I'll never forget the way it felt to hold Ouka in my arms. The rain poured
around us in torrents, but not even the harsh piercing of it could drown
out the screaming ringing in my ears; ringing in my heart. I could feel
life stirring in her body no more. My admirer.my other half. My sister.
~Brain Damage~
Omi Tsukiyono frowned as he attached his motorcycle helmet to his head. Starting up the engine, he made his way through the streets of Tokyo until he got to the high school. Upon walking in the building, some hope lingered within the recesses of his mind that Ouka Sasaki would come bounding up to him, her cobalt eyes gleaming and clasped in her hands a flower of sorts. Alas, she wasn't there and he felt his heart sink.
There was an announcement played over the intercom, announcing the death of fellow student Ouka. It brought forth upon the school a dismal ambiance, and silence in the hallways, as they were nostalgic about Ouka. Not even Omi's closest schoolmates could help to lift the gloom that had settled in his being.
After leaving school, Omi went straight to the flower shop in which he worked. When he walked through the door, his best friend and older brother figure Ken Hidenka gave him a jovial slap on the shoulder. "Hey, Omittchi.how'd school go?" Omi hung up his school bag in the back room and responded with a low-toned voice. "It was great." Turning around, Omi put on a fake smile and told Ken that he was going out for a little bit for some fresh air. Ken frowned; every fiber in his mind was drenched in worry over the condition of his comrade.
Omi ambled off through the streets, listening to the hectic hum of the city. A car came down the block, blaring a song by Janne Da Arc through its stereo speakers.Lunatic Gate, Omi thought it was. Some girls were playing on the lawn of a small house squished between towering buildings; playing jump rope and singing a little song. A small auburn-haired boy had skinned his knee and was sitting on the sidewalk, bawling senselessly for his mother. The piercing weight on Omi's heart got a lot heavier.
Finally, he reached the seaside on which Ouka was buried. The heavens above were overcast; a perfect accompaniment to my penitence, he thought. Subsequent to his arrival there, he discovered that he wasn't alone. The figures of Reiji Takatori and Persia were standing before Ouka's resting place, bickering heatedly.
Upon the sight of Reiji Takatori, Omi felt sick to his stomach. A burning itch in his palms signified the need he felt within him to place his hands around the older man's neck. Even though Reiji, and Omi felt mortified to admit it, was his very flesh and blood.his father, more to the point.
*******
"Hello? Mr. Takatori? Yeah.we've got your son Mamoru here with us." Interrupting the phone call came the scream of a young boy, his voice broken up with a sorrowful sobbing. "Shut up!" The scarred figure of an angry man slapped the child Mamoru into silence. "Anyways, either you pays us the ransom money, or we'll kill 'em." "I don't care," the voice of Reiji Takatori came harshly from the phone line, and the drone coming forth from the speaker signified the end of the call.
The gang members, all beady-eyed and menacing 4 of them turned around to face the terrified child who was wiping tears away from his cornflower eyes. "Your father's chosen not to pay the ransom," one of them said, taking out a pocketknife. Mamoru backed away into the corner, his eyes wide with fear and his mind racing. As the members approached, each shrouded in a vindictive aura, Mamoru closed his eyes tightly and wondered how long it would take the police to find his battered and profusely bleeding body in the morning.
A middle-aged man stepped out into the hallways, carrying a revolver. One buy one each of the gang members fell, spurting their tainted blood all over the pavement; staining it crimson. The man walked over to the shaking Mamoru and helped him off of the ground. "My name is Persia," he said, introducing himself. He was a tall man with short brown hair and a goatee, gentle and welcoming in appearance. He pushed his sunglasses up his long, slightly crooked nose. "You can work with me.you'll be an assassin. If you chose to deny." His voice cut off, obviously not wanting to tell the boy. Mamoru nodded, his moral fiber stretched to its limits. "Your new name is Omi Tsukiyono, codename Bombay."
*******
As Omi came to his senses, he noticed that Persia and Reiji Takatori were still there. Neither of them had taken notice of his child-like form standing wearily against the brush. He pulled up the goggles he had sitting comfortably on his head; they were falling down over his eyes. He combed through his blonde hair with his fingers before pushing himself even further into the bushes and just listening to their conversation.
"It's no concern of yours, Shuuichi!" Reiji yelled, throwing his hands outward. He was an aged man with an egocentric and bitter soul. "It is, brother. Mamoru didn't hurt Ouka and he wouldn't EVER." Omi was shocked to find out the man that had raised him to be a murderer was his uncle, and resisted the urge to leap forth and present himself; asking why. "I don't care about Mamoru!" "You should, he's your son!" Upon Persia's reply, Reiji snorted callously. "My son? My son?" He started cracking up; like his mind was full of lunacy and his façade presenting sanity had faded away suddenly.
"Shuuichi, he's the son of you and that bitch! I saw it every time I looked at him! I couldn't stand the sight of him! He makes me sick!" Suddenly, attracted by the sound of psychotic hysterics, Schwarz made its presence. Reiji stifled his soul's outpourings and turned his head towards the group of four assassins. Persia took it as his chance to run. Running away from the five of them, he sprinted into a car driven by his assistant Manx and left.
Brad Crawford, the cunning and calculating leader of Schwarz turned towards Reiji. Reiji started screaming at him. His face was contorted into a large, furrowed malicious visage. "You.it was you who killed my Ouka!" he screamed, lunging at Schuldig; a skinny German man with an extensive carrot- colored mane. Schuldig used the hypnotizing capability he was in possession of to confuse Reiji into believing it was Weiß who had stolen the life of his daughter. Farfarello, a psychotic Irishman, licked the blade of his knife. He savored the memory of shooting that young girl dead in Bombay's arms.
Reiji divulged to Crawford new commands in which he was to kill every Weiß member one by one, starting with Omi Tsukiyono. Omi thanked the remorseless God above, who had taken his Ouka so cruelly, that he was blessed with knowing of the plans before they occurred. After Schwartz and Reiji left, Omi came out of the bushes. A wave of confusion swept over him.
Omi wanted to break down crying, yet he felt no emotion at all. Every one of his feelings contradicted another. He was so full of emotion; it left no room for him to think even though he felt incredibly empty inside. Is this all I am? Just somebody to be manipulated both physically and mentally? He didn't know where to go anymore. Ouka had always been there for him.now, he knew she was his cousin, but that didn't matter to him. Whether she saw him as a friend or a lover, he didn't care. He just wanted her back.
He sat down on the cement before Ouka's grave, reading the epitaph miserably. Salty tears clouded his vision, making it hard for him to see in front of him. The silhouettes of his allies were wrought against the street as they stood behind him. They had been standing there the whole time, listened to it all and thought Omi could use a little time alone. Omi started cursing under his breath, something strange for the innocently childish seventeen year old. "I.it's my fault. Ouka came looking after me. God damnit." He sobbed into his open hands.
When he got unsteadily to his feet, he found his friends waiting for him. "Omittchi.we're here for you if you need us, alright?" Ken said. He always empathized with Omi best. Yohji lit up a cigarette, realizing that it was impossible for him not to tease Omi; so he kept his mouth shut. Aya stared at Omi; an uneasy tension had built between them ever since Aya had found out Omi was a Takatori. Aya bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah, what Ken said." They proceeded to walk home in silence.
When Omi got home, the first thing he did was leap on the computer. Opening the laptop, he accessed his documents. Reminiscing what Ken had told him while they were ambling home mutely."Omittchi, if you need some way to release your feelings.try writing. That always helps me." He thought for a little bit before tapping on the keys.
"Negai-goto no subete wa yami ni todomari.Dare mo kimi no owari ni kizukanai," he repeated aloud to himself. All my hopes are absorbed by the darkness.No one's around to notice a nobody die. "How fitting," he said miserably. "Omi," Aya said, pulling the power cord out of his laptop. "I don't ever want to hear you like this." He walked off coldly, but Omi felt a little better. "I'm glad I have such great friends," he said, smiling. "Damn right ya are," Yohji said, looking through a phonebook for the number of one woman or another.
~Brain Damage~
Omi Tsukiyono frowned as he attached his motorcycle helmet to his head. Starting up the engine, he made his way through the streets of Tokyo until he got to the high school. Upon walking in the building, some hope lingered within the recesses of his mind that Ouka Sasaki would come bounding up to him, her cobalt eyes gleaming and clasped in her hands a flower of sorts. Alas, she wasn't there and he felt his heart sink.
There was an announcement played over the intercom, announcing the death of fellow student Ouka. It brought forth upon the school a dismal ambiance, and silence in the hallways, as they were nostalgic about Ouka. Not even Omi's closest schoolmates could help to lift the gloom that had settled in his being.
After leaving school, Omi went straight to the flower shop in which he worked. When he walked through the door, his best friend and older brother figure Ken Hidenka gave him a jovial slap on the shoulder. "Hey, Omittchi.how'd school go?" Omi hung up his school bag in the back room and responded with a low-toned voice. "It was great." Turning around, Omi put on a fake smile and told Ken that he was going out for a little bit for some fresh air. Ken frowned; every fiber in his mind was drenched in worry over the condition of his comrade.
Omi ambled off through the streets, listening to the hectic hum of the city. A car came down the block, blaring a song by Janne Da Arc through its stereo speakers.Lunatic Gate, Omi thought it was. Some girls were playing on the lawn of a small house squished between towering buildings; playing jump rope and singing a little song. A small auburn-haired boy had skinned his knee and was sitting on the sidewalk, bawling senselessly for his mother. The piercing weight on Omi's heart got a lot heavier.
Finally, he reached the seaside on which Ouka was buried. The heavens above were overcast; a perfect accompaniment to my penitence, he thought. Subsequent to his arrival there, he discovered that he wasn't alone. The figures of Reiji Takatori and Persia were standing before Ouka's resting place, bickering heatedly.
Upon the sight of Reiji Takatori, Omi felt sick to his stomach. A burning itch in his palms signified the need he felt within him to place his hands around the older man's neck. Even though Reiji, and Omi felt mortified to admit it, was his very flesh and blood.his father, more to the point.
*******
"Hello? Mr. Takatori? Yeah.we've got your son Mamoru here with us." Interrupting the phone call came the scream of a young boy, his voice broken up with a sorrowful sobbing. "Shut up!" The scarred figure of an angry man slapped the child Mamoru into silence. "Anyways, either you pays us the ransom money, or we'll kill 'em." "I don't care," the voice of Reiji Takatori came harshly from the phone line, and the drone coming forth from the speaker signified the end of the call.
The gang members, all beady-eyed and menacing 4 of them turned around to face the terrified child who was wiping tears away from his cornflower eyes. "Your father's chosen not to pay the ransom," one of them said, taking out a pocketknife. Mamoru backed away into the corner, his eyes wide with fear and his mind racing. As the members approached, each shrouded in a vindictive aura, Mamoru closed his eyes tightly and wondered how long it would take the police to find his battered and profusely bleeding body in the morning.
A middle-aged man stepped out into the hallways, carrying a revolver. One buy one each of the gang members fell, spurting their tainted blood all over the pavement; staining it crimson. The man walked over to the shaking Mamoru and helped him off of the ground. "My name is Persia," he said, introducing himself. He was a tall man with short brown hair and a goatee, gentle and welcoming in appearance. He pushed his sunglasses up his long, slightly crooked nose. "You can work with me.you'll be an assassin. If you chose to deny." His voice cut off, obviously not wanting to tell the boy. Mamoru nodded, his moral fiber stretched to its limits. "Your new name is Omi Tsukiyono, codename Bombay."
*******
As Omi came to his senses, he noticed that Persia and Reiji Takatori were still there. Neither of them had taken notice of his child-like form standing wearily against the brush. He pulled up the goggles he had sitting comfortably on his head; they were falling down over his eyes. He combed through his blonde hair with his fingers before pushing himself even further into the bushes and just listening to their conversation.
"It's no concern of yours, Shuuichi!" Reiji yelled, throwing his hands outward. He was an aged man with an egocentric and bitter soul. "It is, brother. Mamoru didn't hurt Ouka and he wouldn't EVER." Omi was shocked to find out the man that had raised him to be a murderer was his uncle, and resisted the urge to leap forth and present himself; asking why. "I don't care about Mamoru!" "You should, he's your son!" Upon Persia's reply, Reiji snorted callously. "My son? My son?" He started cracking up; like his mind was full of lunacy and his façade presenting sanity had faded away suddenly.
"Shuuichi, he's the son of you and that bitch! I saw it every time I looked at him! I couldn't stand the sight of him! He makes me sick!" Suddenly, attracted by the sound of psychotic hysterics, Schwarz made its presence. Reiji stifled his soul's outpourings and turned his head towards the group of four assassins. Persia took it as his chance to run. Running away from the five of them, he sprinted into a car driven by his assistant Manx and left.
Brad Crawford, the cunning and calculating leader of Schwarz turned towards Reiji. Reiji started screaming at him. His face was contorted into a large, furrowed malicious visage. "You.it was you who killed my Ouka!" he screamed, lunging at Schuldig; a skinny German man with an extensive carrot- colored mane. Schuldig used the hypnotizing capability he was in possession of to confuse Reiji into believing it was Weiß who had stolen the life of his daughter. Farfarello, a psychotic Irishman, licked the blade of his knife. He savored the memory of shooting that young girl dead in Bombay's arms.
Reiji divulged to Crawford new commands in which he was to kill every Weiß member one by one, starting with Omi Tsukiyono. Omi thanked the remorseless God above, who had taken his Ouka so cruelly, that he was blessed with knowing of the plans before they occurred. After Schwartz and Reiji left, Omi came out of the bushes. A wave of confusion swept over him.
Omi wanted to break down crying, yet he felt no emotion at all. Every one of his feelings contradicted another. He was so full of emotion; it left no room for him to think even though he felt incredibly empty inside. Is this all I am? Just somebody to be manipulated both physically and mentally? He didn't know where to go anymore. Ouka had always been there for him.now, he knew she was his cousin, but that didn't matter to him. Whether she saw him as a friend or a lover, he didn't care. He just wanted her back.
He sat down on the cement before Ouka's grave, reading the epitaph miserably. Salty tears clouded his vision, making it hard for him to see in front of him. The silhouettes of his allies were wrought against the street as they stood behind him. They had been standing there the whole time, listened to it all and thought Omi could use a little time alone. Omi started cursing under his breath, something strange for the innocently childish seventeen year old. "I.it's my fault. Ouka came looking after me. God damnit." He sobbed into his open hands.
When he got unsteadily to his feet, he found his friends waiting for him. "Omittchi.we're here for you if you need us, alright?" Ken said. He always empathized with Omi best. Yohji lit up a cigarette, realizing that it was impossible for him not to tease Omi; so he kept his mouth shut. Aya stared at Omi; an uneasy tension had built between them ever since Aya had found out Omi was a Takatori. Aya bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah, what Ken said." They proceeded to walk home in silence.
When Omi got home, the first thing he did was leap on the computer. Opening the laptop, he accessed his documents. Reminiscing what Ken had told him while they were ambling home mutely."Omittchi, if you need some way to release your feelings.try writing. That always helps me." He thought for a little bit before tapping on the keys.
"Negai-goto no subete wa yami ni todomari.Dare mo kimi no owari ni kizukanai," he repeated aloud to himself. All my hopes are absorbed by the darkness.No one's around to notice a nobody die. "How fitting," he said miserably. "Omi," Aya said, pulling the power cord out of his laptop. "I don't ever want to hear you like this." He walked off coldly, but Omi felt a little better. "I'm glad I have such great friends," he said, smiling. "Damn right ya are," Yohji said, looking through a phonebook for the number of one woman or another.