Akihito cringed as the baby interco

Akihito cringed as the baby intercom device sprung to life on top of the television console.

"Not again." He mumbled tiredly while glancing at the clock on the wall.

2:45 pm. His visitor would be arriving anytime now.

Akihito had hoped they could have a chat without interruptions, but was beginning to think that that was just wishful thinking on his part.

As the familiar sound of a newborn's shrieks echoed through the office room, the photographer quickly made his way down the corridor of the penthouse towards the bedroom next to his own, grabbing a baby's bottle full of formula milk from the kitchen on the way there.

"Come on, Dai." He said, as soon as he flicked the lights on in the nursery. "I just fed you half an hour ago!"

The sound of his voice alone seemed to be enough to silence the infant, who stopped kicking and shouting in his cradle bed, and remained still awaiting the appearance of the grown-up's familiar face along his still short line of vision.

Akihito walked towards the child, placing the milk bottle on a nearby nightstand. Since leaving the baby sleeping twenty minutes before, the kid had managed to discard his pacifier, had kicked his teddy bear to the bottom of the cradle and created a disarray of the bedsheets and comforter.

The photographer looked down at his son, wanting to feel angry about the situation, but instead just finding himself smiling in return.

"What am I going to do with you, young man?" He asked, picking up his son and cradling him in his arms.

The baby boy's eyes widened greatly, as they always did when looking up at Akihito, as if the former was still studying and committing to memory his new dad's features.

He signaled his approval at being removed from the cradle by kicking his legs and arms rhythmically in the air, a sign Akihito interpreted as him wanting more food.

Sighing, he adjusted his son's weight on one arm and picked up the bottle again, moving towards a rocking chair in the middle of the room, where he sat every time he fed the boy or tried to put him to sleep.

Never one to say no to a good meal, little Dai went straight to work on the bottle, his tiny hands latching on to it as if his very existence depended on the nourishment he was receiving at that time.

As he held the bottle up straight, Akihito's thumb gently caressed the back of his son's hand, while the boy continued to stare intently at his face.

The boy's jet black hair was in a state of disarray again, but it was not like Akihito could normally make any sense out of it anyway. No matter how many times he tried to comb it down, Dai's hair always ended up looking like a disheveled mess.

In that fashion, Dai was very much like Akihito, who had turned 'bed hair' into a fashion statement lately.

As for the boy's remaining physical traits, he was Asami's spitting image through and through: the lean nose, broad forehead, strong jawline; everything about Dai's face screamed 'Asami' expect for his eyes, the only other trait he had inherited from Akihito.

A wave of longing and nostalgia suddenly hit the photographer as he looked down at his son, making him bit his lower lip in an attempt to prevent himself from shedding a treacherous tear.

The young man had promised himself the day his son had been born that he would not cry in front of the boy under any circumstances. He would be strong for both their sakes and for the sake of the daunting task still ahead of him… but still…to remember Asami every time Akihito looked towards their son was not easy on his heart.

The pain and dread he felt over his lover's disappearance was still so overwhelming at times, the young man found it hard to get out of bed some mornings.

Only his pregnancy and the knowledge that he carried a piece of Asami inside of him had kept him sane during the previous months. Now that he had given birth to a healthy baby boy though, Akihito was ready to pursue his carefully laid out plan… he just had to collect one last piece to finish the intricate puzzle that had consumed his mind ever since that dreadful summer night at the Okinawa resort.

Dai's kick against his hand signaled the boy's hunger had been satiated for the time being, and as was common in such occasions, his head was already dropping sleepily against his dad's arm, a clue he was about to slip off to dreamland again.

Akihito rocked the boy silently on the chair for a few minutes, trying to remember any of the lullaby songs his mother used to sing to him as a child, but deciding at the last minute against voicing them out loud. He was no singer after all, and the last thing he wanted then was to cause Dai to go into one of his irritated screaming fits.

Even though he was just a couple of weeks old, his son was already known for his evil tantrums (yet another trait he'd inherited from his yakuza father). And they were indeed so epic that even poor Kirishima had been known to be thrown into despair due to them during the few occasions that he'd offer to babysit the child so that Akihito could work on his secret project.

Quietly, so as not to wake up Dai, Akihito got up from the rocking chair and moved towards the cradle, where he gently placed down the child again, kissing the top of his head.

"Sleep tight, Dai." He whispered, before leaving the nursery and shutting its door softly behind him.

He was crossing the threshold to Asami's old office when the clock on the wall signaled 3 p.m.

While glancing around himself, Akihito was quick to realize the messy state the room was in, and thought for a moment he should tidy it up a bit for his incoming guest's sake, only to quickly decide it was far too late for that.

There were piles of documents and newspaper clippings scattered all over the desk and television console, and an enormous map of southeast Asia, had been put up on one of the walls, small blue and red flags sticking out from it, marking different spots around the Hong Kong provinces.