Still Raining

Still Raining
Sequel to: On the Street of Dreams
Written by: chochowilliams
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Summary: Ayaka is used to getting what she wants and what she wants now is Eiri. She’ll do whatever it takes to make him hers. Anything.
Chapter Summary: Ayaka is in the wind and everyone is scrambling to get tabs on her before it’s too late.
Warning: AU, fantasy, angst, drama, romance, M-Preg, language, character death, M/M
Parings: Ryuichi/Tatsuha, Eiri/Shuichi
Inserts: --
A/N: I realize how late the last chapter was. For that I apologize. Not only do we no longer have the net (which is a very inconvenient pain in the ass let me tell you), but I got sidetracked by several other projects. On top of that I’m trying to find a job…so things’re a bit stressful. Anyway, enjoy the final chapter!

oOo

Last Time

“Where’s Shuichi?” demanded the familiar male voice in his ear without any preamble.

Eiri snapped out of his contemplations at the sound of panic in the voice. He pushed away from the counter and walked further into the kitchen. “Why? What’s going on?” he demanded with a frown.

“Eiri please.”

The plea was laced with an urgency that had Eiri’s pulse racing. Something happened. “In the living room.”

There was a sigh and a mumbled, “Thank God.”

“Why?” His question was met with silence. It did nothing for the fear that was starting to rise within Eiri. “Seguchi. What’s going on?”

“…I’m not sure,” Tohma admitted truthfully.

“Seguchi!” He did not believe that for a second.

“I’m not! Just…Just keep Shuichi in the house. I’m sending over guards.”

He did not like this. Not at all. “What the hell is going on Tohma?”

“…You remember that betrothal you turned down?”

Eiri blinked. “To what’s-her-name? Yeah. Why?” What did one have to do with the other?

“Let’s just say there is a very good possibility that she did not take the rejection well.”

No more needed be said. Eiri swore.

oOo

Chapter 25: Boomerang from Hell Part II

That Same Night - Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan

It was late by the time Masahiro Usami returned home from the temple. Almost immediately, he noticed the family car was gone. The only reminder that a car used to sit in that very spot was the oily stain on the blacktop.

“Huh,” he muttered, “must be a leak.” Masahiro felt strangely detached from the scene before him.

Minus the possible oil leak, the silver Toyota was as close as a five year old car could come to being in “like new” condition. Its near perfect condition was thanks to not only the meticulous tender loving care Masahiro showered the vehicle with, but also from how rarely the car was used. There was no need. Using it when everything was within walking distance was a waste of gas. Even his oldest and dearest friend, Hideo Uesugi, was a quick fifteen-minute bus ride away. One of the only times the car was used was on long road trips. The car not being in its usual spot was therefore unusual, yes, but Masahiro was not worried. It just meant that his wife must have taken it for the day. It would not be the first time, but she usually let him know she was taking it.

“Maybe she left a note,” he decided.

Pushing through the gate, and shutting it firmly behind him, he started up the walk to the house. He hadn’t taken more than a step when out of the corner of his eye something sticking out of the mailbox caught his attention. Curious, he changed course.

“That fool girl!”

That day’s mail had not been collected. There were bills, several magazines his wife subscribed to, and a postcard announcing that there would be a medical refuse collection at the local fire station the following weekend.

“What’s she been doing all day?” he asked. There was an annoyed bite to his voice. “She better not have her face buried in one of those trashy romance novels again,” he grumbled. Normally, his daughter Ayaka was a sweet obedient child, but lately…He was not sure what was wrong with her. She’s been so absentminded as of late and was always on the phone.

Wait a minute. Back up.

Was it possible Ayaka met someone? Was she ready to give up on her childhood dream of marrying Eiri?

He hoped so.

Ayaka was groomed since birth to become the next Mrs. Uesugi and even though their betrothal was arranged, she’d quickly grown to love Eiri. She’d looked forward to becoming his wife, but when she was tossed aside, she’d been completely heartbroken. It’d been impossible to get her out of bed for months afterwards.

Her reaction was understandable. He’d been incensed himself at the callousness shown by his old friend’s son, but he’d tried not to dwell on it- otherwise he would have done something most unfortunate- and as a result was able to move on. After all, it wasn’t as if one failed marriage proposal was the end of the world. He went through several himself before meeting Aiko.

That his daughter had been able to bounce back from such a humiliating and public rejection as well as she had was evidence of how strong his daughter was. He was proud of her.

With the mail in hand, he strode up the walk to the house. Stopping to straighten the small potted fern a neighbor had given to them last week before moving abroad, he climbed onto the porch and strode to the front door. With the customary “I’m home” greeting ready on his lips, he grabbed the doorknob and discovered to his astonishment that the door was locked.

“What?”

Wondering if the door was just stuck, he jiggled the doorknob and pushed on the door, but it remained steadfast.

“Why’d she lock it for?”

As long as someone was home, the door was kept unlocked. It was only locked at night or when there was nobody at the house.

He rapt lightly and waited, but there was nothing but silence, so he knocked again, this time harder. Maybe Ayaka was upstairs or in the bathroom or something. He remembered the layout of his grandmother’s old house was such that if you were in the kitchen it was impossible to hear the front door.

“Ayaka,” he called loudly.

Even banging a fisted hand on the doorframe hard enough to send jolts of pain up his arm produced no results. The house remained as still as ever. He was beginning to wish he had fixed the doorbell last weekend as his wife had wanted him to do instead of pushing it off.

Beginning to grow angry, he muttered, “Where is she?”

“Masa?” a soft voice called from behind him.

Startled, Masahiro wheeled around. “Aiko.” Striding up the walk towards him was his wife. He hadn’t heard her. That was surprising. Had he been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard her pull up? As soon as he thought it, he dismissed it. Personally, he felt it was impossible to be so lost in thought as to not notice someone coming up behind you…well, maybe if you were hard of hearing, but that wouldn’t be considered “lost in thought” though would it. If this had been a movie, a show on television or a book, it would add a measure of suspense to the storyline, but since this was real life, the only times Aiko- or anyone else for that matter- managed to get the drop on him was when he was approached silently. His wife had a tendency to be more silent than a cat. He’d lost count of how many times he’s told her to “make more noise next time” and a car, even a brand new one, made some sort of noise. There was no way he shouldn’t have heard her pull up.

“What are you doing?” Aiko asked her husband, her expression twisted in confusion.

“The door’s locked,” Masahiro said, distracted, as he peered around his wife. He frowned. “Honey, where’s the car?”

Aiko frowned. She glanced over her shoulder. The spot where the car was usually parked, and it had been parked there when she left earlier that afternoon, was empty. “I thought you had it.”

Confusion and unease swirled within Masahiro as he shook his head.

They exchanged a quick panicked look before Masahiro turned back to the door and started banging on it in earnest, shouting out for his daughter to open the door right now, while his wife flew up onto the porch and dug into her purse for her keys. In her haste, she dropped them.

“Hurry!”

“I’m hurrying!”

Her hands were shaking so bad that Aiko found it difficult to fish out her house key from among the key chains, the key fob and the various key tags from shops around town.

Having lost his patience, Masahiro snatched his wife’s keys and unlocked the door. He flung the door open and stepped into the foyer with his wife right behind him. “Ayaka,” he called.

Silence.

He quickly lost his shoes and flung himself into the living room, from there giving the tatami room a quick check before going into the kitchen.

“Masa!” he heard his wife call out to him.

Masahiro abandoned his search of the bathroom. “Did you find her?” were the first words out of his mouth when he raced back into the foyer.

Standing at the antique banquet table they had inherited from his grandmother, Aiko appeared to be gazing at a bamboo bowl that was sitting next to the house phone. “They car keys are gone,” she said. They were usually kept within the bowl. “As are Ayaka’s shoes.”

Masahiro blinked. “What?” For some reason, what his wife was saying made no sense to him.

Aiko turned towards him. “I think Ayaka took the car.”

Masahiro merely blinked again. “But…” He hadn’t even realized that she had her license let alone knew how to drive. It made no sense. It was so out of character. It wasn’t like Ayaka to go running off like that. Why would she take the car without asking or without even letting them know where she was going or when she was going to be back? Had something happened? Had there been some sort of emergency? No. That made no sense. No matter what came up, Ayaka would have left a note. He was certain of it. Ayaka was a good girl. She would never break her poor dear old father’s heart by acting like some sort of hoodlum. No, something must have happened. That was the only way his precious baby girl would have disobeyed him.

By this time, he had worked himself up into a dizzying panic. He was sure something terrible had happened to his baby girl.

“P-police,” he gasped. “We’ve got to call…”

While Aiko clasped her hands together and prayed that nothing serious had befallen her only child, Masahiro called the police to report that their daughter had been kidnapped.

oOo

TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo

Chishin did not want to think about how late it was. These late nights were going to be the death of him. He just knew it. Unfortunately, they could not be helped. He had a television studio to run after all.

“I need a vacation,” he mumbled around a yawn. He scrubbed his hands over his face, wishing he were home in bed.

With a jolt that nearly sent him tumbling onto his ass, the elevator arrived at the ground floor. Regaining his balance, Chishin fixed the strap of his messenger bag that had slid down his arm and stepped away from the back wall. A ping that sounded obnoxiously loud sounded and moments later, the elevator doors slid apart. Covering another yawn, he stepped out of the car and into the grand marble and glass reception hall of TCN studios.

“Night Kinku,” he called as he crossed the lobby towards the front doors. It was a good thing that girl had the next day off. She worked longer hours than he did. Maybe he should look into giving her a raise. Or a promotion.

Isako glanced up briefly from the paperwork she was sorting through for Kinu who worked the front desk the next day. “Night, sir,” she called back before returning to the pile of papers stacked before her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the small square-shaped parcel sitting besides the now silent portable radio. “Oh! Sir! A package came for you earlier!” She jumped out of her seat and grabbing the small package, jogged around the reception desk. Her black high heels made sharp click-clack sounds against the tiled floor. With the shocking revelation of who little Takanori Uesugi’s biological father was and everything else that had been revealed at the press conference earlier that afternoon, she had completely forgotten about the package.

Chishin veered off course and met the young receptionist halfway. The package fit neatly into the palm of his hand. “Thanks.” He gave it a once over before shoving it into his bag. “Night.”

“Night sir,” Isako said.

As Chishin exited the building, he slipped the strap of his bag over his head so it lay across his chest.

The cool night air enveloped him. After the smoldering heat of the day, the cooler temperature was most welcome.

The distant rumble of the highway drifted passed him on the breeze.

He made his way down the street to the parking garage where he‘d parked his car this morning. The blood red Honda was one of the only vehicles on the ground level left. It was parked directly under a light near the security gate.

“Night,” he called to the uniform clad man.

The guard inclined his head in return.

Grabbing his keys out of the side pocket of his bag, he disengaged the car alarm and then unlocked the driver side door using the key fob. A series of beeps echoed into the silent night. He opened the door and lifting his bag over his head, slid in behind the wheel. Settling the bag in his lap, he shut and locked the door. After starting the car, he sat back, staring at the beams of light from his headlights reflected in the glass façade of the building across the street. It was a dentist’s office, he noted absently.

His mind went back to the package.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he reached into his bag and pulled it out. It was so innocuous. Smaller than a baseball. He turned it over. Nothing shifted. Maybe it was a pipe bomb, he thought with a chuckle. The chuckle died. His stomach churned instead. Shaking off the ludicrousness of such a thing, he moved his bag off his lap and into the passenger seat on top of a bunch of files. He unwrapped the standard brown paper encasing the package. There was no return address he noticed. The white cardboard box within would fit a ring case easily.

“Marriage proposal?” He chuckled at that. Better than a bomb sent by some anti-Christian nutcase.

He used his house key to slice through the tape. Inside was a piece of unlined paper folded into a square. He pulled it out. It was laying on a bed of cotton. He cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Pretty elaborate,” he thought. Why not just use an envelope? Or better yet, get his email from the TCN website and send him the message electronically.

Setting the box on his knee, he unfolded the note carefully so as to not tear it. He flipped the switch on his rearview mirror. The light on the underside of the mirror snapped on. Leaning forward, he read the one line in the light.

“Small steps”.

Chishin blinked. What?

Setting the note on the dashboard, he picked up the box and plucked out the cotton.

“Oh. My. God,” he whispered around a racing pulse. Laying there on a second piece of paper was a small bone chip preserved in an airtight container. “Oh. My. God.” His hands shaking, he picked up the bone fragment. It was shaped like an arrowhead and whiter than the cotton. “It can’t be,” he whispered. Tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision. His throat ached.

Setting the box back on his knee, he palmed the airtight container and unfolded the second note. He held it under the dim light emanating from the rearview mirror. As he scanned it, a smile spread across his face. It wasn’t a note, but a copy of an editorial that was going to be in the next issue of The Trinity. “How the Devil Lead Me Astray,” read the headline. The byline underneath read, “By Nami Mataguchi.”

Replacing the bone fragment, he reached into his bag for his cellphone. Opening the address book, he scrolled down until he found her name and then pressed the call button. The line had barely begun ringing when she picked up. “Wanna go grab some coffee?”

Small steps, yes, but steps in the right direction.

oOo

Seguchi Residence - Tokyo Midtown Residence - Tokyo

As once again Mika was to have dinner without her husband, who has been wayward more and more as of late, she decided to scuttle previous dinner plans and order out. She thought briefly of the diet she had decided that morning- thanks to the scale claiming she put on ten pounds- she needed to go on.

“To hell with it,” she decided.

There was always tomorrow.

After digging out the menus from the utility drawer in the kitchen and turning through them one by one, she finally decided on the lemon chicken from Shanghai located right down the street. She made the call and placed her order for delivery.

As she was returning the menus to the utility drawer, the picture of a large square-shaped pizza next to a platter of chicken wings on the front of the menu for Torpedo Pizza caught her attention. Instead of it starting her mouth watering and forcing a grumble from her empty stomach, a wave of nausea rolled through her. She could literally feel the color drain from her face as her stomach rolled and rebelled. Feeling as if she were going to be sick, Mika tossed the menus aside and raced to the bathroom. The water closet off the foyer being the nearest, she veered towards it. She made it just in time.

Something told her this was all Tohma’s fault.

oOo

A Couple Hours Later - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan

A silver Toyota was parked along the curb in the shadows. The engine was idling. Behind the wheel was a nineteen-year-old girl. Her long mousy brown hair flowed freely down her back and her light brown eyes were filled with disgust and loathing as she watched a black limo pull away from the curb in front of the Koishikawa Park Tower and drive off down the street, vanishing from view as it turned the corner.

With the limo gone, the teenager standing on the sidewalk who she knew was eighteen, a year younger than she was, but looked only sixteen, came into view. In his arms was a sleeping child. Her harsh features softened as she took in the toddler’s chubby features and the mused jet-black hair. She wondered if she’d be able to get him to call her mama. Wouldn’t that be nice? She’d always wanted to be a mother. The revulsion she felt for the singer returned tenfold as her gaze shifted from the child to the slight protrudence that was the singer’s belly. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. She bared her teeth.

Beside the object of her hatred was her fiancé. She glared at the arm he had draped in an almost protective nature around the smaller man’s shoulders.

He was dead! Dead!

And her chance came. Shuichi stepped out from under Eiri’s arm and turned towards him. He said something to Eiri, which she could not hear for they were too far from where she lay in wait, but she could guess what was said as her betrothed nodded and took the sleeping child from Shuichi. This was it! Shifting the car into gear, she slammed her foot on the accelerator. The car pulled away from the curb like a shot. Heedless of the traffic and pedestrians, Ayaka Usami aimed her father’s car straight at Shuichi Shindou.

“Die,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

oOo

Aizawa Residence - Kyoto, Japan

With a whicker basket of white, baby blue, lemon yellow and black yarn at her side, Oharu Aizawa was sitting on the sofa watching a rerun of her favorite show while trying to finish the baby blanket she was making for her niece’s baby shower that was this weekend. Her husband was in his usual place reading the newspaper and completely ignoring the television. She had no idea how he was able to do that.

“The same way you can knit and pay attention to the TV at the same time,” was what he once told her.

When the phone rang, her hands stilled. She frowned. The click clacking of the silver knitting needles silenced, she spared a quick glance at the clock on the side table. Who could that be so late? She exchanged a glance with her husband who was peering at her from behind a folded down corner of the newspaper. From the look on his face, he hadn’t a clue either.

Untangling the yarn from around her hands, Oharu set her work aside and crossed the living room to the foyer where the cordless phone extension was sitting on the sideboard. “Hello?” she breathed softly into the mouthpiece.

“…Uhm…hello,” spoke the soft female voice hesitantly over the line. “…I’m…I’m sorry for calling so late…but…uhm…is this the Aizawa residence?”

“Yes it is,” she confirmed. At the sound behind her, Oharu glanced over her shoulder. It was her husband.

“Who is it?” he mouthed.

She shrugged.

“…This is…Are you Taki’s…uhm…Did you-?”

Oharu latched onto her son’s name. Her grip on the phone tightened. “Did you know my son Miss?” For some reason, her pulse started racing.

There was a heavy sigh over the line. “Yes, yes I did,” the woman said. She sounded more confident. “That’s…that’s actually why I called…uhm…Do you think…Tomorrow…That is…”

“Are you alright miss? Does this have to do with my son?”

“…Actually…it does.”

Oharu held her breath.

“Look, uhm, your son and I…we had a…a…thing for a…for some time and…we had a falling out and…well…I never told him because I was angry at him for being…well…for being Taki and…and…and well…”

Oharu was hard pressed to make any sense out of what she was hearing. “I don’t understand. Did you use to date my son?”

She felt her husband snap to attention behind her.

“…Sort of. Look, Mrs. Aizawa, the thing is…” There was another heavy sigh over the line. “Is there a time when we can meet?”

Oharu blinked. “Does it concern my son?”

Masato drew nearer.

“Yes.”

“How about tomorrow afternoon? Will that work?”

“That’s perfect. Thank you.”

She relayed her address before saying goodbye and hanging up.

“What was that about? What did she say about Taki?” her husband demanded.

Oharu shook her head. “I’m not sure. She said she had something she needed to discuss with us about Taki and that she couldn’t do it over the phone.”

Masato frowned, his forehead lined in thought.

oOo

Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan

Mai Shindou had read about this happening in countless books. It had become such a commonplace phrase to use in fiction that it had since lost its effectiveness. The shock impact it used to convey was lost. It cannot be used without people rolling their eyes at such unoriginality or without the spelling/grammar check on the computer highlighting it as being cliché. Please consider using the following instead. Never had she once imagined that such a cliché impossibility could actually become possible, let alone be witness to such an event when she left the safety of her house in Kyoto earlier that day.

But here she was.

Time seemed to stop for a mere instant, but an instant was all that was needed. She stood frozen on the sidewalk. Her heart lay silent within her chest. Her breath frozen within her lungs. Her mind was blank. She could do nothing but stare at the scene unfolding before her.

When the instant dissolved, time did not return to its normal pace. In fact, it actually seemed to be playing reality at half speed. Like in those numerous books she’d read, it was as if she had all the time in the world to snap herself out of her stupor and tear down the street, pushing rudely passed the pedestrians that were hampering her ability to get to where she knew she had to be, but she pressed on.

She was not going to make it in time!

There was utter chaos around her. So many people were yelling and scrambling to get out of the way of the car careening out of control. Not her though. She was heading straight into the heart of the turmoil. She had to. There was no other option. It was her duty as a mother, as a grandmother, as a human being.

Her honey colored hair had come free of its restraint and was streaming out behind her and her bronzite eyes were wide in fear. Her breath was coming out in panting breathes. There was a stitch in her side.

When time slowed down, hope was borne within her. She believed she had all the time in the world to shout to her son and push him out of the way of the white- or was it silver?- car with a flying tackle she’d learned from watching American football, something that her husband had recently become obsessed with.

Her belief was justified.

The last image she had was of her son, her precious baby boy, laying sprawled out on the sidewalk surrounded by a contingent of black clad men and women who had appeared from out of nowhere.

“Thank God,” she whispered before her body exploded in pain. She was smiling when the nothingness claimed her.

---TBC---

A/N: I want to thank Namikaze naruko 14, Selina, fangirl 666, DarkestFlameUchiha, ferler, sexy.uesugi.shuichi for their reviews. I absolutely LOVE hearing from you guys. Thanks!

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