AN: Again, whenever I can't finish Prince of Cowardice (PoC) in a week, I'll always prepare something else instead. When I do that, I end up having to spend more extra time on the new story and less time on PoC, which might mean I need to prepare more stories which means more postponing for PoC. Vicious cycle XD
Warning: Self harm
Story is set in Akaya's third year. The rest of the Rikkai regulars have graduated.
"Long time no see, Akaya."
The person whose name was mentioned turned his attention away from the club practice he was observing towards the source. "Yukimura-buchou!" The current captain of Rikkaidai exclaimed estaticly as he promptly abandoned his duty and ran to give his former captain a tight hug.
While in his former captain's embrace, Kirihara caught sight of two other figures following behind Yukimura. "Sanada-fukubuchou! Yanagi-senpai!" He called. Though Kirihara did not hug them and only stood there after he let Yukimura go. His mind told him that hugging any of them would result in an extremely awkward situation.
"We're no longer your captain and vice captain." Sanada scolded. Kirihara scowled back. His former vice captain always found a way to scold him of the tiniest thing in the world. "You're the captain now."
Well, by name only. To Kirihara, they're always his captain and vice captain. He would give an arm and a leg for it to remain that way forever, at least until he was strong enough to snatch the 'strongest' title away from them.
It was such a weird feeling to be seeing the three demons of Rikkaidai once again, especially when they were not clad in the usual yellow uniform. Not that the white shirt and grey trousers they were wearing made their presence any less imposing though. Kirihara voiced this feeling out to them.
Yukimura chuckled. "You're also dressed differently than before." He pointed at the jersey that Kirihara was wearing, fully zipped to the collar.
"Oh this?" Kirihara lifted his arm up to gesture at the long sleeved fabric. "I can't keep my jersey on my shoulder like Yukimura-buchou so I wear it like Yanagi-senpai." He said.
"'I can't understand why you constantly wear your jersey, Yanagi-senpai. It's already hot enough outside, it feels like you're playing tennis with a blanket.' That is the exact words you told me before." Yanagi mimicked Kirihara's manner of speaking. It still sounded convincing despite the monotonous tone it was delivered with.
Kirihara glanced sideways and scratched the bottom of his earlobe. Damn Yanagi and his computer of a brain. "Uh… Since I'm the captain now I kinda want to look, you know, cooler?"
The expression on Yanagi's face was unreadable. Sanada looked like he was going to scold Kirihara again had Yukimura not talked first.
"But Sanada doesn't wear his jersey at all and he's the vice captain. Renji's just the treasurer."
A droplet of sweat trickled from Kirihara's temple, trailing down his cheek. It was clearly not the only droplet for Kirihara's face was evidently glossy under the bright afternoon sun. His unkempt black hair also looked more tame if only because some of the wild strands were wet.
Yanagi decided he had gathered enough evidence. He took a step forward from where Yukimura and Sanada were standing. "I need to speak to Akaya in private for a moment." He informed the other two without looking at them. Kirihara wasn't sure what to take of the situation. He could not read what his senior was thinking especially with those closed lids.
But the tone Yanagi had used was filled with such sense of urgency that all Yukimura said was, "Don't take too long."
Walking behind Kirihara, Yanagi led him to the club's locker room. He gestured Kirihara to enter the room first, then he followed and pushed the door shut using his back.
"Undress."
Kirihara spun on his heel at the curt remark. "What?!"
"Remove your jersey." Yanagi rephrased.
Kirihara gave him an incredulous look. "Why should I?" He drawled.
"You clearly look heated in the jersey."
One hand flung to scratch his ear lobe again. "Uh…well I just have practice match just now. So of course I'll be sweaty." Kirihara reasoned.
Yanagi's expression was calm as usual. "Then remove it to prove that you have nothing to hide underneath."
Kirihara's eyes bulged like a deer in headlights. His gaze flicked left, then right. No way out. The only way was to force it through his senior. Kirihara did not know what had gone through his brain, but at that time it seemed like a good idea to confront his senior in a power competition. He tried to pull the door open while Yanagi kept the door pushed shut. The door did not budge at all.
Frustrated, Kirihara placed another hand on the knob and re-channeled all his energy to pull the door open with a war cry. He had been so focused on trying to escape that he did not anticipate the sudden movement from his senior. His eyes only managed to register a sudden blur of white, and the next thing he knew a hand had gripped his left shoulder and his wrist. Yanagi was standing at his side, holding him in place. Kirihara cried out, not because of the sudden attack, but rather by the painfully tight grip at the wrong place. He should not have, for Yanagi's eyes snapped open at the noise.
There was no use struggling to free himself. Kirihara shut his eyes closed as he felt the long sleeve of his jersey being rolled up his arm to his elbow.
Yanagi was surprisingly silent about what he saw.
Splotches of discoloration the size of a knuckle marred all over his pale skin. Most jarring ones were fresh garish purple and red; The less recent ones had blackened, and a few in the process of healing were hues of green and yellow. Kirihara's arm looked more like a work of art.
Yanagi's fingers that were wrapped around Kirihara's wrist painfully pressed down onto a sizable red bruise. Noticing it, Yanagi quickly let go as if he had been holding hot coal. Kirihara let his arm fell limply beside him with his sleeve rolled halfway up. He could not be bothered to fix it.
The cat's out of the bag now. It was so tempting to dash out the door and pretended none of this had ever happened. The door was just right there next to him. So what if Yanagi know? He was no longer his senior. He couldn't do anything.
Tilting his head slightly to the left, Kirihara glared at the other's eyes that were hidden behind closed lids. Only the faint sound of tennis ball being rallied outside could be heard. Kirihara's shoulder raised up and down rapidly, taking in air in short breaths.
"Self harm." Yanagi began, sounding like a doctor analyzing his patient.
"As if I would do something that stupid!" Kirihara snapped angrily.
"Domestic abuse."
"No…" Kirihara's face scrunched in disgust. The thought of that happening was just horrible.
"Street fight."
Kirihara was quick to agree. "Yeah." His eyes lit up, only for a brief moment for it immediately returned to the hollow darkness. "But I don't hit people, I swear!"
Yanagi opened his eyes and stared back at Kirihara. "It is very common in a street fight to aim for the face as one of the most vulnerable area. Considering the extend of the bruising on your arm, it is expected for your face to suffer the same fate. I would expect to see at least one wound there."
"On top of that," Yanagi continued before Kirihara could defend himself. "This assumption fails when you analyze the angle of the contusions. No form of attack can reach the inner part of your arm. And no, there is no form of defense that exposes those areas to the opponent. The only possible explanation is-"
"Stop." Kirihara's voice was wavering. His eyes fell down to his exposed arm dangling at his side and he closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, he tried to keep his voice from trembling.
"I got it." Kirihara tried to speak with his usual animated tone. It came out very strained. "Look, Yanagi-senpai. It's not self harm. I mean it is, but really it's not. It's- argh!" Kirihara cried out in frustration, his hand came up to yank on his curly strands of hair.
"It's just-" Kirihara glared, his hand still playing roughly with his hair. It's just that I need something to
beat up whenever my devil mode rises. I don't want to do that anymore, so I hit myself instead. That explanation sounded so stupid Kirihara might as well not say it.
"Just leave it, okay? I promise I won't do it again." Kirihara quickly added the last sentence. With luck, that was all Yanagi needed to hear and they could end this conversation now.
"You will." Yanagi's reply was curt.
"How could you say that?" Kirihara gritted his teeth, his hands now clenched on his sides. He knew Yanagi was speaking the truth, but his pride prevented him from accepting it. He spun to face his senior directly. "You may be our data master, but you know nothing about this! Don't talk as if you do!" Kirihara barked, his breath ragged.
Yanagi stared at him with with his closed eyes for several seconds. Just when Kirihara's fuse was about to burst for a second time, Yanagi lifted his left arm with his palm facing up. Kirihara's eyes warily followed as Yanagi neatly rolled the white uniform fabric along his arm and stopped his elbow.
Kirihara's breath was caught in his throat when he saw the familiar color. Black, just like the ones Kirihara had. But there was only one on Yanagi's arm. Kirihara's eyes narrowed accusingly.
"'You probably get that from an accident or something' is what you are going to say." Yanagi deducted preemptively. "No. I gave this to myself, in the same manner as you do." As if to prove his point, Yanagi balled his right hand to a fist and swung it down at where the bruise was, stopping just before it hit. Kirihara was no detective but even he could see that the shape of the bruise matched the way Yanagi angled his fist.
Kirihara's eyes widened. No way his senior was doing this kind of thing! He flicked his gaze at Yanagi. There was nothing in his senior face that could give him a room for doubt. There was just no way in earth that his senior was harming himself. Unlike Kirihara, Yanagi did not have devil mode. So there's no way in earth… "Liar." Kirihara hissed very softly.
Yanagi unclenched his fist and draped it gently over the purple splotch, his thumb rubbing the colored spot tenderly. "Bruises heal, Akaya. You can not tell now, but this arm has suffered such blemishes since the regionals."
A twinge of pain seized Kirihara's heart. Regionals was almost a year ago. That was when they lost. That was when Yanagi lost. Was that why-? But Kirihara had lost too!
"But-!"
Yanagi did not let Kirihara speak. "You had interrupted Genichirou's punishment back then and I appreciate that. However, that did not placate my need to atone for my loss. I had gotten to a point where my hand looked very similar to yours."
Kirihara's mouth was wide open. Images of his senior clad in his jersey flashed in his mind. All this time Yanagi acted like everything was fine while hiding such hideous thing?
"Human's mind is very versatile." Yanagi continued. "Just like how the bruises heal without a trace on your skin, the mind learn to overcome the pain. The next time, it requires more effort to inflict the same amount of intensity. But your body is not as versatile."
Kirihara shook his head, trying in vain to deny something he fully understood about. But Kirihara took pride that he never attempted anything more stupid other than the bruises. "Do you…?" The question would have made no sense to anyone else, except his mind-reading senior.
"Neither I am, or so I thought." Kirihara was afraid of what Yanagi still had in store. Yanagi continued to roll his sleeve above his shoulder right to his shoulder. Kirihara's eyes widened even more if that was possible, no words could escape his gaping mouth.
Right above Yanagi's elbow was a protruding reddish-pink jagged line that sliced diagonally across his upper arm. Definitely a knife wound based on the size. Upon closer look, Kirihara winced upon discovering that Yanagi had sliced the same place twice.
Bruises were one thing, cutting yourself was another thing altogether. Kirihara felt bile rising up to his throat. "That's sick." Kirihara muttered, averting his eyes away.
"Then what are you doing?" Yanagi retorted coldly. "The scar is done after I realize blunt force was no longer effective. What you're doing now is no different than what I have done. You're following my steps. It is a matter of time until you reach this stage. Isn't that 'sick' as well?
Kirihara could feel his blood boiling at the last sentence. Hell if he would fall so low as to do that! Kirihara shut his eyes and bit his lip, both his fists were shaking from being clenched so tightly until the nails embedded to his palm. Curse his senpai for always knowing what to say to provoke him! He had tried so hard to keep it sealed, he was not about to lose it now!
"Answer me, Akaya."
Yanagi just had to push him over the edge. The bloating pressure inside Akaya exploded. He had to unleash this, and there was only one way to prevent him from hurting someone else. In swift movement, he raised his right arm to a fist together and swung it down at his left arm.
He could feel his fist making contact with flesh and hear the sickening crack of bones. Yet he did not feel the pain that should accompany it. Kirihara snapped his now bloodshot eyes open and jerked when he saw Yanagi's bare arm above Kirihara's left arm, blocking his punch. He could hear a soft hiss escaping from Yanagi's lips, causing Kirihara to turn his eyes at him.
"Oh shit! Did I hurt you?" Kirihara asked frantically. No no, he was supposed to contain this thing inside him. He could not go around hitting people again! He-!
In one swift motion, Yanagi's bare arm seized Kirihara's neck and pushed him against the door. The grip was tight enough to constrict but not to block his airway. Kirihara latched both hands on Yanagi's, trying to push the hand away from his neck. His body was shaking as he tried to control the urge to bite his nails into the very vulnerable skin under them, to pound at the hand until it was too weak to keep him up, to spring his feet out right at that person's abdomen… Kirihara bit his lip until a trickle of red dripped down his chin.
"I was mistaken." Yanagi said, his voice was heavy with regret. "It turns out this is something I am responsible for."
Kirihara did not listen to what the other was saying. He could feel his nail digging into the flesh, gradually tearing the stands apart. The pain on his lip grew numb. Everything became numb and swirly and he was slowly losing control-.
"Then unleash it all to me."
Why the hell was Yanagi provoking him! ? Kirihara's body trembled even more. Kirihara jerked his head down. He could feel wet liquid seeping through his fingers. Blood. He should withdraw his hands. But he deserved it! Crush him dry!
"I made you. I can control you."
Stop provoking me!
Blood red took over Kirihara's usual pale skin and his black hair was bleached white. With a glass-scratching howl that threw his head back with a loud snap, he kicked against Yanagi's stomach with enough ferocity to send him crashing against the locker across them with a loud metallic clang.
Kirihara was no longer thinking. He could hear himself cackle. What was so funny? All he could see was red. Not enough red in this room. He did not want to hurt people again. More blood! That person cowering at the corner was not drenched in red. He should not hurt his senior! Drench the person in his own blood!
Yanagi gritted his teeth as he tried to breathe, one hand nursing his abdomen. The other arm was still minutely twitching from the punch earlier, thin trails of crimson seeped through the nail scratches and trickled down his arm. He could hear the overwhelming expression of euphoria from the other male overlapping the ringing in his head.
The devil became closer towards the wounded man with each step, his fingers stretched crookedly at his sides and his crimson eyes glaring at Yanagi like a predator would to its prey.
Yanagi's rib hurt with every breath he took. His heart was thrumming madly. His mind was hazy from the intense pain around his body. Even so, he could make a run for this if he wanted to. He chose to stay.
Don't hurt yourself. You don't deserve it.
"Go on, seaweed head. Crush me." That should eliminate any trace of hesitation left in devil Kirihara, leaving only pure unbridled rage behind. Yanagi smiled through pained countenance, his body instinctively tensed as he braced himself for the following pain that would come.
The devil roared in his cracked voice and flashed Yanagi a mad grin before he pounced on the wounded man. Wild chortling and sound of flesh clashing against the metallic locker punctuated every single bones cracked. Unrestrained blow after blow were dealt by the devil. A sharp cry occasionally slipped past stoic lips.
It's alright if you can't control yourself. I have your leash.
The sound of frantic footstep mixed in the cacophony moments later.
By the time the door was flung open, the deadly symphony had ended.