Chapter Text
The announcement appeared in every magazine, every newspaper, and every news station in the city: a three night Masquerade Gala was to be held at the Grand Scion Hotel at the end of the month. Within hours, word spread and rumours were flying as the entire city speculated about the event. Some claimed that every celebrity in the country would be attending. Others had heard from the-friend-of-a-cousin that royalty from around the world had been invited. What everyone could agree on, however, was that the Gala was to be hosted by the most powerful, enigmatic, and illustrious man in the city, who was commonly known as the King of Tokyo.
His name was Asami Ryuichi, and nobody quite knew who he was or where he had come from. Yet in the three years since he had opened his first club in Shibuya, he had risen exponentially in power, conquering first the entertainment business before moving on to nearly every other enterprise in the city. He owned clubs, restaurants, spas, retail chains, galleries, museums, and much more. His newest property, The Grand Scion Hotel where the Gala was to be held, had not only rivaled but completely displaced the Imperial Hotel as Japan’s most famous and expensive hotel.
His nickname, the King of Tokyo, had emerged when critics had suggested that Asami was underhandedly controlling both the police force and the politicians, and thus the entire city. Numerous attempts to expose him had been made, but nobody could prove anything, and so Asami continued to reign unchallenged over Tokyo. The voices criticizing him had been few, however, and the rest of the city had no qualms about calling him the King, especially when he created so much excitement for Tokyo with events such as this.
When the announcement about the Masquerade Gala spread, nearly every single person in the city was dying to go, and twenty-year-old Takaba Akihito was no exception. As an aspiring photojournalist, Akihito had first heard the news when it spread like wildfire around his university campus, and had known instantly that this was the chance of a lifetime. The photojournalist world was competitive, he knew from experience, and Akihito had more of a challenge than most: not only did he have to make a name for himself, but he had to do it without being criticized for standing on the shoulders of his famous step-father, the renowned photojournalist Takaba Hitoshi. What Akihito wanted more than anything else was to prove to himself, the world, and especially to his step-father that he was capable of taking great pictures to make headlines, and Akihito was certain that getting good shots of the upcoming Gala was just the way to do that.
“You’re crazy, Aki,” his step-brother Kou told him immediately when Akihito explained his plan later that day. “Haven’t you heard? Journalists aren’t allowed inside the venue, and besides, there’s no way you’d even get an invite to that thing! Isn’t it like, exclusively for the rich and famous?”
“Not only,” Akihito shook his head, “I did some digging, and I found out that there are a limited number of invitations available to be purchased by anybody from the general public!”
Takato, Akihito’s other step-brother, frowned at his excitement, “I’ve heard that those have already sold out.”
“What? No way!” Akihito hadn’t heard that bit of disappointing news. He’d been thrilled to discover the public invitations, because Kou was right, otherwise there was little hope of him even getting in to the Gala.
“Besides,” Takato continued talking right over Akihito’s outburst, “there’s no way in hell Dad would let you go to this thing anyway. You know he hates Asami Ryuichi.” All three boys rolled their eyes at the overly-familiar knowledge. Their father was a well-known journalist, but had recently lost a lot of respect for trying to publish an exposé on the King of Tokyo’s more illicit behaviour. Somehow, the photos he had taken had been proved to be doctored (even though they hadn’t been, Akihito knew for a fact) and Takaba Hitoshi had been publicly criticized for poor conduct.
Hitoshi, who had already disliked Asami for his suspected underworld dealings, had since made his loathing for the King of Tokyo clear, and swore that he would bring the man down no matter the cost. It was a vow the boys heard daily, and though they took their father seriously, warnings about Asami Ryuichi were so common that they were beginning to lose their effect, at least on Akihito.
“But getting pictures of the Gala could be the scoop we need to expose the guy,” Akihito pointed out primly. He knew his step-father’s opinion, so he’d thought this through really carefully. “Think about it: Asami obviously doesn’t want the press inside the Gala for a reason. If I can sneak in and get a picture of whatever that reason is, then maybe we can use it against him! I’d be helping to take Asami down, which is what Dad really wants! So there’s no way that Dad can object to me going!” Takato and Kou shot each other uneasy looks, but Akihito ignored them. Their father was going to support him in this, he was sure of it.
*
“Absolutely not,” Hitoshi’s refusal was immediate and cold, leaving no room for argument. Akihito had just finished eagerly explaining his plan, hoping to hear his step-father get excited about his idea. By the look on Hitoshi’s face, though, excitement was the last thing that he was feeling. Rage was probably closer, his face was getting kind of purple-ish, but Akihito wasn’t really one to take no for an answer.
“C’mon, Dad! I can do this! Just listen, I’ve got it all figured out—”
“Akihito, I said no!” his father slammed his coffee mug down hard on the kitchen table, making Akihito jump and his brothers scurry out of the room. “Asami Ryuichi is dangerous. I don’t know how many times I need to say that for you to get it through your head! He is a powerful man with the police in his pocket, and he will not take well to you spying on him. He could very easily have you killed if he caught you!”
“He wouldn’t catch me! I doubt he’d even notice me,” Akihito argued. “Besides, he didn’t have you killed!”
“That is because I am good at my job! You are not in the same position: you have no experience, and no idea what you are getting yourself into!”
“I know exactly what I’m getting into! Dad, this is what I want to do with my life!”
“You want to end your life, you mean!”
“Look, I don’t really need your permission,” Akihito snapped. “I told you because I thought you’d be excited for me, but I’m twenty now. I can do what I want.”
“Not while you live in my house you can’t!” Hitoshi’s voice rose steadily until it thundered through the entire house; Akihito had never seen his step-father this angry before. “You live under my roof, you live under my rules, and you will not be going to that Gala. That is final, Akihito. End of discussion.”
Akihito’s eyes stung and he bit his tongue to keep from crying or shouting back at his father. He stood still, trembling and fuming for a minute, before turning and slamming the kitchen door behind him as he raced up to his room. This wasn’t fair! Hitoshi had no trust in him, no confidence whatsoever that Akihito was capable of pulling this off. But he could do it! And… and he would! No matter what Hitoshi said, Akihito was going to find a way to get into that Gala. He would find whatever Asami was hiding, expose the King of Tokyo for what he truly was, and get all the glory that his father had lost.
*
Of course, proving Hitoshi wrong was easier said than done. First Akihito had to find a way to get into the Grand Scion Hotel, and Takato had been right: public invitations had sold out within minutes of going up for sale. Scalpers were re-selling invitations of course, but they had gone up exponentially in price, and there was no way that Aki could afford those on a student budget. He’d tried scoping out the Grand Scion instead, but with preparations going on for the Gala, he had quickly been spotted and thrown off the premises. At this point, things were looking bleak: the Masquerade Gala was in two days, and Akihito was rapidly running out of options.
His challenge was made all the more difficult by the fact that Hitoshi, knowing his hot-headed step-son, had set Takato and Kou spying on Akihito. He couldn’t go anywhere without his brothers tagging along, and though they usually got along well, this was starting to get on Aki’s nerves. The family had even gone to the trouble of making sure that they had plans for the weekend of the Gala, purchasing tickets to a baseball game, a concert, and even trying to tempt Akihito with Tokyo Disneyland. Now Akihito was going to have to find a way of getting out of the plans with his family, and getting in to the Gala, all without being caught by his father or Asami’s security. This was starting to seem like mission impossible.
On the day before the Gala, Akihito resorted to desperate measures. His step-father had a colleague, a man named Mitarai, who sometimes worked with Hitoshi on scoops and split the profit. Akihito knew that turning to Mitarai was a risky move, for a number of reasons: first, there was a huge possibility that the older photographer would just turn Akihito in to his father. Second, even if Mitarai agreed to help Akihito, he would probably ask for an unreasonable split of the profit and glory. But Aki was willing to take the chance, because Mitarai was known in the photo-business for being able to find ways to sneak in anywhere. If anybody could get Akihito in to the Grand Scion Hotel for the nights of the Masquerade Gala, it was Mitarai.
“So, you want me to smuggle you in to the Masquerade so you can spy on the King of Tokyo?” Setting down the camera he had been fiddling with, Mitarai leaned back against his desk and raised an eyebrow at Akihito. “Does your step-daddy know about this?”
Akihito clenched his fists at his sides and shook his head slowly. Admitting this was the challenging part, because Mitarai could easily decide not to help him. “No, because he doesn’t want me to do it. He doesn’t think that I can. But I’m going to prove him wrong.” Mitarai cocked his head and stroked his goatee thoughtfully.
“It could be dangerous, kid, I won’t lie to you.”
“I know that! I’ll make it worth the risk.”
“Well, you've got balls, kid; I’ll give you that at least. And it just so happens that you’re in luck. You've heard, I’m sure, that the press is allowed red-carpet coverage, but not inside the venue.” Akihito nodded. He was aware of that, it was a major point of his plan. Mitarai scratched his head and continued, “I’d originally planned to sneak myself in there, but I’d be too easily recognized. You, on the other hand… you’re young blood, a fresh face. Nobody would recognize you as a journalist. You could move around unnoticed. It’s going to cost you though.”
Akihito had expected as much. “How much?”
“Eighty percent cut of whatever you get,” Mitarai grinned, “non-negotiable. But, since I’m a nice guy, I’ll let you put your name on the article, so you can take the credit.” That was completely unreasonable, but Akihito knew that he wasn’t really in any kind of position to barter. Reluctantly, he agreed.
“Are you sure you can get me in though? I don’t even have a suit,” Akihito realized with a frown, “or a mask.”
Mitarai waved his concern away. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You will?”
“Of course! Look, consider me your fairy godmother, kid. You want a way to get in to that party, and I want someone on the inside to take pictures for me. It’s a win-win situation here. Just make sure you don’t get caught, or your father will have my ass, y’hear me?”
Akihito grimaced and nodded. “I hear you.”
“Good. Then meet me tomorrow at the Delta Motel, two blocks over from the Grand Scion. Be there for nine o’clock, and I’ll have all the stuff you need and a way to get you into that Gala. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Akihito managed to keep a serious face until he was out of Mitarai’s office and back on the street, but then his features exploded into a smile a mile wide. His stomach was a mixture of nerves and anticipation, but he could care less. He’d done it! He almost couldn’t believe this was actually going to happen! Tomorrow night he was going to the Gala, and everything was going to change.