Woohoo, a break from school, finally!
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Why am I writing this two in the morning?
My name is Yoshikage Kira.
I am 33 years old, I used to work at Kame Yu's department store, lived in the northwest sections of Morioh, where all the villas are.
I used to have a life without a doubt in mind, every night I would spend at least ten minutes just to stretch myself out, read some books while playing some music on my stereo, making sure that myself is a hundred percent relaxed that none of my pressures from that day would be left for the tomorrow me to endure.
However, that peaceful, tranquil life is way behind me, it's way back in another realm where the sun of this world won't shine on.
I don't know where I'm heading to. In this tremendously large society, I don't have any place to set foot on. I am not afraid to start everything over again, money is not something that I prioritize on. If I wanted to do those shallow, dirty atrocities that only the worst of the worst convicts would praise of, I am not going to fail at that, but it's something that's against my creed. What I need is an identity, doesn't matter I will be poor, rich, or even just a normal member of society(That would be the best case scenario), I needed an identity that I can claim, something that I can speak out loudly of when people ask me about it.
Much like any foundation members of society, I don't want to attract too much attention to myself. I hate standing out amongst the crowd, I don't want people that are around me to say "Oh, it's that guy" Whenever I walk on the streets. I simply wanted to blend in with the traffic of the crowd without any recognition.
After all that talk, what should I do?
I surely cannot go to the authorities: Not to mention the fact that I will not, since it would get rid of my advantage of being hidden; What would they think about me, a man with extraordinary abilities who came from a whole different realm, with the first thing that I did after my arrival being murdering an innocent woman? I don't think They will manage to find any evidence, but let's just say they did found something that I left off, as a civil society that has technologies this advanced, things such as murder would surely get punished, much like where I came from originally.
Maybe I'll just go through the regular procedure, get my citizenship here like everyone else? No. Guess why? Because Yoshikage Kira doesn't exist in this world. Yoshikage Kira is a man born on Earth, not whatever this planet's called, I had no relations here, no friends, not even a single person that relates to me by blood. I suppose I can try and convince them that I'm a person from another planet, but not to mention the fact that they would most likely to put me in a sanitarium, just how much attention would that bring me? After all, it's still the problem of attention, having too much on me would prevent him from doing what I desire.
Not having an identity is an asset and a liability at the same time. If I don't have a license with my name on it, it means that no way will these people be able to track me down for what I did. I can do anything I want in this world along with my stand ability, and without any information about me in their database means difficulties in finding me. That might be a good thing, but without an identity, I can't do anything any regular member of this society can.
They have the privilege of buying houses, getting a job they want, they won't have to be afraid of the officials trying to catch them whenever they walk on the streets, they can buy a car they want whenever they feel like going on a road trip. Without an identity, those are way out of my reach. Of course, I can steal whatever I need, money, belongings, vehicles, but if I went with that, how will I distinguish myself from a filthy, foul, murdering thief?
I might have done horrific things in the past, but if there's one thing that I know, it's that I'm better than a rotting, shit-for-brains robber. I don't kill people to maintain my luxurious greeds, I do it because it's a part of my need. It's like a diabetes patient with his insulins, it's a crucial part of my life that I cannot get rid off. I am not one of them.
Either way, I will have to find some way to get myself out of this awkward position.
No matter what kind of hardship or trial will I encounter, no matter if I will have to taint my soul with the dirtiest color of red, I will find a way.
I will find that true tranquility, that fractured piece of quietness that's missing from my life.
The kingdom of Vale is one of the four kingdoms on planet Remnant, an important harbor for all kind of business and tourism industries alike. Located in the biggest continent, Sanus, the kingdom consists mostly of coastal cities and a small island named Patch to the west. It's also the most diverse kingdom out of the bunch, a place where people of different species, races can be treated equally, regardless of their race, gender or personality.
Especially Faunas.
Faunas are people, but they're different from our definitions of people: By people, we meant human. A body with a head and four limbs attached, nothing more. But they're different. While having humanoid appearances, they also share properties with animals. Monkeys, cats; wolves, and so on. They're isolated, discriminated from the rest of the human society, but it's getting better. For now. And why is that, we will talk about it in another day.
What you just heard is about half of the information Kira has managed to gather over the past few weeks, the rest being some minor information about an academy situated on an island or something, either way, not important. It's hard already to drag yourself along the streets with all those injuries on him, not to mention the fact that he will have to stay hidden from all lines of sight from people. Perhaps he's just being way too paranoid, but after what happened to him during his past life, he will have to be sure that absolutely no trace of him can be found by anyone. No longer will there be any stand users left to chase after him, but the people in this world is perhaps more capable than he thought. He will have to be very cautious.
While it's easier on paper, it's much harder to do in action. This town, despite being somewhat of a more tourism-focused encampment, the security is surprisingly tight. Not just that there are police officers roaming the streets, armed with all types of futuristic weapons that he had never seen before. One is especially memorizable to him, mostly because it's the first time that he had ever seen one of those weapons in action.
It was during nighttime when we saw it. He was taking refuge in an alleyway nearby, next to some convenience store; he can't exactly remember what it's called, it's something dust till something. Either way, there was this girl with red hair, she wields this giant, crimson scythe, easily defeated a bunch of goons trying to rob the store, with only the head honcho with a bowler hat escaped. It was very intense, almost if he's watching an action movie.
As thrilling as it is, it also means that he will have to be more cautious, because people here as he imagined it, opposes something that's beyond him. It's not stand abilities, nor is it raw power in general, it was something else. It was a kind of ability beyond his knowledge, perhaps a semblance to their inner self. Honestly, he doubts deeply if he'll be able to take on one of them or not, the amount of information he's getting is too limited.
The days in the shadows aren't that great. First of all, his choice of shelters aren't exactly the most comfortable, consisting mostly of small alleyways and sometimes on the roofs, along with the birds. It was cold, hard and nasty, not exactly the definition of a comfortable shelter, but he had no other choice. For his choice of food, he will have to go through the trash, drink from the public fountains, oftentimes straight up puking his stomach out or gets diarrhea for days, living the lifestyle of a damn hobo, embarrassing not just himself, but also his ancestors above, if they were proud of what he did in the past, that is.
None of that was to his own will, he had no choice: He can try and go steal food and money from the stores and the pedestrians, perhaps even get his hands on some...monthly supplies, even. But for every action he commits, there would be a trail of him left. From the smallest details, such as buying a can of soda from the store to completely eradicating a person, it would all constantly leave at least some sort of evidence behind him, that's what indirectly caused his failure in the first place back on Earth. He cannot risk losing it all now that he has got a second chance. He had never pictured himself to be this miserable, everything that he had has fallen into pieces, disintegrated into emptiness.
But all of that will end. Tonight.
He had found himself a more permanent solution. Something that will make sure when he screws up something, it will be his cover. Whenever there's someone trying to lead themselves onto him, it would point them in the wrong direction.
It's risky, but it's going to be the first step on gaining what he had lost back.
Ding-Dong!
Inside this house in the middle of the night, a clear, crispy ring of the doorbell echoed through the front door, through the living room, then the corridor connecting the rooms, to the only two occupants of this excellently built residence.
The residence we're talking about here is located somewhere on the outskirts of Vale, a lonely habitation encased around a forest of emerald, with the bright moonlight shining down on everything below, overlapping the sound of smaller animals running, jumping from one branch to another; the noise of cicada tweeting their praise to such beautiful scenery. About a few miles to the north is the only other artificial human structure nearby, a highway with mirrored streetlights on each side. It's the only road that's big enough to fit in large truck engines and vans, therefore it's one of the busiest roads on planet Remnant, filled with traffic even this late in the night. It takes about a ten-minute drive through the steep, muddy roads to get to the house, where two ordinary people lived here peacefully.
A couple lived here. The Aqua's. They moved in here from Atlas about a year ago, the man of the house, Averlanche Aqua, is a freelance writer that writes for all type of newspaper offices, from Remnant Daily to Mistral News. While not exactly famous, he did manage to earn himself a lot of Lien(It's this planet's currency, in case you don't know). After ten years into his trade, he met her. Emria Aqua.
It was love at first glance. An accidental one at a coffee shop, to be exact. It's like how every female teenager would have expected a romance to lit up, cliched and boring, but that's what happened: Just a pair of sight meeting among the crowd randomly, and they knew they'd have to take action. As if there's a special kind of gravity pulling them together.
Time flew, and here they are now: From the towering condo of Atlas, overseeing the entire continent, to this above average house in the middle of the woods. It was in no way a downgrade, as both of them thought it would be a great idea to clear things up from all the busy people of the crowded City of Atlas, and being actually down on the ground with their boots rather than being in a floating fortress in the sky is much more comforting.
"Honey? Can you go get the door?" A feminine voice went through the bathroom door with translucent glass installed in the middle, vaguely projecting the sceneries inside. The woman who's showering is Emria Aqua, the wife of the household. She's currently enjoying a warm shower after a day spent at the mall with her friends.
That sound traveled all the way into the ears of the man that's sitting on the sofa in the living room, his legs crossed, reading a newspaper with the TV in front of him on, reporting today's news. As the man heard his wife's calling, he put down the newspaper in his hands, his appearances came into sight.
It was a blonde man in his twenties with a neatly combed back hair, wearing a full set of blue pajamas, his deep, blue eyes had a sharp feeling to it as if it's going to see through every fake lie other's have to offer.
"Yeah, right! Coming!"
But for now, those pair of eyes are unalerted, despite how they looked. People always called him an eagle eye for a reason, that vision of his is extremely sharp, not as in he's able to spot mistakes in people's arguments, it's simply what the words meant: He's able to spot minor details that normal people can't and deduct different things from them. Back in the days, it's one of his most famous pick-up gadgets for girls.
It's only been a second since the doorbell rang last, but another one came immediately afterward, it rang at least three more times before Averlanche can even get close to the front door, which infuriates him.
"Jesus, hold your horses, our house ain't flying away!" Just what kind of person would visit this house in the middle of nowhere this late in the night? Surely not insurance salesmen nor any people that he knew, and what's with him ringing that bell like his life depends on it? Does he have a seizure?
The bell is still ringing, and the house husband is already at the door, a bit annoyed. While he can just open the door and tell whoever's outside the door to bugger off already, something told him not to.
It's like one of those cheap horror movies that he'd watch with Emira where the side character lives in a cabin in the woods or something, then some random fuckhead decides to knock on the door, and the protagonist answers without a doubt like a damn idiot and gets brutally murdered.
He always criticized those movies to be cheap, non-original and flat out stupid. You're living a hundred miles away from the rest of humanity, why the hell would you not check who's outside first? No one's gonna bother to see you that late in the night except for god damn bloodthirsty murderers, do you not have any common sense?
Therefore, rather than opening the door straight up like an ignorant idiot, Averlanche bent down his back, peaked through the cat eye on the brown door to identify the stranger outside.
Hmm...
They don't exactly clean the cat eye that often since they don't use it that much. The entire thing is covered in dust, hardly anything can he see except for the color blue, the color of the night skies projecting down on Remnant. They don't even have any lights outside, they did plan on installing one later this month, but for now, there's either the moon or nothing to illuminate anything.
But there was something else that he can see. A vague, grayish silhouette of someone that's about his size, just standing there, quietly, holding an object in his left hand in front of his chest. His right hand is placed on the doorbell, which is still ringing.
"...Who is that?" Out of curiosity and his alarming nature, Averlanche asked. Like mentioned, no one would pay their visit to this middle-of-nowhere house this late in the night, if it's the mailmen, they would put the letters in the mailbox on the front yard rather than knocking on their door; if it's the salesmen, they sure as hell wouldn't come out this late in the night.
"Remnant Express here. Got a package I'm supposed to deliver, can you open the door and sign your signature on the receipt?"
As the person outside received an answer, the ringing stopped.
The voice outside came from another man, surprisingly, his voice is extremely similar to Averlanche's. It's slightly lighter and younger than his, but there's less energy in the man's voice, flat as if he hasn't slept in months. The paranoid man is actually a bit shocked when he first heard it like he's hearing his own clone through the door.
Still, despite the resemblance, it's not going to make him lower his guard. It's more of a protective instinct than being paranoid because he doubts the Express delivery guys are this much into their work.
"What's in the package? Don't recall myself ordering anything lately."
"It's from Amazone. It's perfume and other supplements, I was told to treat it with care since they're highly fragile. Presumably for your loved ones or relatives, sir."
"I see...Emria! Did you order any supplements lately? We've got your package here!" Still a bit unconvinced, the man turned his head around and called out to his wife, confirming this so-called "Order".
"Oh, you mean the stuff I ordered from Cucci a week ago? Yeah, it's probably it! Can you sign it for me?"
While that sure had lowered Averlanche's cautious mind for a bit, he's still a bit wary.
Why the hell would this delivery guy come out this late in the night? Sure, he wished every delivery guy from every company would be this efficient rather than driving their shitty vans at a speed that's slower than a snail's crawl, but this is simply...too good for anything.
"I see. Well, what brand did my wife buy?"
For a minute, the man outside stuttered. As if he didn't expect the man to ask this question.
"...Aves Saint Daurent, sir."
Well, that confirms it.
It's either he's got the wrong address, or he's trying to get in and murder the man's entire family.
"Well, then you've got the wrong place, friend. That's not the same brand as we ordered, why don't you just take it back?"
There was a deadly silence spreading in and out of the house. Beyond the door, there were no movements to be heard, the man outside is just standing there, quietly, menacingly. Same goes for the house husband, but he's in more of a "Get the hell outta here before I call the cops" mood, compared to whatever the "delivery man" has going on outside.
"...Are you sure? The address on it says Mundubat Avenue 1937, yes? There are no other households nearby." After a good minute of nothingness, came the man's flat voice yet again. There aren't many changes in terms of how he's speaking, it's bland and flat as usual.
"Yeah, pal, I'm pretty sure you've got the wrong package. We ordered Halvin Clein, not that whatever brand you just said."
The man outside caught on the lead and decided to pursue it. "Ahem...Actually, sir, I do have another package with Halvin Clein's supplements, directed to your-"
"Oh, fuck off! You don't have our package at all! We ordered neither Aves Saint Daurent nor Halvin Clein, it's Cucci, you damn shit for brains! get your brain-dead ass out of here before I call the cops!" It's a hundred percent certain that this man's either a scammer or a serial murder, leaving a hostile remark, Averlanche went for his scroll in his pockets, trying to call the police.
What kind of idiot is this? If you're gonna fake as a delivery guy, at least make sure you've got the right package, damn it!
"Ah...Wait, hold on, hold on, sir!" The voice outside suddenly became more panicked, with the sound of something dropping on the ground. Maybe it was the package.
"Sir, hold on...please just hear me out before you do anything that will waste both of our times!"
Averlanche's fingers are already on the dial screen, but hearing that man's request, his fingers stopped. He turned his head around to face the door, hearing out the words of the man outside.
"...You can either convince me entirely or simply haul your ass away before I call the cops here to whoop it."
Despite knowing that the man outside is suspicious to the bones, Averlanche still decided to hear him out. Let's see what else does he have to offer.
"Can you go to the windows to the left side of your house? I saw you had one in the living room or something on my way to the front door..."
The husband didn't know what this "delivery guy" wanted him to do. Yeah, he's talking about the giant window in the living room, the one facing the front porch, overseeing the steep hill. What does the man what him to do?
Keeping his guard up, Averlanche walked backward away from the door, his visions laid completely to the front entrance, just in case the man at the front had any funny ideas. Slowly, he managed to find his way back to the living room.
The window is to the right, behind the TV that he's been watching for the past few hours. After he arrived at the living room, he stretched his head out, looking for the source of the voice outside.
Outside is the cleansing moonlight projected by the moon over the mountain in the distance, bordered by a large area of emerald forest. In front of the man's house on the driveway, parks a white delivery van with Remnant Express' logo painted on the side right next to his SUV. It looked nothing out of ordinary, on the passenger's seat lit by a yellowing light sits someone else, there's quite a distance from here, all Averlanche can tell is that it's someone with a cap, sitting straight up. He also tried to get a glimpse of what the man at the door looked like, but shamefully, it was blocked off by the walls.
"Do you see the van down there? That's our van, the person sitting on the passenger's seat is my partner, I'd love to introduce him to you, but our time's running short. Please just open the door and sign on this receipt, please. Even if this is not your package, you can at least sign on the returning box to let us know who asked to return it, it'll only take about a minute."
Seeing that van as evidence does lower his alarming heart by a great amount, but that doesn't explain how he lied multiple times before about their package. If you really are a delivery guy, there's no need on lying about the content you're delivering.
"You do have a point here, but before I come over and open the door, why did you lie about our package?"
Stepping towards the front door with the scroll still in his hands, Averlanche asked. Scammers usually won't spend this much time working on such a detailed disguise, that he can tell, those that do won't usually pick such a remote spot in the middle of the woods. But that still doesn't explain why the man decided to lie about their package.
The delivery guy sighed. "Look, sir, as you can probably tell from my voice, I'm really tired. I've been working day and night just to get some extra Liens on my paycheck, and it's tiring as hell. I knew I've been kind of woozy for the past few days, I've been messing the packages up, I simply just want to deliver them and be done with it, so I had some hiccups and got the wrong brands, you know? Please just finish signing up this receipt, and we'll both be on our ways."
"...Alright then. Step away from the door, I'm coming." Of course, he's still being cautious, but the man outside did convince him that he's here to deliver a package, not trying to rob him of his livers. If he were to do any harm, he's not exactly bad at brawling, punching him in the guts and knocking him out shouldn't be that hard of a deal.
With the chimes of a bell placed above the door handle, the door creaked open. A blow of the chilling night wind blew past the man's face.
What laid in front of Averlanche's eyes is a man that somewhat below his height by a few centimeters, he can't see his appearances, for he is wearing a cap, overshadowing the man's face. A trace of yellow hair is peaking out of the bottom of his red cap with Remnant Express' logo on it, wearing a standardized white uniform(A white shirt and a pair of white jeans). He looked, well...normal.
Not as in "Looked like a friendly face" normal, but "Looked like every person walking on the streets" normal. Everything about this man in front of him is so generic, from the way he stands, his choice of clothing, to even the way he talks. It's definitely not what Averlanche was expecting, he was thinking more of a...creepy guy.
As the house husband came into the man's view, his voice suddenly became more lively.
"Ah! Thank you, sir! Please just sign over here."
There was certain happiness in his speech as if he had finally acquired something that he desperate for. He picked up the clipboard above the package he wrapped around his chests along with a blue pen and passed them to the man answering the door.
He picked up the board and the pen, clicked the top and tried to sign his name on the bottom.
...
But then, he remarked something.
Something here is wrong.
The receipt-It's not his.
The content on the paper shows that it's a 135X150cm painting sent from someone with the last name of Silver to the Vale museum, definitely not a piece of information about him and his loved one can be found anywhere on this piece of receipt.
Averlanche narrowed his eyes and looked up to delivery man in front of him, asking him about the meaning behind this.
But he noticed something else.
On the doorframe to his left-there was something on it.
It's an object placed parallel to his eyes, about a few centimeters away from him. Kind of round, Averlanche can't quite put his hands on what it is at first, but that soon became apparent as he moved his perception onto it.
It was a single button-one that looked exactly like ones that are on the delivery man's shirt, taped to the doorframe.
"Well, sir. Can you be generous and do me a favor?" Before the husband can make any reaction, the man with the cap spoke in an almost comforting tone, relaxed, as if he had just experienced the absolute bliss a man can ever experience at his max. Averlanche is surely confused with everything that's going on, but he still stayed there frozen, listening to the words the men about to speak.
"Just move...a bit to the left."
Thoughts aren't going through properly through the man's mind, there are a lot of questions that he doubts he's going to get answers to. The receipt, that button on the frame, everything and anything right now is confusing him, basically.
For whatever reason, he did as what the man said: Moving a step to the left, a step closer to the button taped on the wall.
"...Ahem..." And he finally snapped out of it. His mouth is about to open and start asking questions, but not before the delivery man spoke first.
"Thank you very much, sir. And with that..."
The delivery man slightly bowed, taking off his cap in the progress, revealing his appearance. It was a man that looked extremely similar to Averlanche, the combed back blonde hair, the sharp, blue eyes, even their noses are about as steep.
And he smiled with his eyes closed.
And something inside the husband's head is blaring the alarm.
"I will finally be able to take a break, for now."
At that moment, the house husband saw something materializing out of the also blonde man standing in front of him. Something humanoid, something pink, maintaining a menacing pose. Though it was very blurry, he can catch a glimpse of what it looked like.
Emotionless, cold, it's gesture stayed idle as a stone.
Voiceless, mute, it's mouth did not twitch one bit.
Its right hand is stretched out in front of the husband's face, almost in a mocking manner, giving him a thumbs up.
Under the cleansing moonlight, it floated above the ominous blonde man that looked just like him, it's a sign: It's a sign of the impending danger that he will soon face.
His body didn't move, for not even the brain had realized what is happening. It's his instincts that screaming at him:
Run.
Get out of there.
This man-he's going to hurt you bad.
And with that, his body tried to move back before his mind can even make an appropriate response.
His heart is already pumping like hell, his pupils narrowed in fear, he knew something is happening, and he needed to take action. Otherwise, he'd face something extremely wicked.
But it was all too late.
Click.
Boom!
To the left of his temple, Averlanche felt a stream of warmth. Like a campfire in the middle of a snowfield, the molten pit of iron in a refinery, all that warmth combined, currently flowing through his temple, into his face.
Just what did that man do? Did he place a god damn bomb under that button, or was that button a bomb itself?
A lot of thought flew through Averlanche's mind all within a second, but they won't go anywhere. With the button on his left emitted large, glowing energy, he felt a rush of a warm stream of liquid flowing up to his face, out of every single hole on his face: His nose, his mouth, his ears, even between the cracks between his eye socket and his eyeballs. At the meantime, something in his head snapped. He's not sure what it is, but it was something important, something that helped him up, something to keep his body connecting to that brain of his.
With a loud thud, the husband's body collapsed, his eyes rolled up with bloodshot, his nose also going through the same process, and crashed right shoulder first into the doorframe, sliding down like a doll with its strings cut, finally landing on the ground, facing forward.
He tried his best to scream. Not out of horror, but to alert his loved one about the presence of this invader: He had something that they cannot understand, in no way can they fight back against this horrific person, not without him. But his throat simply felt like they had no strength as if he just went through a tough rap battle.
With his remaining vigor, he's able to see one last thing: in the distance behind the man, the passenger's door on the delivery van slowly opened, presenting what he thought was this attacker's ally. But it was someone else.
Rather than a man getting down from the seat, as the door opened, something tumbled down and hit the ground.
And that something is the last thing that Averlanche remembered before his vision and his mind went into total darkness:
It was the body of a man, wearing a similar outfit as the man standing in front of him, already avoid any sign of life.
Right, I'm gonna split this arc into a few parts, since I've been busy with something else.
This fic really is getting more popular than I originally thought, there's a chunk of you all watching. Huge appreciations. Also, please let me know your thoughts on this in the reviews, and constructive criticism is helpful to my skills and this fic.
By the way, Kira's not turning into a good guy, I give you that much of a spoiler. That just how he is: That nature of his is going to keep his murderous rampage going, and nothing except death will stop it.
I should be able to wrap this part up in the next few weeks or so. Be seeing y'all then.