When You're At Rock Bottom...- You can fall and fall and fall as you make mistake after mistake, and become a victim to circumstance and fate; it is only when you are at Rock Bottom that your life stops spinning out of control, because it is impossible for things to get worse...
Ryohei lazily cracked open an eye.
Sitting up, letting the blankets fall down around his waist, the cold instantly hit him, shocking him awake. Jumping out of bed, he ran over to his school uniform, throwing it on as quickly as possible while still making sure it was straight and unwrinkled.
As he tied his tie, he looked around the room, searching. The walls of his room were an odd mix of pearl white and a bright green. In some places, the green was bright and definitely noticeable, and in others you could see nothing but a white sheet of paint. They were also littered with holes of all shapes and sizes, some big enough to fit your head in, others tiny little dots that seemed to be made by a needle. The ceiling was it's natural dark brown, giving the whole room a feeling of oppressiveness, not helped by the lack of furniture; the only furnishings were a bed in the back corner, a four drawer dresser across the room, and a mirror hanging on the wall.
Ryohei's eyebrows shot up as he found what he was looking for, lying on top of his dresser. He picked it up and hung it back on it's peg next to the mirror. Checking the calendar, he quietly swore to himself. Thursday...I hate Thursdays.
Running a hand through his rebellious mop of hair, he thought about why he hated Thursdays, double checking the calendar at the same time.
He swore again, looking at the 'Thursday' column, and the small note at the bottom of that day. FC Championship.
He exited the whitewashed room, a scowl on his face.
Turning left in the small hallways and walking down the stairs, Ryohei grunted as he caught sight of Perfection-chan in the kitchen on his way to the door. She was already in her school uniform, all tidy and neat, cooking breakfast.
Well that's just fucking great.
Turning at the sound of footsteps, Perfection-chan smiled as she stepped out of the kitchen, and into his path. "Hi, Onii-chan!" she called.
Ryohei grunted, walking past her and going to the door.
"Ah, wait!" Perfection-chan called. "Um, I couldn't sleep, so I got up early and made breakfast..."
Ryohei turned and stared at her with a blank expression on his face.
Perfection-chan shifted uncomfortably. "So, um...do you want some-"
"I have to get to school early, to study for a test this afternoon." Ryohei interrupted.
"Oh...well, here, let me fix a bento-" Perfection-chan tried to offer.
"No. I'll just buy some bread." Ryohei waved her off.
"...Okay." Perfection-chan sighed. "Then what're we going to do with all this food?" she asked, not meeting his eyes.
"Throw it out." he said nonchalantly, opening and walking out the door.
"Wha-" Perfection-chan called, but he was already slamming the door shut, a smirk on his face.
He walked down the street as fast as he could without working up a sweat, trying to get to school as quickly as possible.
Not many people were on the streets this early; two hours before school started, and the sun had barely risen, not yet able to be seen above the tops of the houses around him.
Ryohei rounded the corner, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, making sure there was no one waiting to try and spring him. Since curfew hadn't technically been lifted yet, everyone had their houses all shut up, no doubt trying to hide their restlessness as they waited for the all clear, or preparing for school; if you could prove you were a student, then you could be out as soon as the sun rose, as long as you were heading to your school building. And since the sun had risen, the street lights were off, which meant that visibility was low.
Glancing around again, Ryohei made sure no one was following him. After all, just because everyone was supposed to be inside doesn't mean that there weren't prowlers and thieves and all kinds of criminals that didn't survive in the sewers and gutters and alleys of this city.
He passed by a perfect example of this. It was an alleyway where he distinctly saw a girl in a Kokuyo High uniform with dirty blonde hair pressed up against the wall, a middle aged man with stringy white hair and biker clothes pressed up against her, a gun to her forehead as he ran his hand through her purse. From the gleam of his eyes, it wasn't going to stop there. The girl looked over at Ryohei, the mascara on her face running as she cried.
Quickening his pace, Ryohei relaxed his tensed shoulders and allowed himself a small smirk when the alleyway was no longer in sight. He really didn't want to deal with the extra trouble right now of running into someone like that.
Looking ahead, he eyed the primary school a few blocks down. He was halfway to Namimori High.
"Onii-chan!" He heard behind him. Swearing to himself, Ryohei looked over his shoulder and saw Perfection-chan running to catch up with him.
"Onii-chan." Perfection-chan gasped as she slid into place by his side. Ryohei ignored her, looking straight ahead as they crossed the street, reaching the corner of Namimori primary school.
"Did you throw that food out?" Ryohei finally asked, after a few moments of walking.
"Y-yes." Perfection-chan stuttered, trying to reclaim her breath while keeping pace with her older brother.
Ryohei nodded his head, adjusting the bag on his shoulder and saying no more.
Perfection-chan absentmindedly crossed her arms, rubbing her biceps with her thumbs. "Onii-chan?" she asked hesitantly.
"What?" was his gruff reply.
"Um...well, I was wondering if this weekend-"
"I have training with the Ninth." Ryohei interrupted.
"I know, I know!" Perfection-chan assured quickly, waving her arms in front of her for a bit before crossing them again. "But, if you aren't going out of town or anything, after you're done...um, do you wanna go to the river?"
Ryohei snorted. "Why would I do that?"
Perfection-chan opened her mouth for a moment, before closing it. Looking away, she whispered "We haven't been there in a long time, is all...and I'm sure we could find something to do."
Ryohei looked upwards, closing an eye as if thinking. "No." he said, shrugging her shoulders.
Perfection-chan nodded slowly. They continued walking, side by side and a world apart.
"Um...Sasagawa-sempai?"
Ryohei clenched his jaw. As if things couldn't get MORE annoying.
He looked down, out of the corner of his eye, to see the Annoyance rubbing his eyes, bags under them as he straightened his cow printed backpack, coming out of the primary school gates.
"Lambo-kun, how are you?" Perfection-chan asked, bending over.
Lambo the Bovino smiled slightly, looking up at Perfection-chan with hopeful green eyes. His afro was long gone, instead being cut short and falling around his face, making him look much more like his seventeen year old self then the seven year old he had been. The maroon sweater he had on seemed to help him fade into the background, the black jean pants accenting the whole deal.
Looking at Perfection-chan, his smile grew, before he looked down bashfully. "Um...Sasagawa-chan, sempai, I know I'm not supposed to ask, and I know it's not good for me, but I was wondering if you have any grape candy?"
His head snapped up quickly, smile disappearing as he spoke quickly. "It doesn't have to be good candy. In fact, it could really be just the wrapper. Don't think I'm asking for something that would be hard for you to get; if you want it, have it. I just think that, since I've been doing good in school and all, and Maman says that we can't buy anything, so I was thinking if you had anything extra..."
"Sorry, Lambo-kun, but I don't have any grape candy right now." Perfection-chan said sadly.
"Oh...well, that's okay." the Annoyance assured, his voice dripping with disappointment.
"I have to get to school now...bye!" said Perfection-chan, standing up and running after Ryohei, who by now had reached the corner and was beginning to cross the street and be on his way. He didn't want to deal with both of them at the same time. There was only so much one man could put up with.
"Ah, wait!" the Annoyance called out, running after them. Ryohei growled, turning as the younger two came up to his side. This brat obviously wasn't getting the hint.
"I know I'm not supposed to beg, but if you don't have any grape, do you have some choc-" the Annoyance tried to ask.
Ryohei bent low, eyes glaring right into the small orbs of his younger, lightning counterpart, who was suddenly tongue tied and possibly shaking. "Shut. Up." he said slowly, drawing out each syllable. "We. Have. No. Food. You. Aren't. Supposed. To. Ask. So go the hell away and talk with friends your own age."
He stood up. "You do have friends, don't you?"
The Annoyance finally looked away, rubbing the bags under his eyes again.
"Of course you have friends; after all, who wouldn't want to be around someone who can't control their volume and fucks up EVERYTHING they do!" Ryohei growled. Shooting one last glare at the Annoyance, Ryohei turned again.
"I see enough of your ugly mug on the weekends, leave the week days to me." he threw over his shoulders, crossing the street.
The Annoyance choked back a sob. Or maybe it was Perfection-chan. He didn't know.
He didn't really care, either. He was just glad they'd stopped talking.
Sitting alone in the school cafeteria, Ryohei looked over his World History textbook one last time as he tried to memorize the information again.
Because of differing opinions on practice and law, as well as interpretation of the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth, the Catholic church split into two sects; what is now referred to as Eastern Orthodox, which are less strict in their practices and teachings, and Roman Catholic, which relies more on divine church authority and strict custom.
Ryohei snorted. Where have I heard that one before?
He kept reading, furiously writing every piece of information that seemed important down in his notebook. He'd look over that right before class.
He tired to stay focused. Tried to keep his eyes glued to the paper and the rapidly swimming words. But alas, he felt them glaze over. Furiously rubbing them, he looked back at his textbook, concentrating as much as he could, and inadvertently causing his head to pound.
He set his pen down, closing his eyes for a moment to try and ease the ache that was pulsing through his skull. When the pain subsided, he opened his eyes again, opting to look around the room instead of back at his notes.
The walls were a blotchy maroon and beige, with posters adorning them. Posters depicting the Ninth and his guardians in positions of power. To Ryohei's left was an image of Visconti walking out of a patch of darkness, which surrounded, but could not touch, him. Behind Ryohei was an image of the Ninth's Sun Guardian, Nie Brow Jr., finishing climbing the top of a large mountain, sticking a flag with the Vongola's emblem in the summit as figures lay in the shadows around him, broken flags gripped tightly in their ivory, lifeless arms. There were many other's like those, depicting either one or more guardians.
The only time the Ninth himself ever showed up was on a large mural that took up the whole wall leading up to the cafeteria; it showed him sitting on a throne, his guardians forming a half circle behind him, all looking down on you as you went to get food. The Ninth had one hand stretched out invitingly towards you, while the other rested on his cane, which was lying across his lap. Under it, the words "Your job is to lead the next generation. Our job is to guide you." were painted. Every time Ryohei walked to lunch, it was like that hand was reaching out to slap him in the face.
Snorting, Ryohei looked back down at his book, determined to memorize it so he could finish and do something interesting.
"Yo, Sasagawa, what're you doing here?"
But apparently fate had other plans.
Ryohei looked up sharply, sending a glare towards the two people walking towards him. The shorter of the two was wearing Namimori High's school uniform, with the addition of a pair of nice sunglasses to hide his eyes. His light brown hair was sleeked back, showing off his nicely waxed forehead and clean shaven face. The taller of the two was quite the opposite; his uniform was dirty and unkempt, his blonde hair was disheveled and dirty, sticking up almost randomly; and he wore more jewelry then most of the females in the building.
He'd come to this deserted room because no one else was there; meaning he'd be able to get some peaceful studying done without these very people finding him. And if they were searching him out, that could only mean one thing.
"Go away." Ryohei grunted, hunching back over his textbook and notes.
"Now, that isn't very nice." The shorter boy said, sliding into the chair across from Ryohei. "Inkei and I just came here to let you know it's time for your next gig."
Ryohei gripped his pen tightly. "Postpone." he gritted out.
Inkei came to stand behind the first boy, putting his hands on the top of the chair. "Can't happen. This is, after all, the finale. We can't just...postpone."
Ryohei seethed. "Guys, I have work to do!"
The shorter boy nodded. "Yeah, I see that. What is this, ancient history?" the boy took the book. "Psh, never-"
Ryohei lunged across the table, grabbing the book and slamming it down before grabbing the boy's collar, dragging him onto the table.
Inkei stuck his hand inside his jacket; Ryohei heard a faint click.
"It's okay." the shorter boy said, holding up his hand. Inkei stopped, and glared at Ryohei.
The shorter boy looked at him, and Ryohei assumed they were currently locked in a staring contest, but he wasn't sure, as the sunglasses hid his eyes. "Sasagawa," he said, "You have an obligation that you need to fulfill. This is the only way for you to make good money; You know that, I know that, and they know that. This is what you're good at. Not cramming for tests. So get your ass up and be the champ you are."
Plucking himself from Ryohei's grasp, the shorter boy stood up. "It's time to go."
Ryohei looked down at his history textbook. He picked up the front cover...and slammed the whole thing shut, throwing it against the wall behind him. Standing up, he sent a glare towards Inkei, who hadn't moved his hand from inside his jacket.
"The fuck you looking at, prick." Inkei sniffed at him, pulling out his hand and letting it rest at it's side.
"Someone who wants to be 'disappeared' for breaking school law." Ryohei shot back.
Inkei huffed, sneering at him. Ryohei copied the face, but rolled his eyes into the back of his head, making himself look like an idiot. The other boy took it as an insult, and was about to swing for Ryohei's head, when the shorter boy called out to them from the other end of the cafeteria. "Yo, buffoons, it's show time!"
The three of them exited the school building, walking around back to the run down gym. From the front, you could see into it; It was all broken windows and busted doors, with small red posters on them, with the command "DO NOT ENTER - TRESPASSERS WILL BE ARRESTED AND FINED". It was shadowy inside, but from the little that could be seen, it was obvious that the equipment had fallen into disrepair. Weights were broken, cords were snapped, bars bent. Stands were pushed over, things were thrown across the room, almost like some mini tornado had come through and pushed everything over.
But it wasn't the inside of the gym they cared about right now; no, they were heading around it.
Circling the building, they came around to the back. The gym was shaped like a 'T', with a large rectangle being used as both a work out room and display for the equipment, and a smaller, longer rectangle sticking out behind it, used for private training rooms and storage. This formed two 'pockets', two areas where the building could be used as two walls for a room...or an arena.
Which was exactly what the crowd gathered was using it as. Two white lines of tape had been laid, intersecting at the ends, to form a box with two sides of the building, 3 meters by 3. Outside of the box stood two stands, one with a large blackboard behind it, which was divided in half, the names 'Sasagawa' and 'Shirosutchi' lining the top, odds underneath them, and a smaller list of names underneath that, with each name having a number in parenthesis next to it; the other stand had a display case behind it, with a rock, pipe, broken cue stick, blunt katana, and 9mm pistol inside. Each item had a piece of paper taped above it, with a number.
A large crowd of people had gathered around the arena; everyone from small children with a wad of 100 yen notes in their hands to old businessmen with platinum credit cards were present, staring at Ryohei as he strode forward, pushing people out of his way as he stepped into the ring.
"Your fighter isn't one to waste time, is he, Shingo?" Called someone from the crowd as he climbed up in front of the first blackboard.
The shorter kid who Ryohei had dragged across the table shook his head, smiling. "Nope, he isn't. That's what I like about him; he's to the point. The mayor seems to have taught him well."
The kid in front of the blackboard nodded, before pulling out a pot and ladle and banging them together, getting everyone's attention. "Okay folks, it's show time!" he yelled. Unlike most of the other kids his age around there, he wasn't wearing a Namimori High uniform, opting instead for an open, black hoodie, and white pants; his face hidden by a brown ski mask.
"Our contenders are here." he called out. "So it's time to place the bets. Who will win? The champion of the Namimori circuit, the former captain of the boxing club, the young, fresh, abnormally strong Sasagawa Ryyyyyyooooooheiiiiii?" he held a hand out towards the corner farthest away from the building, where Ryohei was sitting in a chair, naked from the waist up, wrapping his fists in bandages. Members of the crowd clapped, but it was largely overshadowed by the boos.
Ryohei didn't care. He was tuning out everything around him, doing a mental check on his body. He hadn't stretched at all that morning, so he wasn't going to be in his top form. He needed to think carefully about what he was going to do. The biting cold on his chest helped accent his perception, helping him catch details he would have normally missed.
The announcer continued on, oblivious to Ryohei's lack of care. "Or will it be the undefeated challenger from the Shinjuku circuit, the former pro wrestler, the muscular, powerful, giant, Shirosutchi Giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzooooooooo?" This time the crowd erupted into cheers, the support palpable. Shirosutchi Gizo stood up from his chair in the corner created by the building, the shadows finally giving way to show him off.
He was easily 200 centimeters tall, and it was well spread out; no part of his body, whether it was his legs or torso or neck, was longer then it should have been. And he was all build. Every muscle in the human body you could possibly see-since he was wearing nothing but a loincloth-was well defined and pulled taught as Shirosutchi stretched. Then Ryohei looked at his face and resisted the urge to hit something right away. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, staring right at him as he smiled wickedly, showing off a set of perfectly white teeth. He had a square jaw, which was odd only because the rest of his shaved head was round.
Ryohei felt disgusted. This...thing in front of him was going to be his opponent? It was all muscle. There was NO WAY he was getting out of this unscathed. His blood started to boil. Just when I was having a bad day, just when I was looking for a bit of quiet, and I get landed with this shithead. All I asked for today was some quiet - THAT'S ALL I FUCKING WANT.
"This is going to be a close fight, folks!" the announcer railed on. "And since it's the championship, the stakes are high! All winning bets go home with five times the amount of cash in their pockets!" He held up five fingers, waving them in front of the faces of those closest to him. "Losing bets go home with fond memories." At the last line, he smiled and brought his arms close, hugging himself and smiling sweetly. A few chuckles rang out, but for the most part people were quiet, tense, waiting for the fight to commence.
Feeling this, the announcer shrugged, dropping the sarcasm. "Of course, it's not just the gamblers that get rewards, oh no; the fighters themselves get prizes." Looking at Ryohei and Shirosutchi, he smiled. "Winner gets 500,000 yen, title of 'Tokyo Champion', a spot in the national fight, and of course..." his smile turned sickly "We have plenty of losers from the women's circuit who I'm sure would love a night with one of you."
Then he waved his hand in dismissal. "Loser, as usual, gets a punishment of the winners choice."
"Punishment?" asked Shirosutchi, speaking for the first time, his voice bubbling out of his over-muscled throat.. "Oh, well that's nice...I have a few different punishments in mind." he licked his lips, staring at Ryohei as he grabbed his crotch. "Ever felt thirty-six centimeters up the butt, boy?"
Ryohei snorted. "No. But it wont matter when you become my bitch!" he glared at the homosexual in front of him, who simply laughed back, his deep voice bouncing off the walls behind him.
He was seeing red. His muscles were tensing. Images flashed through his mind at lightning speed - Perfection-chan stopping him and trying to give him shit food, the Annoyance bothering him on his way to school, meaningless notes for a test he was probably going to fail, his 'agent' Shingo and the bodyguard Inkei, and now this fucking, asswipe of a faggot who DARED to LAUGH AT SASAGAWA RYOHEI!
"Alright...terms have been stated, bets have been placed, so leeeeeeeeets GO!" the announcer yelled, hitting the pot and ladle together again.
Ryohei instantly went into a boxing stance, shuffling forward. Shirosutchi just laughed again, charging forward and throwing a punch toward Ryohei's head. Ryoehi ducked, throwing a straight towards Shirosutchi's chest. It connected, but the only thing that happened was a soft thump and Ryohei feeling a dull pain spike from his knuckles. "You think your puny punches can go through this wall of muscle?" Shirosutchi cackled. Then he grabbed Ryohei by the neck and threw him to the ground.
Pinning Ryohei's arms to the ground with his knees, Shirosutchi punched him in the face once...twice...three times...as he was rearing back for the fourth, Ryohei folded his leg up and pulled it close to his body, slamming the bigger man in the testicles with his knee cap as he did so. Shirosutchi leaned over, gasping in pain, and Ryohei head butted him, pushing him off as he careened to the side. Jumping up, he wasted no time, running over as his opponent was on the ground and delivering a swift kick to his face. After that, he tried stomping on him, but Shirosutchi grabbed his foot as it came down and pulled it close, biting into his Achilles tendon. Ryohei screamed and tried to back up, but Shirosutchi was holding on tightly with both his mouth and hands. Tugging, he brought Ryohei to the ground, where he viciously bit, clawed, and bludgeoned as much of Ryohei has he could. Ryohei, the rage exploding out of control now, responded by elbowing Shirosutchi in the neck a few times, until the other man rolled away, gasping as he got to his knees, holding his neck. Ryohei struggled to stand, pushing himself up as he spit out a large amount of blood, his lower body broken in many places and missing some flesh from his chest. His right leg, the one that was bit, barely supported weight.
But none of that mattered. He was on fire; living his life at its' best. He was growling, his jaw hanging open as he sucked in air and shot it back out. His eyes were stretched to the max, his fists clenched so tight his fingers were white. Nothing mattered anymore except the desire - the need - to erase the thing in front of him from the world.
Shirosutchi wasn't much better off, although he had less physical wounds. His nose was broken, his jaw just a bit left of center, and his breathing was shallow as he rubbed his hurt neck. Ryohei was sure if he'd hit it one more time, he would have crushed the windpipe. Blood dripped from his mouth, and as he spit out some blood too, Ryohei thought he saw some flesh leave his mouth as well.
"Intense! Very intense! This is definitely the fight to see!" Yelled the announcer. "So here you all are, an offer you can't refuse! For a small price, we are willing to throw a weapon into your fighters corner! But be warned: just because it's in their corner doesn't mean the other guy can't pick it up! So, who wants to pay a little coin to see their well placed bet come to fruition?"
A few people went up to the second stall, inspecting the weaponry.
"How much is the rock?" asked a small boy who couldn't even be a middle schooler, pointing at a large, round rock, that could barely fit in someone's hand.
"That rock, kid, is 1,000 yen." the announcer said smiling and leaning over. The boy pulled out the notes from the bundle and handed them over. "For Sasagawa." he said.
The announcer nodded, pulling out a rock from the display case and tossing it over into Ryohei's corner. "One rock for Ryohei!" the announcer called.
Ryohei instantly turned, limping as fast as he could back to his corner. A rock...he'd thank the kid later. A rock is exactly what he wanted. Oh, the ways he could break the thing with it. The bones, the organs, the muscles...
Shirosutchi followed, only he didn't have a damaged leg.
"No you don't!" he yelled, running and tackling Ryohei as the other boy tried to dart for the rock. They both fell to the ground, and Shirosutchi tried to drag Ryohei underneath him as the boxer kicked and kicked. But he only hit hardened muscle, and was losing energy quickly. As Shirosutchi dragged him back, Ryohei stopped struggling, instead waiting...and waiting...The other man was right above him...
Desperately, Ryohei jerked forward with his head, quickly capturing the mans bottom lip between his teeth. He waited only for a moment before biting down, trying to eat through the thin membrane, beating the mans' head with one hand as he did so. Shirosutchi screamed, trying to get away. Ryohei released him, and the other man leaned away just enough for Ryohei to crawl out from underneath him, darting forward and grabbing the rock, jumping up and ignoring the pounding in his ears.
Shirosutchi rose to his feet, rubbing his bottom lip as he flashed as smile towards Ryohei. "You have an amazing sense for foreplay." he commented. Ryohei just stood to his full height, holding the rock up by his head, ready to bash it into Shirosutchi's skull.
Pumping forward, Ryohei charged, swinging with the hand that held the rock. Shirosutchi moved to grab Ryohei's hand, but instead of trying to hit the wrestler, Ryohei suddenly threw down the rock, breaking one of Shirosutchi's toes and taking the opportunity to punch him in the jaw while he was still caught off guard by the fake. He didn't let up, constantly hitting the other man in the jaw or temple, repeatedly bashing his face with his knuckles over and over. Each hit, harder then the last; each reset taking less an less time. Yes, this is what Ryohei wanted - no fighting, no games, no weapons; just the feel of flesh under his fists giving way, the ability to break something, to hurt something, to control something, GOD HOW I LOVE THIS.
An elderly man with gray hair walked to the weapons booth and browsed through the collection for a few moments. "You take credit?" he asked. The announcer nodded. The elderly man handed over a platinum card, and pointed to the iron pole. "Shirosutchi."
The announcer pulled out a handheld machine, with a panel that had multiple lights on it, a groove in the side, and a handle sticking out of the bottom. At the top, it had a blank screen. Pulling out a hidden antenna, the card was swiped through the groove, the account was accessed, and the amount of money needed appeared on the screen.
Smirking, the announcer handed back the card, grabbed the iron pole, and threw it into Shirosutchi's corner...who wasn't faring so well right about then. He was surely missing some teeth, probably couldn't close his mouth from the swelling, and was cross eyed, to boot. However, he heard the clanking of metal behind him as the pole hit his chair, so he ducked Ryohei's punch as best he could and turned, lunging for the bouncing pole. Getting his hands on it, he turned and swung for Ryohei's head, baseball style.
Ryohei, seeing the blow coming, ducked, jumped back, grabbed his rock, and threw it right at Shirosutchi's face. It hit him directly in the left eye, popping it out as he screamed, dropping the pipe and holding his head. The pipe hit the ground and rolled, stopping right at Ryohei's feet, who picked it up and charged.
With a blood curdling yell, Ryohei swung and smashed the pipe into Shirosutchi's head. The wrestler fell over, curling into a ball on the ground. But Ryohei didn't stop there; instead he walked over and hit him in the head again...and again...and again.
Thwack...Thwack, Thwack, Crunch.
"Break." Ryohei muttered through his heavy breathing, swinging for a different section of the wrestlers head. "Break."
"And that's it, folks!" The announcer suddenly yelled, distracting everyone from the carnage. "The winner of the fight...is Sasagawa Ryohei!"
Crunch, Crunch, Splat.
"Yo, Ryohei! I think you've done enough to the guy!" Called out Shingo.
"Break!" The victor yelled.
Splat, Splat, Clank.
Ryohei threw the pole to the ground, turning on his heel and walking away from the body. There was a fair chance he'd killed the guy, but it didn't really matter to him. He'd won, hadn't he?
It was enough. He'd ripped down someone who thought they were invincible, showed them they were mortal, and then made it so they'd never fight again; even if they survived the physical trauma, the emotional damage would never be able to be overcome.
And the adrenaline rush...the endorphins running to his wounds...the pleasure of knowing that he had hurt someone so much, just like the world had hurt him...it was enough.
For this morning.
"If you'll just follow me..." The announcer stretched out an arm, showing Ryohei the path he needed to follow, as the crowd filtered to the inside of the building for their payments, quite a few throwing Ryohei dirty looks.
Ryohei, the announcer, and Shingo went around the building to the other pocket, where ten large poles had been stuck into the ground. Ryohei felt a knot form in his stomach, the rush and sick pleasure draining out of his body, leaving him empty and irritable.
He always hated this part.
Chained to each pole was a girl. A young woman, to be precise. They ranged from thirteen to twenty-one. They were all skimpily clad, trying to accent what assets they had. There was a good variety present, from buxom woman to flat chests; wide to narrow hips; long legs, short legs; black, white, asian; blonde hair, red hair, brown hair...there was even someone with an electric blue mop hiding their face. And from their body language, it was pretty easy to tell who had been here before and who was experiencing being flaunted like a new toy for the first time. About half the girls were shaking, biting back sobs. There were two, the ones at each end, who stared at Ryohei, in all his shirtless, sweaty, bloody glory, and licked their lips. The rest were probably on their second or third round, no longer 'pure' and now accepting of their situation, but at the same time not so low as to try and flaunt themselves.
Ryohei approached one such girl. Normally, he would just look at them, maybe "sample the merchandise" as Shingo called it, then walk off. But this woman...she looked so familiar.
Her black, shaggy hair was about mid neck length, but for some reason was fluffed out so that the ends brushed her chin. Her head was down, hiding her face. She wore a small t-shirt for some heavy metal band that had been shrunk; instead of stretching down to her waist, it barely covered her nipples. It looked like it would be better on someone who was entering primary school then a high school senior. And to top if off, if Ryohei grabbed her torso and shook her up and down once, her breasts would most likely fall out of the shirt and be exposed to the world, since they had no other support. It only got worse with her lower body; which only had a see-through pink pair of panties to cover her. In order to leave something to the imagination, a black piece of tape was placed over the area most men would be interested in.
Not Ryohei though; he was more concerned with her face. He grabbed her chin, slowly lifting her head up till they made eye contact. When his brown eyes met her blue, hers went from a dead acceptance to surprise.
Shit...it is her.
Acting quickly, Ryohei raised up a hand and grabbed one of her mostly exposed breasts, kneading it. As he expected, the slight disturbance knocked both out from under the small shirt. The woman's cheeks burned bright pink as she gasped quietly, probably from a mixture of shame and anger. He lowered his head, about to take her in his mouth, before stopping and looking over his shoulder at the announcer and Shingo.
"Take her down." Ryohei said, backing up and motioning to the chains keeping her arms pinned above her head.
"Um...that's not really allowed..." trailed off the announcer, staring at the woman's exposed, C-cup breasts.
Shingo snorted. "Champ has never taken a woman before." he said, motioning to Ryohei. "Gentlemanly pride or something like that. This is his first time ever; might as well cut him some slack."
The announcer shrugged, tossing a small bag of coins to Ryohei as he walked over. "Payment." he said, unlocking the chains around the woman's wrists and ankles. As soon as she was free, she fell to the ground, only to be slung over Ryohei's shoulder as he took off back home at top speed.
They had arrived back at Ryohei's house within half an hour; he hadn't bothered taking the back roads and just ran down the main streets with a almost naked girl on his shoulder. No one looked twice.
As soon as he walked through the threshold, he ran upstairs and dropped the woman off in Kyoko's room. "There are spare uniforms in the closet." he said, motioning to the closed door. "And look around if you need any undergarments. Take a shower if you want, but be quick; I gotta bandage myself up."
The woman nodded, grabbing all the clothes she needed before heading into the bathroom. While she took a quick shower, Ryohei grabbed a spare uniform for himself, along with some disinfectant and bandages.
After she was done in the bathroom, he went in, took a shower - which was painful, considering all the open wounds - treated and dressed his wounds - also painful, because pure hydrogen peroxide on open bite wounds with saliva in them is never a good combination - then got redressed, trying to fix his hair so he looked presentable as he went back downstairs into the kitchen. The woman was already there, looking in the garbage can.
"Lotta wasted food." she commented. Ryohei nodded, not saying anything.
"Still treating your sister like shit?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she finally looked at him.
"None of your business." he muttered, not looking her in the eye.
"Oh, it's most definitely my business." She said, crossing her arms, raising her voice slightly.
"Why? How does my family affairs have anything to do with you?" Ryohei snapped, quickly falling into their old pattern - something he'd wanted to avoid.
"When you're dealing with my best friend, then it becomes my business!" She snapped back, voice getting slightly higher.
"And tell me, Hana, when exactly did you and Perfection-chan start being friends?" Ryohei demanded.
Kurokawa Hana clenched her jaw, squaring her shoulders as she looked away.
"That's right." Ryohei said. Hana just pushed past him, making a beeline for the door.
"Wait, damn it-" Ryohei reached out, grabbing her wrist, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
Hana looked over her shoulder, then turned and slapped Ryohei. "What do you want me to say? Thanks for showing me off to a bunch of perverts, then dragging my naked body across the most crowded streets in the Namimori housing district?"
"Thanks for saving you from some other raping pervert!" Yelled Ryohei. "You know what they do to the extras, Hana-"
"Stop calling me that!" She screeched. "And yes, I know what happens to the leftovers-I've been with them a few times!"
Ryohei stopped. His gut clenched again. "W-what?" he stuttered.
"Yeah, I've been there before." Hana said, glaring at Ryohei. "And I'm probably going to have to go there again, you know they aren't the type to just let people go. So all you did was flaunt me to the people-nothing more!"
She turned again, trying to leave.
"I said wait, Hana-" Ryohei growled, reaching out for her, trying to stop her from leaving. They had things to work out, they had to make a plan, he couldn't just let her go back out there.
"Shut up, Shut up, Shut UP!" she yelled again.
"Hana, Hana, Hana, Hana, Hana!" he got right in her face and yelled.
She slapped him, and he grabbed both her wrists, slamming her into the wall behind them.
"Still a brute, I see!" she yelled.
"You wanna see a brute! I'll give you a fucking brute!" Ryohei yelled right back, spit flying out of his mouth as his eyes bulged. He brought a knee up and slammed it in between Hana's legs, spreading them, ignoring her yelp of pain. He was too tired for this shit. She needed to stop and listen to him, not keep galavanting around with a chip on her shoulder. Taking both her hands in one grip, he moved his other hand down to her waist, tugging at the top of her skirt.
"What now, Ryohei? You gonna rape me now, huh?" Hana demanded, trying to act tough. But Ryohei could see the slight widening of her eyes; hear the slight increase in pitch in her voice. She was scared.
After a moment, he removed his hand from her waist slowly, letting it fall to his side.
"No..." he whispered, looking away. Hana stared at him for a few moments before sighing. "What the hell?" she whispered. "What happened to you to make you into this...this thing you are now?"
"I grew up!" He yelled, angry at her for referring to him like he was an animal.
"You call this growing up!" she yelled back. "Throwing tantrums when things don't go your way and joining a fight club? You've killed people, Ryohei!"
"Why are you blaming me for it? I'm the fucking victim here!" he demanded.
"If it isn't your fault, then whose is it?" she shot back.
"It's Sawada's!" he yelled.
"Oh, so Sawada forced you to join a fight club and murder?"
"Well he certainly didn't help things!"
"So just because Sawada ran off, it's instantly okay for you to treat everyone like shit and rage about the smallest things?" Hana tried to piece together, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "It all makes perfect sense now!"
"Why are you defending him?" Ryohei asked, voice becoming hoarse from all the yelling.
"I'm not defending him; he was a spineless coward for running off like that! But how come I was the only one in our stupid tenth generation that noticed that? It's your own damn fault for worshipping him!"
Ryohei put his fist through the wall next to her head, going through the drywall all the way to the elbow. They were nose to nose now, unable to look away from each other.
"You have no idea what being around him did to you. It was like everything could be solved if he held his head high and lead the way. Then he turned tail and left, and suddenly that support was GONE! How did you expect me to handle it?" Ryohei seethed.
"Better then you have, obviously." Hana spat, darting out of Ryohei's grip and running through the door, slamming it shut behind her.
Ryohei counted to ten...five times. Finally, he just gave in and destroyed everything around him. Vases, pictures, pots, chairs, tables, even their T.V. met his wrath. He yelled as he did so, screaming at the top of his lungs, replicating the same holes in the walls that were in his room down here; he punched everything he could reach, just trying to break, destroy, do something!
After a good five minutes, he sat down in the middle of his destroyed house and held his head in his hands, ignoring the broken knuckles he sported.
What do I do now? Might as well study for that history test...
Then Ryohei remembered where his notes were...and now, he had ten minutes to get to class before the bell rang. Which lead to another rampage as he broke the remains of what was left before running to school as fast as he could.
"Ahhhh, it's him!"
"Oh my god...that isn't...it is!"
"SQUEEEEEE!"
"R-rokudo-sempai...so cool..."
Mukuro Rokudo strode down the hallways of the highschool, tie only slightly undone, jacket unbuttoned, his hair tied back and down to his mid-back, except for the tuft sticking out of the top of his head, giving it a distinctive pineapple shape.
He smirked at a group of girls as he walked by, waving with the hand that wasn't holding his books. They all blushed and waved back.
Simpletons.
In all honesty, Mukuro loved high school; he had no idea why so many people treated it as the plauge. The girls didn't think twice about who they were around, the boys would do anything to be accepted, and the more people you got doing stupid shit, the easier it became to rope more people into trying new, stupid things. Not that they needed a whole lot of prodding in the first place.
Of course, being as tall as Gokudera Hayato, only not nearly as mistreated, with two piercing blue eyes the color of the sea, and the absence of any body or facial hair really helped things with the girls. And the words 'Mayor' or 'Ninth' would get the males - no matter how old - to flock to his feet.
Oh yes. Mukuro absolutely adored high school.
"R-rokudo-sempai?"
Mukuro looked over his shoulder at a girl. She was in his class, if he remembered correctly. What was her name? Nabidaka?
"N-namisaka Kuroko." she introduced herself.
"Of course, who would forget such a nice face as yours?" asked Mukuro, picking up one of her hands in his own and kissing the knuckles softly, bowing as he did so. "How may I be of service?" he asked.
She blushed, her long auburn hair falling out from behind her ears, framing her face and large bosom.
"Um...well..." she stuttered. "WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?" she asked loudly, bowing. All movement in the hallway stopped, centering around the two caught in the middle of the empty space.
And here...we...go...
"Ah...come here." Mukuro asked, straightening up and bending a finger towards himself. Like a fish caught on a lure, Namisaka slowly walked towards him, until she was right in front of him, chest to chest. He was a head taller then her, so he had to bend down in order to whisper in her ear.
"Though I would normally say yes right away to a woman of your caliber, there is a slight complication." he whispered. "I am already in a relationship, no matter how tenuous it is."
Namisaka snorted slightly. "I heard. What was her name? Ku-ro-mu?"
Mukuro nodded.
"Sounds like an over obsessed fangirl." Namisaka commented.
"She is." agreed Mukuro. "And she's much too clingy; I just don't how much longer I can stand her for. However, I can't just leave her, she may do something...drastic, if you know what I mean." He drew a thumb across his neck, to get his point across. "I have to wait for the right time, and that's going to take a while. So, though this may sound cruel and bastardly...will you wait until then to ask?" he finished, flashing a pained smirk.
Namisaka nodded feverently, blushing. "Of course, Rokudo-sempai!" she whispered.
Mukuro's smirk turned relieved. "Thank you so much for your kindness." he said softly, petting her cheek a bit before backing up and walking away quickly. Namisaka did the same, humming to herself.
Mukuro smirked. That's girl number thirty-four. I'm starting to get a following, it seems.
It was the end of the day, and people were getting ready to leave school and head home to do their homework or go to a part time job. The hallways were slowly but surely being filled with students, crowding around, trying to get out of their classrooms. But of course, a path opened up wherever Mukuro stepped.
Because I'm just that awesome.
He saw the crowd part in a different direction. Must be another senior walking towards him. Thanking his italian heritage one more time for the extra height, Mukuro looked over the crowd's base head level to see a pile of silver unknowingly walking towards him.
Mukuro didn't let the smirk fall from his face. When the group had parted enough, he walked forward, calling out. "Sasagawa-san!"
Sasagawa-san looked up, making eye contact with Mukuro. He rose his eyebrows in greetings.
"How's your sister?" Mukuro asked, falling into step by him.
He growled. "Perfection-chan is still kissing up to him in every way possible, trying to get close to me, as usual."
Mukuro hmmed disappointedly. "It must be horrible to be betrayed like that."
Sasagawa-san growled in a agreement. "What about your people?" he asked.
Mukuro shrugged. "Same old same old. The girls still cling to my every word like it's scripture, but M.M. I think is only doing it for money. Chrome is blind to everything I say, which was nice I guess, until the Ninth set his eyes on her. Chikusa is still apathetic, probably plotting how to overthrow me. And Ken is undoubtedly the most annoying nuisance on the planet; plus I have a sneaking suspicion that he's gay for me."
Sasagawa-san smirked. "You reap what you sow."
Mukuro narrowed his eyes, smirk still on his face. "Oh? And what are you trying to say with that?"
"I'm calling you gay." he clarified plainly.
Mukuro opened his mouth to spit out a comeback, when he heard a noise over the din in the hallway. A faint droning...
"Hahahahahahaha!" Laughed Mukuro. "Oh Sasagawa-san, you really can be so stupid sometimes. Such a witty retort"
"At least my eyes are normal colored." Sasagawa-san sniffed.
"Resulting to name calling are we?" asked Mukuro innocently.
"It's hard not to with you." he retorted.
"Ah, yes, I may look funny, that's true..." Mukuro leaned close, quickly glancing to his side, looking out the window. Students all seemed to be heading away from the main entrance, even those who had to leave through it. "But at least I can keep a temper in line."
Sasagawa-san raised an eyebrow.
"Nice swing with that pipe...champ." Mukuro commented.
He flinched, glaring at Mukuro.
"Honestly, you did win me a lot of money." Mukuro smiled, winking at the boxer. "Ever think about fully selling your soul to the business?"
"Never." Sasagawa-san said vehemently.
"Oh come on! You've seen the perks." Mukuro said, trying to convince him, eyes flicking back to the window. "Think of how it'll help your 'rep'...as a guardian."
Sasagawa-san swung for Mukuro, who backed up into a crowd, laughing. "Have it your way, sun! You should think about my offer; we could make some money! But now I have other places to be, so I bid you, adieu!"
And so saying,with a flourish of his hand and a bow, Mukuro turned and began to speedily walk down the hallway, glaring at anyone who wouldn't get out of his way. Reaching the stairwell at the end of the hall, Mukuro got on the handrails and slid down the stairs, past any students going up or down floors. Reaching the bottom, he went out the service entrance, slamming the door behind him and leaning against the building to catch his breath.
Things are moving too fast. He thought. This wasn't the way Mukuro had planned things out - they weren't supposed to find out for another three hours. He was going to have to get a message to Chikusa, ordering him to move things up.
Straightening up, Mukuro began speed walking around the building. In under a minute, he knew he was going to walk into a minefield; he needed to give off his best aura if he hoped to make this fit into the schedule.
Moving around the school, Mukuro caught sight of the front gate, and the thing that was causing people to stay away from it.
The disciplinary committee stood in a ring, three people thick, jeering at whatever they had surrounded. Their uniforms were buttoned up to the collar, hiding everything but their heads and hands. The badges they all wore had the Kanji for discipline...right under the Vongola Crest.
Straightening his uniform, Mukuro calmly walked forward, pushing past disciplinarians to get to the center of the circle. At first they tried to push him back, but when they saw who he was, they grudgingly let him pass.
Stepping into the center of the circle, Mukuro rose an eyebrow, though he really wasn't surprised. Visconti stood at one end, sunglasses blocking view of his eyes as he stared at the figure lying across from him. Said figure was dirty, disheveled, her white skirt ripped and green sweater missing, wearing nothing but a red cotton t-shirt. Her purple hair had been pulled out of its' folds and bands, and was falling over her face, covering the top right third of her head, much as it did when they first met.
The woman noticed Mukuro was now a part of the inner circle. "Mukuro-sama!" She called out.
Mukuro just waved slightly, before glancing over to the ninth cloud guardian. "Visconti." he said, bowing.
Visconti nodded towards him, shoving his hands into his pockets. "So...we found your bitch, Chrome." he commented.
Said bitch was blubbering, crawling over to Mukuro. "M-mukuro-sama." Chrome called. "Mukuro-sama, please help...HELP! They-they're going to take me, and touch me, and please, please, PLEASE! I-I don't wanna get r-raped." she grabbed onto his pant leg, burying her face in it, sobbing.
Mukuro looked down at her, sighing, before bending over. "Chrome." he said admonishingly. "You can't cling to me on this one. You broke the law; you need to suffer the consequences. That's how society works, and keeps us separate from the animals. You must understand that Chrome." he smiled, leaning over to lightly pat her shoulder.
She stared at him for a moment before hiccuping. "B-but I didn't DO anything!"
Mukuro tilted his head, giving her a sad smile. "They say you did, so you must have."
Chrome shook her head. "D-don't do th-th-this..."
"Sorry Chrome." Mukuro shrugged. "But I just can't be with someone who stands against the Ninth like you do. It goes against my morals."
Chrome stared. She stopped making noise; the tears stopped flowing. She just stared.
"But..." She tried to deny it. "But I love you." Then she grew panicked. "I LOVE YOU! YOU CAN'T...JUST, JUST LEAVE ME!"
Mukuro straightened up to his full height, shrugging again. "I just did."
Chrome lunged for his leg again, but he simply kicked her away. When she hit the ground, she rolled and curled into a ball, crying.
"Was the information I gave you helpful?" Mukuro asked, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Chrome, and her dying eyes. It wasn't his problem anymore.
Visconti nodded. "She was right where you said she'd be. Nice job. The Ninth thanks you for your cooperation."
Mukuro nodded. "It's the least I could do. Anything for our precious mayor, right? I'm a good samaritan."
"You told me...I'd be safe..." muttered Chrome, her amneythest eyes dying to a dull purple, almost black.
Visconti ignored the muttering girl, focusing his attention on Mukuro. "It's good to see you finally working with us instead of against us, Mukuro. I was starting to lose hope, afraid we'd have to rely on THAT for a mist guardian." He motioned to Chrome, who now had her legs pulled up to her chest and was staring at her feet, wide eyed.
"I'd never do that to you." Mukuro reassured the elderly man. "I do have a heart, contrary to popular belief. However, even that needs fuel...and I heard something about a reward for helping to capture her?"
Inside, he was cackling. He was so close to having his plans fulfilled. Chrome being caught in the eyes of the higher up Vongola was a gold mine for him. A perfect excuse to earn their trust. All he needed was a meeting...a moment where everyone was relaxed, where they weren't watching his every move...
Visconti nodded, rubbing out non-existent dust particles from his suit. "Yup. We've already sent the demolitions teams."
Mukuro froze for a millisecond, but his foxy smirk was in full play again in no time, this time with a bit of eyebrow raising to get his point across. "Excuse me?" he asked. Demolition teams were never a good thing. When he'd heard 'reward', he'd expected a thank you from the Ninth, or some cash, a small position in the government...not demolition teams.
"To Kokuyo Land." Visconti clarified, and Mukuro's blood ran cold. "After all, we wouldn't want one of our new partners to be living in such a hell hole, right? So we decided, since you and the rest of your followers would be at school, to surprise you and bulldoze the whole thing when you weren't looking. Then, we'd move you all to one of our living areas, and your training could increase three fold."
At this, Visconti pulled down his sunglasses, fixing Mukuro with dark brown eyes. "That is, of course, if you were all at school. If, for some reason, any of you were inside at the time...well, the first thing they do is seal the exits, you know, to make sure no excess debris go flying at them as they blow the place to pieces. A very bad ending awaits anyone caught in that predicament."
Mukuro's smile was gone, and he could feel a tiny bit of sweat forming on the back of his neck.
"But then again," Visconti continued, "Why would any of your followers be in that old building when they should be at school? Isn't it their duty to attend school, to prepare themselves to lead the next generation of the world? Hasn't the Ninth made it absolutely clear that, under no circumstances, are you to miss school? Seems odd if all of your followers are gone on the same day, and are at the same deserted amusement park, don't you think?"
Now Mukuro was sure that there was a cold sweat on the back of his neck, and was he imagining things or was the world starting to tilt ever so slightly?
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're friends were plotting AGAINST the Ninth." Visconti accused, pushing his sunglasses back up to hide his eyes. "But none of them are smart enough to do that; No, they'd need a ring leader. I wonder who?"
He walked over to Mukuro, who didn't move a hair except to flinch when Visconti patted his shoulder. "Did you honestly think we wouldn't get suspicious when the biggest thorn in our side magically pulls itself out after three years of annoyance? C'mon...you couldn't have been that stupid with your planning."
He hadn't-he had devoted years to planning this. Years! And now it was all going down the drain, just because someone hadn't thought about how obvious it was that they would pull something like this.
No! Mukuro thought. No...this isn't my fault...I had it all planned out...who could've...M.M.? She could be bought...Chikusa would do it just to spite me...and Ken's so stupid, he probably wouldn't know the difference between being manipulated and manipulating...DAMN!
The world wasn't tilting anymore, but now it was spinning, and was spinning faster and faster as each second past.
"What the hell is going on!"
"THE FUCK YOU DOING!"
"Explain to me what has happened here."
Yamamoto, Ryohei, Hibari, and Gokudera had all appeared, pushing their way through the crowd. When they saw Chrome, they all had very different reactions. Yamamoto looked away, pain evident on his face. Ryohei snorted, not sparing her a second glance before glaring at Visconti, who held his gaze. Hibari, in contrast, stared at her intensely, his face unreadable as he cocked his head to the side. Gokudera had paled considerably, a hand covering his mouth as his eyes bulged.
Mukuro was sure he'd be able to put a joke together about that if the world would just stop moving for a moment so he could get his bearings. His head hurt, like he'd eaten one too many Pop-Tarts, and he was sure he was going to puke if things didn't right themselves soon.
"We can talk about the rest of your reward later, Mukuro. I have more important things to deal with right now." Visconti said, looking away from Ryohei and walking towards Yamamoto. Or was it Chrome? Hibari? And what the hell was Byakuran doing, standing right there? Oh wait...Byakuran wasn't a full grown adult yet...it'd been years since he'd been heard from, in fact...
God, why can't things just STOP!
Mukuro couldn't even make out distinct shapes anymore. It was like he was caught on the middle of a spinning platform; shapes were blurring together, as if he was passing them at high speeds. His whole body was covered in a cold sweat, and he resisted the urge to shiver. He was sure he was going to give up and faint any second now.
And meanwhile, Visconti just walked up to Chrome and leaned over her. "Now, you really shouldn't have such a bad opinion of us." he said. "We're actually very nice people. But if this is what we have to do to keep you in line...then this is what we do."
He cupped Chrome's cheek with his left hand. She leaned into the touch, eyes half closed...and devoid of all life. She had given up. And apparently, so had the other guardians. Hibari just stood and watched as Visconti rubbed Chrome's cheek, detached from the whole situation. The jeering and catcalls from the disciplinary committee were getting on Ryohei's nerves, and he was getting ready to hit someone. Yamamoto was looking at his feet, about to cry. And Gokudera seemed to be looking to get away, but the disciplinarians kept him inside the circle. He was quickly panicking. And Mukuro himself...felt like he was a feather-push away from shattering into a million pieces.
If Visconti was pleased with the deadening of the guardians, he didn't show it. Instead he sighed, moving his hand from her cheek to her back as he moved, to get into a better position to pick her up.
Mukuro watched this all with a sudden clarity. It was like the world was letting him see this last sight, of his only scapegoat being taken away, before churning his brain to mush. Which he was ready for; anything that would beat whatever the Ninth had planned for him.
Visconti moved, squatting next to Chrome, who had uncurled out of the fetal position and was now lying flat against the ground, staring at the sky. One of his hands was between her shoulder blades, the other moving under her knees.
He was a second away from lifting her up...
...Before he took a rucsac to the face.
All noise-the jeering, the sobs, the panic, even the cicada-died. Everyone processed what just happened.
Visconti over Chrome.
Rucsac - a rucsac - flying out of nowhere, hitting Visconti directly in the face.
Visconti falls back, blood trailing from his nose and mouth.
...There would be hell to pay.
Visconti quickly stood up from where he had been lying on the ground, holding a hand to his nose. "Bwing 'oeva touw tat hewe, NOW!" he yelled, his sunglasses broken and lying on the ground, multiple cuts around his eyes.
People pivoted in their spot for a second, trying to see if they could spot the odd man out.
"There he is!"
A disciplinarian pointed in a direction to Mukuro's right. He looked over his shoulder, but the world was still spinning, and the mass of bodies wouldn't have been able to let him see anyway.
"Get him!" someone yelled.
Three disciplinarians went forward to restrain him, hands outstretched and faces grim.
Thwack...Smack...Crunch.
Three disciplinarians...three attacks...three sounds of pain...and three bodies.
"...WHAT THE FUCK!" seemed to be the general consensus from the disciplinary committee, who began to back away from the intruder. And they split just right so that everyone, including all of the guardians, could get a good look at who had thrown the rucsac and started all this.
"Wow. Things really went to hell while I was gone, didn't it? And to think, this is supposed to be a vacation spot..."
Time stopped, the world stopped, Mukuro's heart stopped. It was like someone had grabbed the edge of his spinning platform, and the only thing he could do was be thrown from it. So Mukuro fell to his knees and tried his best to breathe, because this was wrong, this was ALL WRONG! This was NOT how things were supposed to go. This was unexpected, this was illogical, this was...this was...this was impossible. Yet there he stood, a smile on his face as he met all their eyes at once, boring into their soles. And suddenly, what the Ninth had planned, what was going on at Kokuyo land, all that had happened-it all took back seat to this one thing, this one...being. And the only thing Mukuro found he could do was follow all the other guardians in trying, one last time, to disprove reality. So they called out to him.
"Sawada Tsunayoshi..."
I woke up monday morning, and haven't slept since (it's currently 4:01 AM, and I'm blaring the band Lifehouse from my commandeered laptop) so it's monday in my book. I made my deadline.
Want some stats? A story of mine is bad if the review:hit ratio is 1:100 or lower. It's okay if the ratio is between that and 1:75, good if it's between 1:75 and 1:50, and really good if it's higher then 1:50.
This story is bouncing around at 1:40.
Thank you, all. Either I did something right, or we're all smoking the same thing right now.
Anyway, I'll probably be responding to reviews through PM's for this story, and only to questions. So, if you're curious about something or are confused, just tell me in your review and I'll answer. If you have specific complaints that you want answered though, drop a review, then message me (mostly because I don't know how badly a bone you might want to pick with me, so you do the honors if that's what you're after.) I promise to be civil and logical (because there is a method to the madness of this story.)
And no, before any of you ask, I'm not a sadistic pervert.
So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, next one will be up by Monday the 29th. Thanks for reading.
EDIT: Added more of Ryohei's thoughts during his fight, added some minor details to Mukuro's section, changed around some dialogue to make things move smoothly. Nothing terribly life changing, but important.