Sorry that I didn´t update in a long time now. I was busy with my stupid part-time job and other things.
First of all, this is only a try. Of course I´m still working on my other Uraboku fanfic, but this was an idea that didn´t let me go anymore. I don´t know if you´d like this idea, but I thought of an Uraboku from another start.
Here, Hotsuma lives on the street and doesn´t even have an idea of being a member of the Giou Clan. He doesn´t remember Shusei, but Shusei remembers him, but doesn´t know where he is or how to find him.
In case the readers like this idea, I guess I´ll continue it after finishing 'A Story about Best Friends'. If not, I´ll delete it.
Disclaimer: I don´t own Uragiri wa boku no namae wo shitteiru
Sun sets.
It´s getting colder.
Darker.
The people on the streets in the shopping malls are starting to walk faster. They´re reaching into their pockets or handbags to assure themselves that their money is still there. Their movements get desperate.
They don´t know, but they notice.
The people don´t even know what they´re afraid of. But they know they are there. Somewhere in the alleys. Somewhere in Tokyo. Even right by their sides, they just don´t notice. They´re trying so hard to find them that they don´t notice their hungry eyes right next to them. In the shadow of a street lamp. Those staring eyes. The wiry legs. These skinny, skilled fingers, trained to take someone else´s money. They only wait for the right moment.
To carefully slid their hands into pockets and handbags to find the treasure that lays in there. And after that, they run back into their hiding places in the darkness. Sometimes they can still even hear the sounds of the screaming people, who finally notice that their money is gone. And short after that, the shrill police sirens noise through Tokyo, alarming all the others who still wait in the darkness. And like little rats, they´re running. But they´re not afraid of being caught. They know Tokyo better than anyone else.
For them, it´s a joy being chased.
Their only feeling of being alive. Society doesn´t care about them anymore, but at least the police still does.
How ironic. The police, who are supposed to frighten and hunt them, are actually doing them a favor. And there´s nothing they can do about it. They know perfectly how to use people.
...
It´s a night like all the others. He sits between hills of garbage; paper, plastic and leftovers are piling up dangerously high, smelling like a bunch of sods. But he doesn´t care. This is the dirty mirror image of Tokyo. Dark, muddy alleys, which hide perfectly those, who were kicked out of society. The youth rubs a bit of dust from his nose. He wears dark clothes, black baggies and a dark blue sweater. Sure, he doesn´t want to be seen in the darkness, he rather wants to melt into it, becoming a part of it.
He looks skinny. He doesn´t eat much. Certainly not on purpose. On the street, food is rare. He moves a bit and the sound of a grumbling stomach echoes uncomfortable loud in that empty alley. But the sound is drowned out by a buzzing cell phone. He doesn´t look like he was about to answer the cell. But after a minute, he finally reaches into his pocket, pulling out an expensive looking cell. Doubtless he had got it without paying. He flips it open and answers in a very low and husky voice
"Yeah…?"
It seems like he doesn´t use his voice that often. Well, on the streets, someone to talk to is also rare.
"Where are you?" a familiar voice asks.
He rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"When are you coming? You know, today is the day" the voice continues, without waiting for an answer.
"I know…"
"Then hurry up and move your fucking ass to the station, got it? The others are waiting already!"
"…Yeah…"
Then he hangs up and put his cell back into his pocket. After that, he again sits like a corpse, completely without action. It takes a few moments, until he moves again. He stands up and walks away, hands in his pockets, head downcast. He disappears into the darkness. Like always.
...
Maybe ten minutes later, even though time wasn´t important for him, he reaches the train station. This time, he carries a bag over his shoulder. He walks carefully and his old chucks make an odd noise on the ground, like they were still full of mud. And with every step, something inside his bag is hitting together, making a sound like little bells. He looks around and sees a group of maybe twelve youth in a distance of maybe hundred meters. They´re standing between old, discarded goods wagons. He notices a few glowing spots. Seems like a few of those youth were smoking. He approaches and soon, a few of them notice them.
"Finally you´re here" the voice from the cell says angrily.
"When you continue your damn yelling at me, you can do it alone" he snaps back and let his bag crush to the ground and he takes a place in the circle.
"Wanna have a cigarette, too?" someone asks.
"Sure" His mood gets better, when someone gives him the cigarette packet and a lighter. For a few seconds, his face can be seen.
He´s young. Blonde, slightly curly hair. Skin covered with dirt and dust. But his golden eyes glow sarcastically and provoking. He takes the cigarette between his lips and takes a deep pull. Slowly, his ironic grin appears on his face again.
"Glad you ´re helping out again, Renjou. Even though you´re not in the gang…" the guy next to him says.
"Why don´t you join already?" the one from the call asks him.
"I´m ok with the way it´s now…" Renjou answers, but a small smile or rather smirk plays around his lips.
The gang members are youth like him, a few older but most of them are the same age. They are not bad, but somehow, he detests the thought of joining the gang. He doesn´t like the rules they have. He rather lives on his own. But sometimes he joined their small events.
Like tonight.
A new train.
Completely white and inside it's a luxurious as a hotel. It's the fastest train in the area around Tokyo now. Tomorrow there is a large gala planned. The headmaster would be there. Some politicians, too. Rich people. But for a change, they are not interested in their money. They want to play a dirty trick on them. They want to make the train colorful. Really colorful. And of course, Renjou was up to join them. Since it would be great fun.
...
After the last one has thrown his cigarette away, they start to collect all their aerosols. Count together, they have thirty. More than enough. Then they begin to cover their faces with scarves and shawls. Renjou wraps a dark kifaya scarf around his neck. A dark cap and then his hood. They almost look like a group of terrorists.
"Let´s go now" the eldest of the gang orders quietly. They nod and each one picks one or two sprays.
Maybe he has lost his conscience already a long time ago, at least he doesn´t care about the new train at all. They only have a few hours, so the graffiti doesn´t become as good as normally. Actually it looks terrible, and yet, there´s an ironic beauty behind it.
A message.
They are still there.
No, here.
Still in Tokyo.
Right in front of the police.
And yet, they never get caught.
...
Ok, actually, sometimes it happens that someone is caught. But often those are only youth who only got recently on the street and who still have no experience. Naturally there´s no way you can get them out of the police´ hands. All you can do is to watch even more, so there won´t happen the same thing to oneself.
Renjou is completely absorbed into his spraying, when he suddenly hears the sound of police sirens. A grin rushes over his face and he throws his aerosols into his bag. He wears hand gloves, so he wouldn´t hurt himself when he jumps down of the train and lands roughly on the ground.
"Fuck! Run, Renjou!" someone hisses.
He jumps up and runs. His legs are almost flying. He hears laughter a few meters next to him. He can´t help but laugh as well. Like rats they separate, always in groups of two or three. They all disappear in different direction in the darkness. Running through the alleys they know so well. Jumping over garbage and ceilings. His blood rushes through his body. He feels it pulsating through his veins.
He feels alive.
His skin is prickling with fear, excitement and joy.
This is the real life.
...
"Well, what´re we going to do first when we´re there?"
"A mission? I don´t care!"
"Hotsuma, why the hell is your sword so large?" - "How would I know!"
"Oh, c´mon, I didn´t start!"
"How did you find me?"
"We´re friends, right?"
...
He opens his eyes.
Again those memories.
Images from a past life.
He shakes his head, as if the memories were only a bunch of annoying mosquitoes and sits up. He has a large room only for himself. Not only a large room, but also a large bed, desk, bathroom- everything. He looks at his alarm. Time to get up and finish for school. As always, he goes to school without having breakfast. He never has appetite in the morning. He stands up from the soft mattress and goes over to the bathroom, washing himself and after that he dresses himself in his school uniform. He takes his school bag from the chair in front of his desk and leaves his room.
But when he was about to leave through the front door, without even greeting his cohabitants, someone calls him.
"Shusei! You should read this… and please say at least 'Good morning', ok...?"
Shusei sighs and turns around and walks back to the combined living and dining room. A young man with clothes like stolen from a carnival party stands at the long table, a newspaper spread in front of him. This catches his attention. He approaches and greets his cohabitants with a quick 'good morning' and a well trained smile, which unfortunately never really reaches his eyes.
"Read this article. Yesterday, this new train was sprayed with graffiti. No one was caught but the police believe that it was a gang of youth again. Street kids, you know already…"
Shusei doesn´t answer and only pulls the newspaper closer to read the article on the front page. His eyes of the color of dark ambers narrow slightly, while a bad feeling starts to curse through him.
"So…?" the man asks him with raised eyebrows.
Shusei is really well aware of his friends´ eyes on him and waits with his answer. Then he asks calmly "Tachibana, is there any sign that he was one of the youth who did that?"
Tachibana shrugs. "Maybe he was. Who knows?"
"No one knows. Neither the police do nor do I. So please stop asking me".
Tachibana rolls his eyes. He turns around. He is in no mood for talking anymore.
He finally leaves the mansion behind. Only a few weeks until summer vacation. He looks up to the azure blue sky. The sun shines like it was participating in a competition. But somehow, he doesn´t feel warm at all. There is always that cold aura surrounding him. Never once letting warmth through.
...
When Renjou finally reaches his home, he is terrible tired and feels like falling asleep already on the stairs down to the basement where he is living. It´s the basement of an old warehouse which isn´t used anymore. It´s somewhere in a part of Tokyo where no one lives anymore. The high-risers here all look like anytime they´d break down. Of course in that area you can look long time for something like a store or something to eat at all. But he had decided to live here because the water line still works. And here he never gets disturbed.
Renjou takes his sweater, scarf and shoes off and walks over to the old basin. He turns the faucet and cold water runs into his hands. He roughly washes the dirt off his face and hands. Now he feels a bit refreshed and the fatigue overwhelms him anew. He walks over to his 'bed'. Actually it´s only an old mattress with a few blankets and an old pillow that smells after cats. But he can sleep in it and it´s definitely more comfortable than the old bus he had lived in the large wooden boxes behind and next to him his few things are laying. His clothes in a more or less nice condition, a flashlight, the rest of the money he had gotten from his last ramble through Tokyo´s shopping malls.
And a few things that remind him of his old home. Of times when he had still seen smiles on his parents´ faces.
Of times when he still had always gotten a warm meal for lunch.
Of times when he had still gone to school.
But those times had been a long time ago.
He has moved on.
Maybe in a bad direction.
But he doesn´t care.
Since no one else cares anymore.
...
"Shusei… what are you planning to do? Looking for him?" Murasame Touko, an inhabitant of his home, the Tasogarekan or Twilight Mansion, asks him after school, when they are walking home. She was a 2nd year, like him. She was nice, but he doesn´t want to talk about it. It wouldn´t change anything, anyway.
Yet he answers „I don´t know…"
"But this is insane! After all, he is still your p-" but the girl was cut off by a hand on her shoulder. Her one-year-younger brother Tsukumo shakes his head, but his face looks sad. Touko´s shoulders drop.
Shusei knows that they want to help him, but they can´t. He sighs. It is frustrating and maddening that he can´t do anything at all, no matter how much he wants it. But as long as he doesn´t know where he should start searching, it would be completely meaningless. Tokyo has a population of 8 483 050 people. How should he find him?
Where? And how long would it take?
And…
Would he believe him?
So, I hope you enjoyed somehow^^
BTW: I promise, the next chapter of 'A Story about Best Friends' will be up in a few days!
Please review^^