Notes: 852 (and counting) total views on Renegade since I first started to publish it! (I'm excited because it's Hong Kong's area code XD) Yay!
Chapter 10: 絶望不動 [Fudou in Despair]
Splinters flew into his face, and Fudou couldn't help it. He let out a loud yell.
"Look, I was right," the guy started to say, but Fudou didn't stick around to hear any more. He booked it out of there. He had to hoist his numb foot forwards for the first few steps, and he grit his teeth as it began to sting. His foot quickly settled down and he was able to reach full speed before it was too late. One last image he caught of the splayed corpse stayed with him as he sprinted. As the commotion started, he wasn't sure what exactly he was running from.
His elbow scraped against the rough brick, but that was the least of his concerns right now. The whoops and yells behind him were too reminiscent of a pack on the hunt. The good old pain in his chest flared up again, after having been so blissfully absent during his actual crime, and he had to stop to cough, managing to slip out of the guy's clutches only by the skin of his teeth. Deafening wind blew past Fudou, making the shouts fade in and out and come from all sorts of different directions. Or was that because they were spreading out? Were there more of them!? Which way was the right way!? These alleyways and their multiple forks.
Fudou took a left and then a right. So much for getting out of this maze: he'd be happy to get out of this alive. His foot met an empty can and in his haste he accidentally sent it flying towards the wall. The resulting clunk thundered through his eardrums. Surely all of them would have heard where he was right now. Smooth move, dick!
Though his chest was burning, and another pain was quickly growing at his side, he kept running. But he knew this couldn't last. Eventually, he would have to slow down. And if he didn't find his way out of this maze, he would be killed. He had just witnessed a murder in cold blood. He had had ample time and opportunity to remember the faces of everybody involved. Fudou had no doubt that if they found him he would be the next one to stare down that barrel.
Shadows bounced across his path, making it hard to see where he was going. It was growing darker as the sun set, and the uneven height of the buildings didn't help matters. The world seemed to be caving in and several times Fudou found himself running in darkness, only able to see a few steps ahead of him. Seriously, with all the running he'd been doing, it was like he never quit football.
Fucking football. The thought of the game and Kageyama's smug laughter only spurred his legs on harder.
He turned what felt like the hundredth corner and felt that despite his best efforts, he might be moving deeper into the alleyways instead of out of them. He slowed down in an attempt to get his bearings and had to dart off again into another corner as a delighted shout came from behind. How big was this fucking maze!? (He would know, he spent the whole afternoon wandering it.) Which way went out? He couldn't keep running forever. He didn't want to die at the hands of a bunch of teenage punks.
A car alarm blared in the distance and he turned towards it as much as the jagged alleyway would let him, the rush of gratefulness stabbing at his heart. He could almost kiss the sap who was probably smashing the car windows in right now. He turned another corner, and found himself on a path that led straight for hundreds of metres. The car alarm grew louder and louder, bouncing down the alley. It was his homing call. At the end, he could make out a larger street running perpendicular to the alleyway. A street. A wide open street. Would have people. He needed people.
The street was empty save for two people headed in completely different directions, who gave him an odd look when he stumbled out of the alleyway. Even the car that had led him there was on another street further up, still blaring away. He must look a sorry sight, wheezing in precious air, taking in the fading sunlight, gaze darting left and right and behind him, practically hacking his lungs out. But now people had seen him. And nobody would forget seeing a kid with a mohawk and a red tattoo on his head anytime soon.
He needed to get to downtown. He needed to lay low. Fudou turned his back on the sounds of the car alarm and took step after step down the road.
And with the lull in action and urgency came the rush of very unwelcome sounds and images.
Fudou didn't make it far before his world started to spin. His stomach was churning again, and when he spotted a public bench ahead he wasted no time in stumbling over and falling into it. He didn't know how long he sat there, crouched inwards, trying to keep himself from vomiting, eyes kept firmly on the ground. There was the occasional passerby, but to them he probably just looked like a brooding kid (devastated by a breakup probably, ha!) and none of them ever gave him a second glance.
He shifted to rest his head on his hands. His elbows supported the whole structure and dug into his knee, but at least the dull pain reminded him that he was still alive. Unlike the pathetic sap in the alleyway maze. How long would his body lie there with a broken skull and ooze coming from his head? A few days at best. Maybe even longer, if the only people that frequented the maze were the punks just now. With how convoluted the alleys were, there was no way the stink from the body would ever make its way out into the open.
Fudou closed his eyes and rubbed at them furiously, but he couldn't erase the image of the lolling hand from his mind. That led to the glimpse he got of the corpse, which hadn't been very clear, but hell—his brain could fill in the details. Fudou's world narrowed and the edges turned grey and fuzzy. The ground started to roll, and only his elbows jabbing hard into his thigh kept him from falling over. His heartbeat was cranked back up again, thumping to the beat of his shallow breaths. There was no one here to see, so he gave up trying to stop it and heaved at the ground between his legs. Lucky he hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. He curled his hands into tight fists and pushed down on the bench to keep his balance.
When he was done, he settled back onto the bench, stomach calmer but mind no more assured. He couldn't stop thinking of McSmooth's smug laugh, the gunshot, the way he'd casually put his gun away and the way everybody had vandalised the corpse. They had loomed up at Fudou with sick expressions of glee that he was pretty sure he'd never forget. Was Takan happy to submit to somebody power-crazy enough to abuse his hold of it over a fellow human being and then point and laugh?
He was reaching for another cigarette, watching his hand and keeping it as still as he could, when he had a thought.
It couldn't compare, but he remembered the first time he'd brought them the goods.
McSmooth wasn't too much of a step up from how he'd acted then.
Act dropped, he scrabbled in his pockets for the cigarette pack and came out with an unopened one. One of the ones he'd taken from the store. Fudou ripped it open and shoved one into his mouth, chewing the end of it (it tasted like ass) before he lit it. Luckily, he didn't mess up too badly in the process and burn himself.
He took a long draft of the smoke, relishing the burn and the way it scraped through his throat. It was a different flavour to the one he usually smoked. Stronger and more bitter, though not unpleasantly so. To his disappointment, a few puffs didn't make him feel better, and in fact might have made him feel worse. But he didn't stop. If he stopped taking those deep breaths, he might freak out again.
Then one of the passersby didn't actually pass by, but instead stopped in front of him. Fudou looked up, threw the cigarette aside, and scowled.
This was really not the fucking time.
It was Takan, looking at least as frazzled as Fudou felt. His hair was in a mess and his eyes were bloodshot, and he was panting slowly. Fudou knew the feeling.
"That was quite the show," he began to say, going for a dry quip, but Takan interrupted him.
"What did you see?"
Fudou stopped. He tried to keep his expression calm, but his heartbeat was increasing again, slowly but surely. He shouldn't have thrown the cig away. He shifted his entire gaze towards Takan, taking note when he flinched at the eye contact. "That's none of your business."
Takan came to his own conclusions and Fudou read his intent well before he lunged at him. He held Takan's arms in a vice grip, pulling him closer to him to limit his movements. The moment his arms clamped around him, though, the taller boy spasmed, then lunged out of Fudou's grasp. Fudou fell back onto the bench, shocked. Takan advanced, stabbing one bony finger into his chest.
"You better not tell the others what you just saw." His voice was quick and urgent, with just a faint tinge of hysteria.
Fudou knew his jaw had fallen way down, and took his expression even further to rattle Takan. "That's what you're worried about?"
"You better not!" Takan screeched. "I won't let you! No way in hell am I going to be taken in! I didn't even do it!"
Fudou reached out to shake some sense into him, but Takan slammed his arms down against the bench and held them there. A sharp pain shot from both his elbows to his wrists, and Fudou swore. He tried to wriggle free, even rolling his shoulders and trying to stand up, but Takan held him down. This was definitely not Fudou's day.
"Let me go," he snapped. "I won't rat you out or anything." He wasn't sure how truthful he was being just yet.
Takan snorted, and the grip on his arms tightened. Well, that showed just how much he thought of the idea. His eyes were bugging out, and his speech was garbling up. "You're a witness. You're the only witness. We've got to silence you. We can't let you talk."
Fudou stilled, realising where this was going. Panic flared up and he looked left and right, expecting and dreading the appearance of any more of Takan's group. Instead, he locked eyes with a middle-aged, bespectacled jogger, who hurried over with furrowed brows and pursed lips.
"Anything the matter, boys?" she asked when within earshot, looking them over dubiously.
Fudou cleared his throat and forced a smile. "We're fine. Fine." He could see Takan losing it more and more with every passing second, and he needed to get out of this grip quick. He cleared his throat again, staring straight at Takan's confused eyes, and made to stand up. Takan shook his head and took one step back. His arms fell off Fudou like putty.
"We're fine," Fudou repeated.
The woman didn't seem too convinced, but after another polite nod from Fudou, she nodded back and continued on.
When the street was empty again, Takan leaped at Fudou, who had at least expected it, though he was not yet ready. After he side-stepped him Takan landed off-balance and stumbled for a few steps, turning to lunge towards Fudou again. "You can't rat us out. I won't let you! I'm not going to juvvy!"
Son of a bitch. This guy was persistent. When Takan rushed at him again, one arm held back and ready, Fudou sent his right fist straight up his jaw. Takan collapsed instantly into a wheezing heap, shaking for a few more moments before suddenly going still. Too still.
It was way too soon for a throwback to just now and Fudou felt sick again. He backed away and drew out another cigarette, but when he raised it up to his lips he could only see Takan's unconscious body. The corpse in the alleyway quickly followed, and then the smug laughter, the feeling of being hunted, the gunshot, the sick glee on the punks' faces. Fudou heaved again and the cigarette fell from his mouth. His hands dug deep into his pockets, and before he knew it he was staring at a pile of cigarette packs, some still unopened, strewn all over the ground. He could still see Takan lying still further up ahead, and a lump grew in his throat. His tongue felt like a dry sponge in his mouth. A cigarette was now the last thing he wanted.
Fudou turned resolutely, and took step after step in the direction of downtown. He wanted to see people. He needed to see people. He would be protected by the presence of people.
Now that he was actually on a road with a sign, it didn't take too long for him to find his way back to an area he knew. Man, had he wandered far. He'd never been in the area the street map said he was in, and only recognised it by name. Fudou's heart settled down as the streets grew more and more packed, until he had to weave around droves of salarymen and OLs making their way home after work. He let his legs do the work now, keeping a watchful gaze just in case he spotted anybody he needed to make a quick getaway from.
This place was starting to look familiar, and it took him a while before he realised that it was the same part of downtown that the bikers had chased him, Wada, and Takan to after they'd taken the drug. His stomach rolled again, but Fudou was ready for it. The long walk had made him much better at suppressing his heaves at every reminder of what had happened in the alley (because, let's face it, there had been a lot of them).
Yes, this was definitely the same street that he'd fled through after the ramen guy caught them in his storeroom. He'd been doing a lot of running away lately, hadn't he?
Fudou slowed, mulling over the ramen guy's parting words to him that day in the alley. What had they been? "My offer still stands," or something like that. He'd wanted to help him, to save him. Fudou's lip curled, but as he walked further down the street, he turned to look at where the ramen store was.
Huh, so its name was Rai Rai Ken.
The shutters were down, and a piece of paper was stuck to them. Fudou had to side-step and struggle against the human tide to get close enough to read what he already knew.
"Rai Rai Ken is closed until further notice."
He snorted and turned away. So much for that.
There was nothing left except to go home. His grand plan of his last big sale had been kicked to the curb and crushed to pieces by the entire world, and, well, maybe what had happened was for the best. Fudou certainly didn't want to see Takan ever again after this afternoon, and his life would be completely fine without seeing either Maki or Wada again either. He was starting to think that maybe Cap had been onto something when he'd kicked them all out of his life. Maybe he should have done that instead of being wrenched out of theirs.
All he wanted was to go home, eat what would no doubt be a shitty meal, and sleep. He boarded the bus to his suburb and hurried back, his stomach protesting louder with every step.
Fudou unlocked the front gate without announcing his presence, wanting to make a quiet entrance. But when he inserted the key into the main door, it swung back, taking the key with it.
"Where have you been?" his father asked, holding up Fudou's mobile phone.
It wasn't relief at seeing his son home safe on his face, or even simple anger for staying out too late. Mr. Fudou radiated a righteous fury that Fudou had never before seen, tempered with a little bit of—was he correct?—was that regret?
He saw, or rather, heard his mother sobbing quietly beyond the hallway, and shivered. The worst was yet to come.
Next chapter: The jig is up for Fudou, and it's about time, too.