You know, it's starting to hit me.
I should really go back to my earlier stories and fix them up.
This is some of the best stuff I've ever written... and that's pretty damn sad.
Disclaimer: Still f*cking stands. Me and Nomura haven't come to an agreement yet.
Chapter Two: Chance Meeting
The boy stares on straight ahead at the sunset, his dark blue eyes glazed over with pain as he runs a hand through his blood-soaked blonde hair. In the faint orange light of the setting sun, and because of the crimson blood, it looked almost red. Wincing, the boy puts a hand to his bruised right eye. He knew from experience that by the end of the evening, his eye would be swollen almost shut. Biting his already bloodied and bruised lip, he could only think about what he would have to tell "Superior" and his friends within the gang. He would be in so much trouble for this. Damn that Seifer and his band of little "Discipline Committee" losers!
He lets out a soft groan as he puts a hand to his injured side, wincing as he feels the hot sticky blood trickle into his black gloves. The real thing he could do at the moment was to hide his injuries until he could get back to the "Castle" and ask one of the older members to patch him back up. He looks down at the long black cloak he wore, grimacing with a fierce scowl when he notices the large tears that the fight had left in it. He was going to be in so much trouble with Seven and Five... He could only hope that Four or maybe even Eleven were in a good mood, and would keep quiet about the attack.
"I'm so dead." The boy mutters darkly to himself, slurring the words out awkwardly through a mouthful of bloodied teeth. It was a miracle that he hadn't lost any of them. He shakes his head solemnly, reminding himself that he had to report back to Eight, his best friend, and somehow sneak into his apartment without waking his older brother up. Cause Reno was absolutely a pain when it came to their gang. He was constantly on his (and Eight's and Fourteen's) case to quit the gang and come join him in his odd jobs business. Unfortunately for Thirteen, as the boy was known as in their Organization, quitting was not an option. He had to stay with the gang, for both his and Fourteen's sake. It was the whole reason why he had allowed Eight to initiate them both.
Well, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Thirteen gets up, shakes his battered and torn cloak free of the dust that frequently accumulated on the ledge he had been sitting on, and turns to go through the door that would take him out through the station and outside. He hastily throws his hood back up on his head, wincing as the soft fabric comes in contract with the bleeding injuries on his scalp, and proceeds to limp awkwardly through the Clock Tower's station. It was only about a ten minute walk, normally, but today it seemed to take forever.
Walking briskly through the crowd of people trying to get onto their trams before they left, Thirteen elbows his way out to the station map, located very conveniently near the door. He notices a teenage boy standing in front of the map, staring intently at it. Thirteen blinks in mild confusion; judging from the black suit with its many brightly colored bands, this kid was a foreigner. He carefully judges the boy in his strange suit, carefully watching him to see if he was any danger. The boy himself, however, seemed completely out of it: all he was doing was staring at the map and playing idly with a large crown-shaped medallion on a chain around his neck on a chain. After a few minutes, and committing to memory the boy's messy brown spikes and vividly blue eyes as well as the large red suitcase that he had on the floor next to his feet, Thirteen decides that the kid was no threat. In fact, he might even be useful. At least, he might be able to "lend" him some munny to buy an Elixir.
As Thirteen carefully walks towards the brunet, pretending to look at the map of Twilight Town, he slowly inches his hand towards the red and yellow pouch at the boy's waist. The boy sighs lazily, completely unaware of everything around him even as Thirteen was about to pick his pocket. A grim sort of smile appears on Thirteen's face; the oblivious kid was asking for it. There was no way that this kid, if he was even bothering to stay for more than a few weeks in Twilight Town, would survive in his world. Better show him this now. As Thirteen's fingers gently brush against the munny pouch, he's about a second away from slicing the strings connecting it to the boy's belt and running away with his prize in hand. There was only one problem with Thirteen's plan: he hadn't noticed the older boy standing near the pamphlet stands, flipping through a schedule of train times.
"HEY! You little shit, get the fuck away from my little brother! Sora! Behind you, runt!" The older blonde snarls violently, startling both Thirteen and his target. Sora, as the boy must have been called, turns around and stares for a moment at the slightly smaller boy standing near him. For a moment, the two boys stare at each other; Sora's eyes sweep over the many injures on Thirteen's face and Thirteen stares in shock at being caught by his target, an event that never happened before. A very confused look appears on Sora's face before he shoves his hand into his pocket. Thirteen immediately flinches away from him, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation for the knife or the fist that he knew would be striking him at any moment. After a few seconds of feeling nothing, Thirteen's unswollen eye opens cautiously. He lets out a startled gasp as he sees Sora's hand enter his vision, offering a handful of munny units to him.
"Take it. Hurry." The boy whispers hoarsely, as if he wasn't used to actually speaking. Thirteen stares at him for a moment before snatching the munny out of his hand, running away in bewilderment even as the older brother shouts violently at him, threatening to call the police on him and calling him a dirty thief.
He looks back carefully, checking to see if Sora was after him, too. But no, Sora continued just to stand there at the map, staring curiously at him even as Thirteen ran away from him. Very slowly, the boy's right hand rises up and he waves good bye to the boy who had tried to pick his pocket.
A genuine smile appears on the injured blonde's face even as he dodges the many hands grabbing at him and he skids into one of the many hidden tunnels of the city; what a nice kid.