A/N: This took longer than I thought, but I tried to make sure to take the criticism I received into account.
Chapter 1: Tokyo Dropout
Sunday/April 9th, 2017/Hakata Station/Late Night
The train sped off following the exit of its passengers. The station was crowded, not unlike anything he was already used to. From first impressions, Fukuoka didn't seem much different from Tokyo at all. Despite the incredibly large size of the place, it was tightly packed and akin to a labyrinth in nature.
Kazumi was supposed to meet his uncle at platform six, as it was the most convenient for his uncle's coming home. However, the signs pointing him in various directions seldom helped. Because of his incompetence, he ended up surrounded by various familiar restaurant chains that eventually lead back to the lobby. The supposed platform six was nowhere to be found. It was nearly midnight and he was tired, stressed, and lost in a sea of salarymen and women. Finding his dime-a-dozen, middle-aged, exauhsted-yet-well-kept uncle would be like finding a needle in a haystack.
Kazumi plopped himself down on one of the few vacant benches in the area, facing the window of a bar. Unfortunately catching his reflection, he was forced to re-notice his out of place school uniform. It was standard, yet awkward at this time of night. It consisted of a celeste teal blazer, a white dress shirt, a dark purple tie black dress pants, and black dress shoes. The emblem meant to represent Tsukuda Academy sat on the chest and was rather unusual. A stylized black T stood out on a silver embroidered patch reading, est. 2003; it was reminiscent of a certain car logo.
Due to sleeping on various car and train rides, his short dark purple hair was unkempt and scruffy. The surgical mask he wore obscured the lower portion of his face.
Bored, three figures caught his attention. He felt bad for spying on unsuspecting people for entertainment, yet he didn't shy away. They couldn't have been much older than their early twenties, yet they all dressed in highly professional-looking suits with an embroidered patch on the sleeve that gave them each their own number, giving off the impression that they were well qualified for something important.
The trio clumsily paced down the corridor, tripping over themselves and clutching their one sober coworker. They stopped and the young woman, 06, accidentally locked eyes with the teen.
Now that he got a better look at the woman's face, he saw it highly adorned with makeup. Her long black hair was tied into a side ponytail that sat on the right side of her head. She pointed one of her colorful, sharp, fake nail-embellished fingers at him and uttered the words, "Hey, is that a Tsukuda Academy uniform? Man, that really takes me back."
"Ms. Hachiya, I would advise you to refrain from harassing minors when you're intoxicated."03, the sober man muttered, pushing up his glasses. The man's black hair was slicked back, his hairline interrupted by a prominent scar on his forehead. He carried a briefcase in his left hand.
The woman flashed a toothy grin and leaned on his shoulder, "C' mon, don't be such a damn buzzkill! You're just mad that you can't hold jack shit." She groaned.
The second young man scratched the back of his neck and yawned, a loud cackle following close behind, "Learn to lighten up a little. You'll never get a girlfriend if you keep acting like a-" 07, The silver-haired, cocky-looking young man was promptly hit in the abdomen, doing the trick to shut him up.
"We're never going back to Nakasu ever again..." The bespectacled man muttered under his breath.
The woman smiled at Kazumi and examined the pin on his jacket, "Oooh, are you a second year? Have fun in the new semester, kiddo-I remember the composition teacher's a real neckbeard."
Their steady coworker dragged both of them away. Kazumi let out a relieved sigh he didn't know he was holding. It was far too late for that kind of occasion. While waiting, he began thinking about that dream. It was unlike his usual nightmares. Every time someone was trying to find him, and every time he had to get away no matter who it was or what their intentions were. After years of being subjected to the same thing, sleeping became more of a burden than something he could use to simulate dying or 'escaping' as he would rather put it.
Everyone disappeared. He noticed but was too paralyzed by his subconscious to react. Similar to his previous dream, the atmosphere gained a violet hue.
Flap
Flap
Flap
Something inched ever closer. Images of Igor and the woman who accompanied him flashed in his head.
Flap
Flap
Flap
Whatever it was continued to deliberately pursue him. An unfamiliar, almost god-like voice spoke to him, "Thou still has yet to obtain the key to thou soul. It's been too long-"
A jolt of blinding pain shot through him. He grasped his head, beads of sweat forming and falling to the floor. Reality seemingly glitched and then everything was normal. The boy looked up from his palms after being incited by an external force tapping his shoulder. The sounds of people going about their evening were relieving, to say the least. Turning around, he was greeted by none other than Ryota Kurosawa, his uncle.
Ryota cleared his throat, "You wouldn't happen to be Kazumi, would you?"
Kazumi gulped and nodded silently in response.
"You look awful, kid. Let's get you home." Ryota sighed, rubbing his head. His sunglasses obscured his face, but it was easy to see a sense of turmoil in his expressions like it was possible to project eyebags and half-opened eyes underneath. His black hair was short and well-kept and he wore a standard business suit. He was skinny and slightly hunched over, carrying a backpack over his right shoulder. Despite him not looking very old at all, time clearly did quite a number on him.
Saturday/April 8th, 2017/Fukuoka City/Late Night
The rain pattering on the car and the bright multi-colored lights of the city made it exceedingly difficult for Kazumi to doze off. Part of him didn't want to, but his physical makeup insisted on it. Ryota tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he scrolled through radio stations, irritating the teenager further. Eventually, Ryota settled on a station he liked. The newscaster spoke about something related to infrequent disappearances around the city. It piqued Kazumi's interest sure, as it was both intriguing and frightening, but the droning made it nearly unbearable.
Trying to make conversation, his uncle awkwardly attempted to console him, "Moving to a new place must be pretty tough, huh? You'll make friends though." Traffic coming to a halt allowed him to look towards his nephew for a response. When the drowsy teen made no comment, he sighed and kept his eyes on the road, driving forward, "You don't talk much do you? I don't bite y'know-"
"It's ok, I'm used to it." Kazumi shrugged and stared out the window.
"So... do your parents move you two around a lot, or…?" Ryota ceased his tapping awkwardly.
The teen let out a faint grunt stemming from his body's need to preserve energy by not talking and nodded his head slightly.
Sighing he asked, "Speaking of the two of you, how's the small one been doing? Hisako, right? Any better?"
Kazumi choked on air, tugging at his seat belt. His eyes darted around the car's interior, desperate to find a way to escape. His body grew ever hot as sweat seeped its way out of his pores. At any moment, he very well could have combusted until his uncle's hand firmly gripped his shoulder, pulling him back into reality. Taking deep breaths, he merely nodded.
Sunday/April 9th, 2017/Apartment Complex/Late Night
The two sets of footsteps emitted a sound that tore through the hushed neighborhood. Eventually, after a few flights of stairs and long hallways, they appeared in front of Ryota's apartment. A simple sign hanging on the door merely read the date, November 6th, 2016.
Kazumi hardly got a chance to be bored, as Ryota quickly ceased futzing with his keys and let them both inside. After turning on the lights and removing his footwear, the quality of life that Ryota lived was made quite apparent. Unemptied boxes lined the walls and empty beer cans cluttered the coffee table and kitchen counter. What was nice, however, was the fairly large window in the living room, giving a view of the neighborhood from above.
"Your room's upstairs. Stuffs' here already." Ryota yawned as he stumbled over to the sofa.
Sunday/April 9th, 2017/Apartment Complex/Late Night
The room he was given was quite the sight. Kazumi stood alone awkwardly in the middle of it all. The light was already turned on to greet him, as well as a mixture of both dead, alive, and almost dead household insects trapped within the fixture. The hardwood floor lacked any proper carpeting and was instead coated in dust. The desk to his right was chalked to the brim with books veiled by a plastic cover, rendering it useless. A single, flat futon lay out in front of a half-open wooden closet where his duffle bag sat. Once again, the one nice thing he was given was a window that peered into the neighborhood.
Kazumi kneeled down and dug through his bag, taking out a single t-shirt and shorts, as well as an old, worn-out notebook.
After getting dressed and settling down for the night, he opened the notebook and wrote down everything he saw in his dream. Igor, his nameless assistant, the contract, the decor, etc. It was unlike any nightmare he'd ever had. Merely writing the description relaxed him. Within the sea of personal horrors lay something hopeful. Of course, it was just a dream, but everything about it felt real. It gave him a small chunk of hope for a good nights sleep for once.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated if you could!
