Title: Toys.
Pairing: Kamijou Touma/Accelerator (Ippou Tsukou).
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The story is mine. The characters aren't.
Summary: He wonders if they would meet again.
[=]
Accelerator had a tendency to break things. Deliberately or unintentionally. That was why he didn't have any toy when he was little.
Nothing stayed with him for long. Everything broke so easily. From the toy car which a researcher brought him to a lost cat that he found while wandering outside the institute one day. The car was broken and the cat was hurt when he tried to use his power to reach it.
It didn't happen just once.
Twice, thrice. The number just rose.
It happened too many times and he didn't bother to count anymore.
The researchers who were in charge of him stopped bringing toys after he had broken so many. It wasn't just the car but there were other things. A cheap teddy bear, a stuffed fox, a puzzle, etc., none was left undamaged.
'Ah, I broke something today' was what he used to say.
It wasn't a habit but a habit was created by something that people do everyday. He broke things everyday too. Even when he grew up, that didn't change.
Instead of saying 'I broke something today', it soon changed into 'Heh, I killed today too'. What a dramatic evolution.
Usually, the victim was another level Five's clones. It happened every fortnight or so. Sometimes he had to kill more than once. The killing served the purpose of making him a level Six. He didn't mind but killing someone over and over again was such a bore. So he decided to be creative. Killing her by wrenching out her heart and watched it stopped beating, cutting off her air pipe, smashing her using a six tons container, draining the blood out from her body, each time he killed her, each time she died a different way.
And he watched it.
He watched as life slipped away from her, as the light in the girl's eyes faded away into nothingness. He watched that girl struggled and died, over and over. At first, he kept track of her serial number. As time passed, it didn't matter anymore.
He would ended up killing her anyway.
It proved his talent in taking life away, breaking things, hurting people and showed that he was no more than the worst type of scum in this city.
He wondered if he had sunken too deep by now.
'Grit your teeth well, Strongest One. My weakest attack... might shake you up a little!'
That was the first time someone ever said that to him. And the moment he saw the approaching fist, something inside him cracked.
On a windless night, August 20th. He was defeated by a boy whose surname was Kamijou.
It was also the first time he got beaten. And it really did hurt. His face was swollen for weeks and his pride was wounded for a long time.
( - now and then when he thought about it, that boy really did give him many first times. - )
Questions ran through his mind. How did that punk do it? Why was he so different from the other low levels that he fought? How could he be defeated? What was he?
Still.
A part of him felt relief.
On a windless night, August 20th, the other boy's fist not only struck his face and brought him down from the position of the strongest but it also smashed something inside of him too.
'If it wasn't for him then I wouldn't have met the brat', he told himself, 'If it hadn't been for him then there wouldn't have been the 'me' today.'
He thought about what happened after he met that boy, that self-declared hero that knocked him down with just his right hand. It it wasn't for Kamijou then he wouldn't have met the light of his life nor found his way back from the darkness that surrounded him. If it wasn't for him then he would still be stuck at one place, struggling for something meaningless.
Sometimes, he caught glimpse of the boy on the street. But he wasn't sure. Sometimes, he left Last Order with Yomikawa just to chase after a spiky head that resembled that boy. He never did find him in the end, much to his dismay. Maybe their paths were meant to not cross each other again. The thought was just disappointing. Kamijou was someone too interesting to not meet again. He piqued his interest greatly.
But.
To be honest, he didn't know what he would say nor how to act even if he was to run into the other boy again.
'Thank you' was something he couldn't bring himself to say. He wasn't so good with words, even if they were simple ones. He blamed it on Amata Kihara for turning him into this kind of boy.
And then again, saying words of gratitude to someone who left his face swollen for week and wounded his pride was kind of weird.
'If we ever meet again, huh?'
Staring at the street, he saw countless faces but none belonged to that person. He remembered someone's saying: The world is small, if you turn your back you don't know who you will meet; but this world is also big, turn your back once more and you may never meet again. He never had someone that he wanted to see again before so he didn't care much about some random quotes' meaning. But now that there was a certain hero who popped up in his life and disappeared without a trace, he couldn't help but thought about the possibilities.
It might be impossible.
It was a pity.
Just when he found someone who wouldn't break, someone who wasn't his toy to play with and to be crushed, that boy disappeared like smoke, leaving him only his family name and a taste of his punch.
Slapping a hand over his head, he felt like a girl with a hopeless crush. The idea alone was absurd and he certainly was no girl. Although his body might be more feminine and slender than most boys his age due to his power, he was a boy and there was his birth certificate to prove that.
Ah, if their roads were not meant to cross again then so be it.
'Touma, Touma, I want to eat ice cream.'
'Right right.'
His eyes widened as he caught sight of a spiky head just across the street, next to a silver hair nun. Dark hair, summer school uniform and that voice.
Unmistakable.
A smirk crossed his face as a thought ran through his mind.
It was just ironic.
How fate worked.
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Sleep deprivation made me write this at 3 in the morning.
