Chapter Three
The polished oak of the library doors softened the thud as the broad planks buckled together. By the time the internal latch clicked Ryu was already darting past curious gathering students at the other end of the hall; a cluster of girls skipped timely out of his furious path with Lance perusing closely from the rear. A few of the spectators turned to watch their unusual chase while most kept their visions fixed to the bleached grate canvas that was the southern hall windows. There was no ulterior route, it was either pass through the upper floors or else be caught within the congestion of gibbering teenagers who were so eager to take a glint of amusement from the immediate misery.
I can't believe this is happening; the timing is just too terrifying.
Ryu managed to shuffle his way past those trailing in stampedes down the stairway, he gripped onto the railing as he made a slow progression past his colleagues - there were so many, what exactly had happened to cause such a secluded little riot? Once or twice he could have sworn he felt Lance clutch onto his blazer from behind, but it was of little concern to him now. As he came off the stairs at the height the panting youth confronted an excessive gathering waiting for him on the landing. The doors directly ahead probably wouldn't even open if he tried, the plated glass showed nothing but hair and hands as people bustled to the fogged out windows. It was ridiculous; something like this would just have to happen once classes were out.
There was his final option, closed off to all obedient students and trapped behind dated old doors scrapped with paint marks and rusted out edges, the south point of the western hallway that stretched across the opposite side of the building. Nobody ever tried making a short-cut through here, nobody other than himself than he knew of- it just wasn't the done thing in this university. For good reason, he had to admit to himself. However in this case it proved an accessible route, and considering the windows faced out to the west there would be no students with even half a brain trying to catch a glimpse at the commotion, unless they wished to see a barrage of trees, that is. Disregarding the view this was clearly the only option left, as much as Ryu hated being spotted taking this route, he was left with little choice, though above all it should have been taboo to him. This was not lost to Lance, who slowed his perusing pace as he watched Kuro study the door. Without a second notion the fair haired boy stormed the rustic entrance, wrenching the handle and storming his path through the deserted walkway into the unlit halls. Clearly Ryu had his logic, the paths below and beyond were jammed with the mindless chatter of the crowds; clearly the incident had occurred close to this side of the building. The door clattered to a close and for a moment the bright eyed young man could have sworn he heard the bolt snap, thankfully however he found the door had not jammed shut as he nudged it back open. Ryu was well progressed down the hall by this time, round the corner, he could hear his hurried footsteps slow. Was he waiting for him? Or was it something else…
"Hey, Kuro!" Lance's echo bounced across the walls, muffled only by the chatter of the noises past his shoulder matched with the distant rustle of the outside tree fields. "God damn it man…" As Lance stepped into the dank halls and the paint chipped door came to rest behind him the murk quickly took hold, his dull green to brown hair became an instant black, his shirt became grey and the footsteps further on came to a halt.
She was nine years old…apparently her birthday was a week previous the incident…
Keeping a steady pace Lance progressed down the halls, almost tripping on a loose stacking of paint brushes that had been recently disturbed. Apparently they had been meaning to paint over this place, rebuild, whitewash, and forget it completely.
"Hey Ryu, you still there?" There was no response. The wild green outside those broad windows covered whatever minimal winter light there would have been, even still with the storm taking hold over the university ground as it had; there was no real light to speak of inside or out. The clouds seemed to loom closer to the windows than they should, held down by the weight of torrential rain that gave the desolate little hall a creepy harmony, the sound of hailing rainfall, to drown out all other presence.
"Last place I'd expect you to go…" Lance spoke up, he'd accepted that Kuro was at least close by, and there had been no clang of a heavy door or thud of a smaller one at the sides of the rigid hall. As he approached that harsh turn that warped the path to face the east Lance's pale green eyes ran across what seemed like a trail of blood. Not fresh, sealed into the solid floor and dried, peaking out from around that corner.
We've identified the perpetrators…one is still shaken…the other has…
Lance placed his hand on that corner, it felt hot, and why would a stone wall in such a dingy and abandoned corridor in the middle of winter hold such heat? The roll of thunder passed over them; even the solid ground underfoot seemed to quiver, as the young man in the grip of shadows placed his leather foot and turned the corner to a sight. The long hallway, just has it had always been since, as desolate and roughly painted over as it had always been. No more than some half dozen paces in, standing silent as ghosts, figures illuminated by nothing but the occasional bright flash from the broad windows behind Lance, when the lightning began he did not notice, he was caught by the broad gentle eyes of a young girl. She stood facing him, a pretty white dress and long raven hair to her waist, staring captivated through angelic green eyes. She made no motion but to watch, the rainfall behind Lance drummed as another carpet of thunder pushed down the halls. Another flash, so brilliant that the stunned young man caught every detail, every silent feature- standing before this young girl, facing away from Lance and looking only to her, Ryu Kuro stood much like a statue, his eyes fixated, his clothes mangled and torn in places, his face flushed and bruised, he held something in his hand which was blackened with soot, and his clothing and skin roughly singed as he stared on in absolute horror.
With an anti-climactic jerk Ryu found himself lost in a confused haze, gripping his covers with tense white-knuckled fingers. His breath was steep, his eyes were unfocused, but slowly the realisation was coming back to him- Merely a dream, a nightmare, nothing to become concerned about.
What was done was done.
Yet it had happened, the dreams disconnected themselves from reality at such a fractured pace that Ryu almost hadn't realised the background truth in his sleep. The hall, Lance, the incident that had claimed the life of his step-brother, it was all true. Throwing the covers aside the flushed faced man as forced to gain his bearings as he stood, the fog before his eyes steadily clearing as his cream toned hair toppled down across his face and in the odd bed-made angles of typical rough night hair. Once his footing was secured young Kuro crossed the midnight blue carpet to the fine polished desk lying on the side of the room opposite the bed, its carmine red material taking on the deep tone like dried blood across his mattress as he rose, placing a hand on the surface of the light coloured desk. His fine blue eyes had not suited to the darkness, but he knew where everything was. Pulling on a slight cord near his closed laptop Kuro recoiled slightly as the movable desk lamp glared with the usual unexpected force to his sensitive pupils.
The light brought the entirety of the room to view; it wasn't that grand in size, but seemed bounteous enough for a young lad of eighteen, and held the necessities of a university student. A laptop computer for his work, a book shelf for his reading and research, an unorganised desk scattered with notes, papers and pens- and a rather large HD TV, recently received as a birthday present (he made note of the sentimental value of the gift) which was useful for slacking off when he should be studying. The floor wasn't exactly clear either, there was plenty of space no doubt, but most of this space was coated in discarded clothing or paperwork. Kuro himself was rendered in an equally unbecoming position at this moment, standing partially blinded in his long grey boxer shorts. Not the most pride filled moment in his young life. Once the white haze had melted back into recognisable shapes Ryu forced back a protruding clump of hair that was shadowed on his taupe bedroom walls, stroking it aside as he craned his sore neck down, dilated baby-blue eyes scanned the contents across the simple household desk.
The usual assortment of things, not necessarily in their correct order, but he at least knew where everything was. Ryu was not the tidiest teenager in the land, but that was not to say he was disorganised. Knocking aside the collaboration of papers and small notebooks he unearthed his long leather briefcase. It was an old styled model, instead of latches- or God forbid a password lock- it was protected with a few buckles. Sliding off the leather strips through the buckles the drowsy young man slid a hand inside the compartment, examining its contents with one hand. Whatever hour it was far too early for him, sleep was essential for both survival and beauty, which was one of Kuro's many separate philosophies. Turning his head aside Ryu glanced to his wall clock, a simple feature typically, though it was more aesthetically pleasing than many of the different models that is normally found within the typical student bedroom. After all, Kuro was in many ways not a simply typical student, though on many occasions his attitude had been described as 'simply typical'. The room was standard, nothing outside what would have been that of a university student anywhere else within the country; however while its décor was not his own, the slight touches of atmosphere it possessed were.
"I don't know whether to be happy to see you or not." The lonesome teen grunted, sliding only slightly from the case the slim black form of the forbidden book, stored away rather unprofessionally within his chamber. Still, even as he spoke these words, he wasn't so much looking into the shade of the compartment rather than the curtains before him, which hung so slightly apart to reveal the shadows pressing on the glass, pushing back to him his own reflected face. There had been a time, in his first year in England, where he had taken it upon himself to read up on the classics of literature that stemmed from this great country and its empire. The works of Shakespeare were everything history had respected them to be, and in many ways contained some of his choice works- he could recall reciting the more impacting soliloquies of Hamlet under his breath as he read them, trying to build up in his mind the same sense of mixed damnation and disgust as the tragic hero, placing himself in those same dilemmas. It is common mind to relate ones self to the hero, however in this case Kuro couldn't help but think that instead of staging the great play within the play, he would have merely taken the revenge upon himself.
If there was one tragic hero he could ever place himself aside, it was one that he had read about while spending time in a more isolated environment, at a time when people seemed as far away from him now as they did on this day. It was a classic novel by a famous Irishman, who found an untimely end not long after being found guilty of homosexual offences in his time- A tragic tale in itself. This book was called 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', and spoke of the life of a beautiful young man who had sold his soul for his youth. He couldn't help as he gradually broke through its pages the incredible likenesses they shared. The same golden touch to their gentle hair, the eyes so blue to stare at the sky was to make the clouds envious, the face of simple and innocent youth. Kuro was indeed the picture of a gentle youth, as opposed to the rather more matured and tainted face of his brother…poor Kane, he had been beautiful too once.
As much as he did enjoy a life changing book, the tome within his touch at this moment was not something he had ever experienced- not something anyone he had ever known had ever experienced- and so the decisions were forced on him alone. What should be done with the note was yet to be decided, but he dare not let it leave his company. If there was any possible way of linking this notebook to that crash, it would be the end of his life also. Then again, since when had he ever believed in the ability to kill using supernatural powers? Perhaps there was something he had overlooked, some reason to relieve himself from the guilt, but then again how could he be sure? In his mind his finger prints may as well have been on a gun instead of a page.
The rest of the night didn't take long. He made sure to secure the note in its temporary location, his mind was far too weighted by sleep depravation and the events, and perhaps they were both related. He made sure to protect the document as best he could, his hands were lagging the longer he stood, and even by the next morning he couldn't even recall making the long trip back to the bed after that last buckle snapped into place.
There are few more humbling events in this world than attending the funeral of someone you didn't particularly like. To sit in the procession as one of the key mourning players, whom everyone pities and all the visitors comfort. On more than one occasion he was forced into bearing a face of misery as some unbeknown relative approached to shake his hand, pat his back and tell him everything will be alright. Most of the time his mellow eyes were facing the floor, more so through thought that grieving or boredom. The only benefit Ryu could see to his presence here was to overhear the talk of those who were interested in the events of Kane's final hours, as well as to show off the suit he had been gifted with especially for the occasion. Every person young and old who walked through those rustic iron gates that were so engrossed in ivy, whether they wore a suit, a coat or a casual jacket, each and every one of them was drenched in black. Ryu's suit was not the same as theirs, he was a special person in the life of this man, and thus he had demanded the opportunity to express his relation. Whether these expressions were true or artificial, Ryu Kuro sat cross-legged on the cushioned black metal seat, gleaming through a congestion of polluting misery in his full pearl white suit, with black tie and cufflinks in contrast to the other patrons, a single red rose pinned to his jacket he adjusted with a hand concealed in a leather glove.
Ryu had been sitting in the same place, listening to the same formalities for the last few hours, and he was becoming tired of it. The seats were lined out so perfectly, each attempted a mask of decent comfort with a silk pillow. Situated on the stand the long black casket sat with a dominating presence, whenever anyone would approach they would lower their voices, as though they would awake the sleeping form inside it. There was a speech to be made, there would be words shared by the departed's family and friends, there was no doubt about this, still though Ryu had little attention to spare this. He did still feel the guilt, he could feel the weight of pressure, and yet the prick of curiosity made all this seem momentarily avoidable. He had kept a careful tab on each participant; each close friend and distant relative who graced the wide green fields on a winter's afternoon, as the small talk and condolences dragged on though Ryu became more aware of a lacking. Suka, while no doubt free to do so due to the less than serious nature of her injuries, had not arrived. Neither would she.
"Hey, Kuro…" The greeting was far less formal than any other he had received on this day, and he had received rather plenty despite his reputation of being the family exclusive. After all, this was merely half of his collective family. The extension he received would not have been made by any aging relation, and so he made the kind grace to actually acknowledge the speaker rather than grunt. Before him stood a lad who was not very tall, more so small rather than stumpy, was clinging so unsociably to his dark blue overcoat. The boy was called Tate, Ryu knew that much, however he'd never suspected that someone who walked in the circles this boy was known it would be friends with his step-brother. Then again, there was many a place in Kane's life where Ryu would ever look, despite the fact the students appearance was likely nothing more than a polite gesture. Repositioning his stance Kuro folded his arms with a melancholy expression and caught his eye, waiting for something. Nothing else came, however.
"Anything I can do for you?" Of course he'd never consider being forwardly rude to such people, even if they had been associates of Kane he couldn't really hold it against them for that- it was more or less forced on people at his University. How that boy had never been expelled was a wide-spread mystery, however Kuro had suspicions.
"Well, yeah I suppose…" The usually plucky young lad was somewhat thrown off by the grander boys casual act, one would think a funeral would be the setting of sadness. Indeed it was however, there was not a face within the crowd other than Ryu's own that could withdraw the emotion as he could, there was quite a turn out in fact. Then again his father was from quite a large family, many of whom had shown up today in their best dreary attire to bid final blessing on a damned and tortured soul. The funeral, as per tradition it seemed within the Wright family, was held within the graveyard courts itself, on delicate winter frosted grass at the first sunset tone of afternoon. Ryu's attention had wandered for a moment and young Tate had noticed, Kuro quickly returned his gaze away from the horizon, which was displaying a gradual orange glaze.
"Well what is it?" Ryu questioned, removing the blood red rose from his jacket as he did so, before quickly looking up before Tate could reply, "Oh, but first, can you tell me whether you've seen Suka?" The response was a resounding negative, just as he'd anticipated. Surely she couldn't have been all that badly damaged, unless there was some form of injury undetectable to the passing eye, in which case he supposed it would give her a reason to miss it. Despite that however, he still had that nagging presence in his skull that was trying t convince him that there was something else that was keeping her away from the grave that day…
"So anyway, do you wanna come talk with the guys?" Tate's voice was sincere yet nervous; meanwhile Ryu's responding facial expression was bemused yet sceptical. Who exactly were these 'the guys'? He wondered to himself. Then again he was aware Tate was a frequent acquaintance of Lance, who was probably the closest thing within the University grounds that Kuro had to a male best friend. Standing in his luxurious suit Ryu made a show of dusting off the sleeves and tampering with his hair. The moss headed boy opposite had to admit, the uniform went well with it, his hair was like gold reflecting off platinum. Graciously Kuro accepted the invitation; he could appreciate some different company after being in the good graces of ancient veterans and widows who should long ago have found their place in God's own good graces. The younger, less introduced participants were all the more conspicuous in their less than festive attire, huddled like penguins as they were in their dark suits around one of the grander pillars that supported the lengthy barred fence surrounding them. As they approached Ryu was not surprised to witness Lance, standing as the king pin among the huddle of around six students from the University. To his right, a slender girl known to him only as Nel, with long shiny black hair that reached to her posterior stood with hand on hip, looking very sophisticated in her long black skirt and dress hat- which posed a long elegant white feather on its tip, and she contrasted so well with the lad at her side. Lance, with his dull toned myrtle hair and almost glowing eyes the colour of dew dripping grass, stood with folded arms staring into the sky, his navy blue suit with black waistcoat made him look higher on the profit ladder than he was. Surrounding them was the usual battalion, of whom Kuro knew very little. There was a tall young man dressed completely in grey, with pale blonde hair and eyes so blue they were almost white. Another chap was alongside them, this one Ryu had seen quite a few times around the University, despite the fact that Ryu had doubts he even attended there. He was around the same size as Lance, however his hair was lengthier, and a matted red tone that was dark at the roots and became lighter towards the tips, much like flowing blood; it sometimes gave Ryu the creeps. He wondered if the boy had died it to make it that colour.
"Ah,
Lance wasn't expecting to see you here." Of course this wasn't
entirely true, however it did grant a good opening to finding the
lads motives. Lance didn't turn his head from the clouds; however
Nel looked across to him with a weak smile. It was a strange thing,
Kuro supposed, when a young friend died. Still, he was receiving a
strange impression from Lance's blank expression, almost as though
he was trying to maintain silence from him. This impression was cut
off however when the shiny eyed lad tilted his nose down and looked
at him, giving a toothy grin. Ryu was rather relieved by the
appreciation, though given the circumstance it was quite likely a
gesture of pity. After all, in terms of the University's social
circles Lance and Neil were something of the golden couple, despite
the fact they had never dated.
"Well I figured you'd get
lonely." He said with a chuckle, the blood haired individual
besides them gave a smirk. This kind of smirk wasn't in the least
bit warming though, and for a second it caught Ryu's attention.
"Come on, let's get something to drink." Lance strode forward
and placed a hand on Ryu's shoulder, Tate watched from the side
with a reassuring nod. Ryu returned the gesture and turned alongside
Lance and made went on their way.
The book hit the desk with a flutter. The miscellaneous notes and sketches surrounded it slid gracefully onto the floor as the black tome dominated the polished wooden surface. The time was getting on, a quarter past ten and the day was all but coming to an end. Ryu Kuro, still donned in his bright white suit, stood before his desk holding a crippled rose nervously in his hand. He'd had an excuse to avoid this before, now however he would have to stand before it. The Death Note, could it possibly be true?
Kane Wright, no older than twenty years and in better physical shape than most, though his mental condition was questionable and his attitude needed some serious tuning. Other than that, a perfect specimen of life- dead, due to an untimely heart attack at the wheel of a car. Only minutes, perhaps, after a false prophet in the form of a notebook had proclaimed his death. By all logic, it was a coincidence. Ryu however, didn't completely believe in coincidences, for that matter, Ryu Kuro wasn't that totally confident in logic. There was only one possible way he could deduce from which he could finally decide whether the death of his step-brother was on his hands. He would have to write another name into the Death Note and suffer through the anxiety of awaiting another death. Still, wouldn't it be worth that to find he was in fact free of guilt? Yet what if he wasn't? It was all too much to decide on a whim. All he could think at this moment was that this note was potentially dangerous, and that to let it out of his presence even for a moment could bring untold chaos upon his own life. He would have to carry the book with him from now on; there was no other option but that. Pulling the chair out from the long desk Ryu calmly sat with one leg perched daintily across another, the ruffled flower in his fingers twisting gentle as he mulled over all of these nightmarish things. He couldn't help but find it strange, he may well have committed a murder, something that weighed especially heavy on his young mind, and yet he could do well to sit quietly and reflect without so much as a strand of panic tainting the gold of his hair or the glitter of his eyes.
A gentle click came to the door. Without so much as a jolt of his fluid movements Ryu picked the Death Note by its corner and slid it gently underneath his laptop. Without any sign of haste the latch released and the door withered from its hinges, and a cautious step interrupted his less than casual thoughts. Hurt chocolate eyes bore into the side of his head, for a moment he wasn't determined on greeting or evading, for a moment alone he was lost to his next course. That said, he hadn't much anticipated this event. Twisting in hi chair Ryu, with a look of childish curiosity, peeked through wide eyes as Suka Magaru stepped timidly into his chamber. He had known from the silence who to expect, it was one of many understandings the two of them shared- and yet for the first time Kuro was faced with something about her he couldn't understand if he tried.
"…Suka." He muttered, almost in a whisper as he stepped from his seat and graced forward, stopping no more than a pace from his chair as he looked on at her. It had been little more than a day since he had seen her laid out on a stretcher, face burned and cut, or was that perhaps his mind racing and filling in cuts where there were none? Her face was bruised, looked strained and violated indeed, yet she had not lost anything that made her what she was to him. In a way he was annoyed, he had wanted to say things that faced with her now, he just couldn't summon the words to. Though she had not attended the memorial, she stood before him dressed in black. Her top, her detachable sleeves, her skirt, her tights, her boots- all black, even the decorative bow on her head. It was not something Ryu was accustomed to seeing.
"Kuro-Chan," the words struck something in Ryu's chest that almost made him step back, but he fought against it, "-There's something I have to say." She spoke flatly; her voice had nothing in it of her chipper self. It was a rare thing, to hear her speak so seriously, and Ryu had only faced it on most dire occasion. That said what better occasion was direr than this?
"Indeed we do, please." He gestured across to his bed, positioning the chair before it and sitting down in his usual mannerism. Suka shuffled slowly to the bed and sat with little more effect than a feather upon the mattress. Kuro had expected a silence, the weight of despair seemed to be lingering both between and above them, it was not so.
"I hope you don't hate me for not being there today." The first words she said, and Kuro already felt she was far missing the mark. He didn't care whether she had shown up for the funeral, considering her condition there was great doubt between the patrons whether she would show up anyway. This was not his concern.
"-but, you must understand." She continued. Ryu held his thoughts to himself, "It wasn't because of…what you think. I don't know how to say it, I don't…" She sped off into a mutter, Ryu sighed internally as he watched her. In her eyes, which were today devoid of make-up of any profession, perhaps she didn't think it would make a difference to his scratched and blotched face, he could see the building to what would no doubt become either tears of grief or of frustration. He couldn't help but wonder…
Placing his hand into his pocket Ryu removed an item he had not allowed to leave his presence since he received it. The silver amulet she had gifted him with, it shone with a dull light in his hand, almost emanating a glow that gradually caught onto the girl's attention. As soon as she laid her softened eyes upon it, as soon as that connection between them was brought back into light, the words seemed to find shape for them both.
"I couldn't go to that place. I couldn't stand to be there, in his memory, and be with those other people. I couldn't stand to be in a place that looked on him like that, where everyone was sad and mourning because he died…"
"You
loved him." Ryu interjected, watching every motion in her eyes,
which seemed to have lost some of their shine- immediately though
they locked to him, caught off guard by the statement as slowly, they
became solemn.
"No. It's because I don't love him." She
shook her head slowly, as though making some kind of dreaded
confession. For a moment Ryu believes she was about to start rambling
hysterically, she was moving somewhat unusually and her eyes were not
about her. "That day, I-It wasn't because I wanted to." No
sooner than she spoke Ryu left his chair, it was somewhat of a reflex
and for a second he felt foolish that he had no secondary action to
follow up with, however he compensated for this by walking across to
the window. The curtains were still drawn, he very rarely opened
them. Still, it made things much easier than facing the one he'd
been circulating suspicious and hurtful thoughts of since the moment
he stepped away from that accident. It was almost strange to be in
the same room as her again.
"I've told you, countless times, I hate you being with him." Kuro's voice came out as something stern, and for a moment it was followed with silence. Suka watched the back of his head as he stared now to the ground. He was waiting to say something, he was sure of it. There was something they both had to clear before it could be over.
"Why did you lie to me?" This was the only question he had concern for at this point, all else seemed so meaningless now. Were she to say 'I never liked you' it would all find an end there, what more would need to be said? Still, he didn't believe that was the reason, so he needed to know. He turned on the spot, he now stood across the room from the object of his greatest trust and betrayal, compared to this, Kane's death seemed almost worth nothing to him. No sooner than he had turned did he feel the impact, for an instant he believed she had tackled him, assaulted him even. Though as the flare of collision subsided he found her wrapped around his chest in a harsh embrace- it was such a familiar thing, and despite his own frustrations, he could feel the old memories returning. Still he could not allow it to pass so easily, he couldn't allow it. The connection with Suka, all this time of watching her with him despite all Kane had done to him, knowing she was aware of it all and yet doing nothing to help or separate from the evil creature. This was one of the reasons he'd done it to begin with, this matter could well have sent Kane Wright to his grave, and he couldn't allow it to pass.
"He came back…after you left." The recollections of those events were strong. Whisper by whisper he could call back the vision of Suka disappearing behind heavy doors, wandering through the corridors…even though it was only in his mind, it was almost as if now he looked back on it, he could see the shadow behind him. Watching, following him.
"I know he wasn't meant to be there, he just wasn't, if I'd have known I'd have spent the time with you, you know I would!" Her grip tightened on his suit jacket, her arm now around his neck as he stared down into the carpet underfoot; despite this now wherever he looked within his minds eyes all he was met with were dark, wicked jade heavy eyes.
"You seemed pretty eager to see her again."
"I was worried…he had blood on his sleeve, I really didn't know what to think…" Ryu was torn between two places, two times at once. Here he stood, entwined in embrace with dear Suka, while in another he was laid out on a cold unforgiving white floor as the figure of his evils lorded above him, holding the treasure that meant to him as much as Suka's memory. The one symbol that stood out from the events that led his mind to mistrust her, the same item that had struck him door and dripped his blood.
"-After all it is a farewell gift from the woman you loved!"
"Get the hell away from me!" Ryu pushed his hands to Kane's chest, that aggressive smirk and devilishly sharp and numerous teeth lorded in his mind as he shoved the beast away from his eyes. Suka started, she stepped back and held her arms across her, watching as Kuro buried his face in one hand and held the wall with the other. Slowly, so slowly, the images drained away from his mind. The object that had rested in his palm now seemed heavy, pressed against his forehead the silver was frosty and bitter. He pulled it away, coddling it in his pale warm hands as the girl watched with great uncertainty.
"I…was frightened of him." She spoke softly. Ryu gradually lifted his bright blue eyes from the shining surface and cupped it in his hands, looking to Suka with a comforting respect. As much as it seemed wrong to think it, he had hoped as much. "I was always frightened of him…the things he did, what he did to me. I didn't know what else…"
Despite it all Ryu couldn't bring himself to move from his position, he simply stood with amulet in hand and watched as her tears swelled and subsided. In Kane's death he had brought to light the true meaning behind their relationship- somewhere, in the back of Kuro's mind, he wondered what young Wright had done to her to make her so terrified.
Without another word Suka brushed off her delicate cheeks, she seemed to carry such a weight now that Ryu had never known her to bear. Her clothes, he saw, were not of mourning to any departed soul, but more so to her grief and regret of what she had become, to what he had forced upon her. Her hands laid gently on his, unfurling them to reveal the silver heart-shaped trinket in his grasp. The patch of the chain link that had been so brutally cracked was shoddily mended, and yet she didn't speak a word of it. Perhaps she knew what Kane had done, or at least had some brief idea. The scar at the side of Kuro's head seemed to tingle at the presumption- an eternal wound that would carry this moment's memory. With nimble hands young Suka adjusted the amulet back to its proper place around Kuro's neck, and for a faint moment she seemed unmasked and relieved of what had happened. Kuro remained silent as he fixed it into its proper arc above his chest, brushing hand onto hand against hers as they both paid their mute respects, before the silence brought an end, and she departed from his home.
