his way to NG to confront Shuichi when the accident happened. He had been planning on blackmailing the singer. In exchange for a couple million Yen, he would keep the blatantly graphic photos in a shoebox in the back of the closet.

 

“Sir,” came his secretary's voice over the intercom. “I called Detective Liharu and he said he would be able to make it within the next fifteen minutes, but I could not get hold of Shindou-san.”

 

“Did you call the apartment,” Tohma asked, trying not to show any emotion. Cool and calm. He had to stay in control, otherwise he would be of no use to anyone.

 

“Yes, sir, I did, but there was no answer. I called his cell phone but only got his voice mail.”

 

Tohma pursed his lips and sat back in the chair, folding his hands under his chin. He stared at the photos but had to look away when he felt his stomach churn as he realized some pervert had been watching his brother's-in-law's very private moments, capturing them for some sick psycho who would do who the hell knows what with them.

 

Some pictures were just of Shuichi walking down the street, shopping. Others were of Eiri and him in their apartment yelling at each other. Some pictures captured the singer and his boyfriend cuddling on the couch. There was one of them kissing as they were making dinner, it just a chaste kiss, a quick peck, but the look in their eyes and on their faces was worth a thousand words. Others showed the singer walking about the apartment in various stages of dress or undress. There were still others that captured the couple in various positions he would rather not know about. It was like walking in on your parents and realizing that they were people as well.

 

“Sir?”

 

“Get Eiri on the line for me and have Sakano check the studio. Shuichi may have come in and be in the middle of recording.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Tohma glanced at the man sitting in front of him until the guy squirmed. “Now, let's start from the beginning, shall we?”

 

Kakei Niwa slid down in the seat, groaning.

 

*

 

The man sits in a chair in the corner of the dark bedroom, staring at the sleeping figure on the bed. He waits patiently for his love to wake, waits to show him just what love really is between two people. He would make him understand just how wrong his relationship to that perverted womanizing writer is.

 

He was the only one for Shindou-san. He was the only one able to bestow him with the miracle of love. With soft kisses and a gentle caress of hands, candlelight dinners, romantic moon lit walks, sweet love making that none other could satisfy, walking hand in hand down the street, feeding each other ice cream, cuddling on a cold winter's night, he would show him. He wanted to be the one Shindou-san woke next to each morning and went to bed with each night. At the end of each day, Shindou would walk through these doors to a husband that had slaved away all day to prepare the perfect dinner, a man who smiled and laughed and wanted to know all about his day.

 

Yes, Rinjin Yasashii was the ideal man to spend eternity with. Not that damn writer who only pretended to give a damn. And when Shuichi finally woke up, he would convince him in whatever means necessary.

 

*

 

It was the same.

 

Today was like a repeat of yesterday. Suguru sat at the console, staring blankly through the window at Kei, Kai and Michael as they played an old Bad Luck tune to pass the time. The three of them were laughing and joking, not a care in the world. On the other hand, Hiro sat on the couch with his head in his hands, dejected.

 

“It's all my fault,” he mumbled.

 

“Yes, it is,” Suguru agreed.

 

Hiro's head shot up. He glared at him with a mixed look. Part of him hated the younger man for agreeing and the other was sad because it was true.

 

“But,” Suguru continued, “Shindou-san will be here. If for nothing more than to talk things out with you. Yuki-san will see to that.”

 

The red-haired guitarist sighed. He was not so sure. It was already nine and if Shuichi were going to come into work today, he would have an hour and a half ago. No, making an ass out of himself yesterday, he could not blame Shuichi if he skipped work for the next several days or never spoke with him again.

 

Suddenly the door to the studio burst open and Sakano-san glanced around nervously. He was sweating and ringing his hands.

 

“Sakano-san? What's wrong?” Hiro asked the prematurely grey-haired man.

 

“Uh, where's Shindou-san?” his eyes darted around the large, plush studio.

 

Suguru shook his head. “Unfortunately, Hiro and he got into it yesterday and he might not be in for a couple of days.”

 

The producer's eyes widened. “N-not h-here?” He looked ready to faint.

 

“Yeah. If Tohma wants to speak with him, I'm sure that-“

 

“What's going on?” Kai asked as he stepped out of the recording booth.

 

“Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear. This isn't good,” Sakano muttered.

 

“Sakano, what's wrong?” Suguru glanced at the others. Sakano-san had always been a nervous wreck, no matter what was going on, but this time, it seemed different. None of them could explain it. Maybe it had to do with the underlining fears that they have all had this past month whenever Shuichi would try to tell them about his creepy neighbor.

 

Hiro stood up and walked over to the producer. “Sakano-san, calm down. Look, I'm sure Seguchi-san will understand if we just-“

 

“No! No! No! You don't understand! We can't find Shindou-san! That's why the boss sent me down here!”

 

The announcement shocked the room into stunned silence. Shuichi was missing?

 

“Shit,” Kai whispered. He glanced at his twin and their half-American friend with a knowing glance. They had been afraid of something like this.

 

*

 

“Sir, I have your brother-in-law on the phone,” came the secretary's voice over the inter-com, interrupting Niwa's self-incrimination.

 

Niwa sighed in relief. Now he knew what clothes felt like in the washer.

 

Tohma picked up the phone. “Eiri, where are you right now?”

 

“On my home, why?”

 

“Is Shuichi with you?”

 

“Shuichi? No,” Eiri said, drawing it out. “He was getting ready for work when I left. He should be at the studio. Why?”

 

Tohma sighed. He hated to be the bearer of bad news.

 

Eiri slowed to a stop at a red light. He suddenly had a bad feeling. “Tohma? What's going on?”

 

“Have you heard from him since you left?”

 

“Why would I?” He shook his head. “Tohma, what's going on?”

 

Before Tohma could answer, there came a knock on his office door. He called out for whoever it was to enter. The members of Bad Luck with a hyperventilating Sakano behind him entered, he held up a hand to hold all questions and motioned them over. “Do you remember that accident yesterday? The one that held up traffic for hours?”

 

Eiri blinked. “Yeah.”

 

“And do you remember an Isaac Smith?”

 

The new occupants blinked at the question. The blond writer was just as confused, but he remembered the guy. How could he not? Isaac Smith was a big, black American guy who had been assigned to be Shuichi's bodyguard whenever he went out in public. Like for concerts, any kind of public appearance, even when the singer wanted to go out clubbing or bar hopping or just out shopping. Stuff like that. The man looked like he could bench press a city bus with each finger. “I do. Why? What's-“

 

“Well, it seems as if he was the one who caused it.”

 

“Okay. And?” The light changed and Eiri sped through the intersection.

 

“Well, some very graphic photos were found in his car and when confronted with them by the police, he confessed he had been hired to take them.”

 

Eiri felt a huge weight of dread settle over him. “What do you mean by `graphic'? And who are they of?” Something told him he did not want to know.

 

“Let's just say, that I had no idea you or Shu-kun could move or bend like that.”

 

Eiri cursed and swerved as a semi suddenly in his path and almost ended up head first in a car that suddenly braked in front of him, double parking. He swore again, honking his horn. Making sure the coast was clear, the writer pulled into the opposite lane, rounding the dumb shit who thought the street was a parking lot and floored it. “He took photos of us?”

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

“Fuck! Where the hell is that bastard? I want his head!”

 

“He passed away a few hours ago due to his wounds.”

 

“Hope the bastard fries in hell!”

 

“Eiri-“

 

“Who hired him?” the writer demanded.

 

“Eiri, let the police handle this,” Tohma suggested calmly.

 

Eiri snorted. “This coming from you, Tohma?” He clucked his tongue. “Are we getting soft?”

 

“Please, Eiri. This time let the police handle this. Yasas-“

 

“Bloody hell,” Eiri cursed, speeding up. He ignored all traffic laws as all the pieces suddenly fell into place. That psychotic bastard had his Shuichi, his Shu-chan! He was the reason his baka had those nightmares almost every night. He was the one who had explicit photos taken that only he and Shuichi should have. “I'm going to kill that bastard,” he muttered, seething.

 

“Eiri, I know how you feel, but-Eiri? Eiri? Shit,” he cursed, slamming phone down.

 

Just then, the door opened and in walked Detective Liharu. He was an average looking Japanese man in a non-discreet suit that seemed a little bit rumpled.

 

“I need you to get some men to my brother's-in-law's apartment building, now,” Tohma told the man, standing up.

 

“May I ask why?”

 

“I'll tell you on the way there,” he said, striding out of the office, dragging Niwa with him.

 

The detective exchanged a confused glance with the pop band before following him out.

 

“Let's just hope to Kami-sama that Shuichi just has his phone off,” Tohma told himself. If anything happened to the lithe singer, none of them would ever forgive themselves, especially Eiri and Tohma did not want to see his best friend hurt again. Not after the man had finally been able to move on with his life.

 

***

 

A/N: The story about Isaac Smith and the deranged father is a separate one-shot called, “Parental Revenge”.