The apartment in Metal Bey City hadn't ever felt like home to Gingka, not after spending so much time on his own or on Madoka's couch. The city itself is one of his favorite places, brimming with the enthusiasm of so many other bladers living here that it's almost overwhelming, but Gingka loves it. The apartment has never given him any similar feelings. It's almost as if it's unconnected to the the rest of the places he's fond of here.
Somehow Kyoya coming here has cast an oppressive chill on the place unmatched by the emptiness of before. For all that Gingka and his father try to engage him Kyoya defers# their efforts with twice the determination. That seems to be all of what they see of the old Kyoya. Rather than be any sort of presence, he creeps from room to room like a specter, taking his leave immediately should one be occupied and vanishing into his room for long periods of time. The only battles Gingka's father had not allowed to be lost were mealtimes. For breakfast, lunch and dinner Kyoya would slouch across from Gingka and methodically finish his food, not looking up unless someone shifted a chair or dropped something, while Gingka's father tried calmly to fill the silence. Then the strange game of hide-and-seek restarts, and for all that Gingka wants to see him get better it isn't a game he wants to win because when he does every word in his mouth vanishes.
Sometimes when Gingka passes Kyoya's shut door he sees the light off. Does Kyoya sleep this much normally? Or is he sitting in the dark for some reason? Neither seem healthy but he doesn't know how to address it. It doesn't help that Kyoya still won't speak.
Gingka sighs. If his father were here more often maybe it would help, but as the director of the WBBA's Japan base- which also happens to be the main base- Ryo Hagane is often busy even without the police on their doorstep clamoring for information. Gingka wouldn't mind so much if he didn't have to stay indoors all day to keep an eye on Kyoya, but the other blader wasn't interested in going out at all. Since Kyoya isn't allowed to train on doctor's orders it should be a relief, because if he's honest Gingka isn't sure he could stop Kyoya from doing what he wants, but instead it just makes Gingka's worry grow. He wonders if Kyoya is afraid of being kidnapped again.
From his view of the living room Kyoya's still watching out the window. A light drizzle of rain began a few minutes ago and droplets are scattered over the glass, a couple trailing down. Kyoya doesn't do this often, probably only when his leg starts to hurt, but when he does Gingka can pretend things are normal.
They'd asked him, when he was checked out from the hospital, if he had any family he wanted to contact. He'd eventually shaken his head, and the matter wasn't brought up again. Was it that Kyoya had no family, Gingka wonders, or does he not want them to know?
/
Ryo digs his thumbs into his temples and rubs circles, groaning over the headache that's been forming since nine in the morning, precisely when they learned the news that he's been slowly confirming as true in the last four hours. According to the reports being connected by the police, people have been vanishing from the region a lot recently- specifically bladers ages thirteen to twenty. Being the organization most likely to keep tabs on things like this, the WBBA had been the first one they'd planned to come to, and now that one of Japan's top bladers is one of the victims Ryo's working with them to solve this.
He would have liked to tell them that he has a file just waiting for this moment filled with pages on a new gang or cult for them to take down, but even with all of his best undercover agents on the hunt nothing has come up. Hours of talking to and organizing people has given him nothing to show for any of it, and now he finally resigns to his exhaustion and slumps over the back of his chair. The immortal phoenix… brought down by bureaucracy. He sighs.
"Mr. Hagane!"
The urgency of the newcomer's tone makes him spring back up. It's one of the officers he's been working with, Commissioner Hito. "Yes?" he answers. Hopefully this is good news.
"We spoke with America's police force, apparently the disappearances are happening there as well," the commissioner tells him.
Ryo's forehead creases. It hadn't occurred that this could be something on a global scale, especially without the signs that others had left behind. "I'll speak with the directors of the other divisions, see if they've noticed anything that we can use."
Hito nods and walks out of his office, leaving Ryo alone with his thoughts.
/
He breathes deeply, the scents of dirty brick, pavement, and gasoline burning his nose. This city wasn't much different from Metal Bey, besides being a little less clean and more maze-like, but Tsubasa's heart pounds all the same. While he may not look like a blader now, it still remains that someone who was was abducted nearby. Back when he kept below radar, this kind of thing had been easier, but since he'd done bigger competitions it was much harder being anonymous and therefore more dangerous to collect data. Still, the WBBA needs whatever they can get.
Threading his way through buildings, Tsubasa turns a corner and tries not to feel relieved that he'd even found the spot. Graffiti plastures the bricks and someone has left a black trashbag against one side, which he nudges open to see just empty boxes and bottles. Nothing of interest. He steadies himself and keeps looking around.
To anyone watching, he should look like a punk with a bit of an artistic flair. The dark hoodie he's wearing falls into decorative folds inlaid with bright red, and his jeans are covered in a frankly heinous amount of belts and zippers. The bag over his shoulder has a can of spray paint peeking from out the teeth in case anyone had any other doubts about why he was here. Just another delinquent.
Hopefully it's all Tsubasa will need to stay safe from whoever is snatching bladers. Eagle and its launcher are tucked into the hoodie's front pocket, but knowing these people took down Kyoya, Tsubasa doesn't like his odds in a fight.
He pauses. In front of his eyes, hidden in the midst of much flashier and messier scribbles and designs is the word "l'Éventreur" in neat cursive. Had it not been for the elegance put into it, it would have simply faded into the background. Tsubasa frowns at it. He isn't a linguist but it looks like French, and while English is fairly commonplace in Japan, this is out of place.
Leaning in closer he notes that the smell is still strong. It was applied recently, probably within the last day or two- the same time frame as the disappearance. He takes out his phone and casually poses as pretentiously as he can bear, keeping the print clearly visible in the background. There isn't anything more besides it, so once Tsubasa has his evidence he unzips his bag and smirks. There's always a little fun going undercover, and it just wouldn't look right to come out here with spray paint and leave without using it. He pulls a mask over his face, although he's already assured his paints are nontoxic Tsubasa isn't chancing anything, and shakes up a can. If a picture of a violet graffiti eagle ends up on his phone, well, that isn't anyone's business is it?
/
Before all of this, Kyoya had never been here. It never bothered him, he never cared to explore more of a person's life than he had to. Now he almost wishes he had. Kyoya scowls at his surroundings, all fairly bland furnishings for an apartment belonging to anyone, let alone his rival, but it can't be helped. Gingka and Mr. Hagane both hadn't lived here very long or very much before now, it seems, although now one of them always seems to be around. It's irritating.
The bundle of restlessness in his chest flutters, pushing Kyoya to once again stand up and wander the apartment, although by now he knows everything by heart- possibly even better than Gingka. There's the kitchen/dining room which is the largest space taken up only by a small square table and four chairs, two bedrooms with two closets, the bathroom, and a living room space with just a couch and small tv. Three windows are in the house but one doesn't open, two sliding doors- one with a lock that gets stuck. The kitchen area has four cupboards but three of them are full. All of this he rechecks as subtly as he can as he moves through each room.
All of the thoughts he tries to silence keep spinning through his head no matter how much he paces. Something inside of him is convinced there's still more to come. Gingka watches him from the table, his eyes reflecting the same concern he and his father had been showing for the past month but Kyoya knows he won't say anything. Gingka's been walking on eggshells around him. It's like he thinks any misstep could set Kyoya off or break him and it makes Kyoya burn with rage but Gingka might not be wrong, being in a few feet of anyone sends prickling across his skin.
The police are working on it. It's supposed to reassure him but he can't help seeing all the flaws with the thought, like how deep this goes and how little evidence is left behind. The police could be in on it. Anyone could be, and this could push something drastic into happening. But Kyoya is still free. He retreats to the living room couch to gaze out the window. The feelings on that fact are mixed, though mostly positive. There isn't anything that will be done to him for now, but his body hasn't gotten the message. It feels like he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kyoya isn't sure that's not true.
Gingka gets up in the kitchen and he can't resist the impulse to stand and move so he doesn't, instead he passes through the house until he gets to his room and shuts the door. A breath he didn't know he was holding escapes. Mr. Hagane had figured when he first came here that Kyoya would need space, so he had the room to himself while Gingka and his father shared the other.
It was just as bland as the rest of the apartment, only moreso given that Kyoya had nothing to put in it and no desire to change that. Just a rug on wood-tiled floor, surrounded by bare white walls, no windows, all small enough to cross in about four steps from any direction. The closet didn't offer much extra space either. Without any other better escapes Kyoya finds himself coming here a lot, but if he's honest he hates this room. In the short time he's been here it's already become associated with the thoughts and memories he can't shut out or work through, the walls trapping and echoing everything back until he's lost in his own head. It's a melancholy that Kyoya had always made short work of back when he felt like he had control. Now there isn't any way to fight back.
If staying inside of it made him feel trapped, leaving it made him feel hunted. Every corner and shadow seemed occupied by the people he knew wanted him, no matter how often he checked the apartment the phantoms of enemies would refill areas unattended, and then there was Gingka and his father always always watching like they were waiting for him to prove that something inside him was broken- Kyoya wasn't broken. It ran him down to the bone until he was weary. Inside the room, the shadows and ghosts were still there, but somehow they were more bearable than the people trying to help.
Kyoya sits down on the bed, moving his left leg up on the sheets as it had begun to ache from his pacing, and reluctantly takes out Leone.
It's over. It should be over. More than anything he wants to believe it. But as he traces the warm metal of the bey, Kyoya can't squash the doubt that's been lingering since he left the hospital, and trusting his instincts means accepting that he'll have to face everything he dreads all over again. He needs to win this time.
Leone clinks against the headboard as he sets it down.
/
The clatter of keys typing in the WBBA's data center wasn't unusual by any means, but the person doing it couldn't say the same about himself. Since the reformation of the organization it had become even harder to pass off as ordinary.
On the screen a series of bladers appear, and he clicks on one familiar to the members of his shift. As suspected, the file says the young man is more than he seems. Not only that, but evidently he's a member of this organization, the very one to help take down their old business partners.
"You've bitten off a little too much this time, Mr. Otori." A curl finds the corner of his mouth.
Finally! I've got to tell you, this took me like way longer than I meant it to. Like, between personal issues and rewritting the dang thing about three times, this thing was an ugly beast. I don't expect the next chapter to be any better unfortunately. Hahaha... ha...ha. Yeah.
Chapter three still needs to be rewritten, but that's definitely a side project.
There were a LOT of scenes and things that got cut or changed to let this thing flow better, and I wasn't going to do Kyoya POV until waaay later, but writer's block happened, so I just wrote what I felt like.
I'm... really sorry I don't have a more consistent, frequent update schedule. Ya'll deserve better, especially after sticking with me this long. I'm working on it, but I still can't promise anything unfortunately. Thank you for following my story, and for all of your awesome comments.