Hogosha

Chapter 11

My Bitter Love

"Love has the power of making you believe what you would normally treat with the deepest suspicion."

-Mirabeau

When Seiju came around, he wished he could hold his head. It was pounding, and he felt like he'd been in a tussle with a bull. The lights were too bright, though it was blessedly silent. His arms were tied to a metal chair, which was sealed to the floor beneath his feet. His legs were tied in place too, though he wasn't gagged in any way. His mask was gone, however, as was his shirt. Thankfully, they'd left him his shirt.

Wincing, he opened his eyes, staring at the table not five feet away. Yusa sat there, eating something, and it took him an entire ten minutes to realize what he was staring at. He felt sick.

He must have made some noise, because she looked up, a human arm bone in hand, and smiled brightly. "Sei-kun! You're awake. Good. Want some?" She held it up, offering.

Mutely, he shook his head, swallowing the bile rising in his throat. He watched her shrug and take another bite. When he had control of himself, he spoke. "Wha-" He stopped, mouth suddenly dry, and cleared his throat. Swallowed. "What's... going on? Yusa?" He wanted to believe it was all a horrible nightmare.

"Dinner, at the moment," she replied. "I'm hungry, and tugging your dead weight around didn't help at all! Normally, I would have had poor Juan do it, but since you've gone and killed him, I have to do all the work again." She wrinkled her nose. "Luckily, Juan had some leftovers, so it's all good!"

He closed his eyes, unable to watch as she took another bite. Maybe this was one of the missing Tokkei...

"Now, now, Sei-kun, what kind of expression is that?" she murmured.

His eyes snapped open, finding her face inches from his, a twisted smile stretching her lips. "Y-Yusa," he stammered. She kissed him, and he nearly gagged at the taste of blood on her lips.

Then she was pulling away, and he screamed as pain ripped through his leg. He clamped his mouth shut, fighting the sound and the pain. She was slowly dragging a knife down toward his knee from about mid-thigh.

"Don't stop now," she whined. "I want to hear it... Lemme hear you scream, Sei-kun," she begged, licking his cheek.

He swallowed. "How... long have... I been unconscious?" he demanded, rather than give in. "Where am I?"

She pouted, pulling away but leaving the steak knife where it was. "We're in Juan's shop, and you've been out for about an hour," she replied. "Don't expect anyone to save you. I've destroyed your jacket and your boots, where those pesky locator beacons of your's are. Your mic too, and anything else I could find." She smiled sweetly at him. "They won't find you, at least not until it's too late."

Panting, Seiju looked up at her, shaking his head. "Why?" he croaked. "Why you?"

She smiled. "Oh, you wanna hear my life story, is that it?" she teased. "Well, I shouldn't disappoint you, then." She giggled.

"Once upon a time, there was this angsty teenage girl that had this pathetic piece of crap mother who blamed her for the father's death. Well, one day, this girl got into a fight with a classmate, and when the classmate fell, dead, the girl panicked. What would she do? How would she get rid of the body? Luckily, the girl remembered the smell of her cooking father from so many years before, so she decided that she would burn the body.

"She hacked it up into little bits, then tossed the first piece into a fireplace... And the smell was so delicious. She couldn't help herself. The girl picked up the leg and took a bite and mmmm..." Yusa threw her head back with laughter. "It was yummy! And ever since, the girl has grown into a beautiful woman and eaten people whenever she wants. What do you think, Sei-kun?"

Seiju, who'd been surreptitiously working at his bonds, frowned up at her. "I think you're insane, Yusa."

Her smile vanished. "SHUT UP!" she screamed, and grabbed the knife, pulling it out and stabbing it into his leg again. She pulled it down, then yanked it out once more. She was smiling in satisfaction as she reveled in his screams. "That's more like it."

He sat back against the chair, panting with exertion as tears of pain rolled down his cheeks against his own will. She was pacing, scowling now.

"You just don't get it, do you, Sei-kun?" she demanded angrily. "That lazy, mopey bitch wouldn't do anything for me! I had to fend for myself! And then the bitch got sick and left me! She went to the damn hospital, you know? I was alone! All alone..." She stared at him, face blank. "Then there was Juan, and he understood... I had Juan, and I wasn't alone anymore..."

Suddenly, she threw back her head and laughed and laughed and laughed. "Did you really believe that bull?" she chortled. "Like I ever gave a fuck about that hard-ass."

Seiju closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He was tired, and in pain. Why couldn't this all end...? "Are you paying attention?" she whispered in his ear, and the pain reared again.

He screamed.

xXx

When they finally tracked down Igarashi's car, it was sitting unattended, keys in the ignition, outside the apartment building Seiju lived in. They went to his apartment, but the door was unlocked and it was empty. Usaki knelt on the floor just inside the door while Shota went to the closed bathroom door. He knocked, but there was no answer.

Cautiously, he opened it. The curtain was drawn on the tub, a figure casting a shadow onto it. "Seiju?" he whispered.

He tiptoed forward and shoved the curtain aside, staring grimly down at the body propped up against the bath wall. There was a sticky note against a half-rotted forehead, and Shota took it.

"He's as good as dead. Have a nice meal, if you're into that sorta thing! The meat rotted," he read aloud. The message was followed by a frowning smiley face, but no signature.

He looked down at the body, but decay made the face unrecognizable. However, he didn't need the face, as Morioka Jiro wore his uniform, complete with name tag. This was one of the missing Tokkei. A sound from the other room forced him to turn and rejoin Usaki, even as he pulled out his cell.

"Someone was hit with a bat here," Usaki said, tapping his finger against the carpet near a small stain of blood.

Shota lifted a brow. "A bat? How do you get that?"

Usaki pointed wordlessly to the left, and Shota saw a blood-stained bat tossed carelessly aside. He was distracted by the other end of his phone call.

"Igarashi," the other person greeted. "What is it?"

"We found your car," Shota said. "Seiju's missing. He was hit by a bat and hauled off. We have the bat and a stain on the carpet." He paused, swallowed, and added, "We've also found Morioka."

"Where?"

"Seiju's place," Shota replied. He ignored his partner as the blond dashed toward the bathroom. "Get here soon. I'm going to start searching for Seiju."

"Fine. You and Usagi-kun be careful, you hear me?" Igarashi growled.

Shota snorted and yawned. "Sure, sure, Degarashi. Ja ne."

"Why you-!"

Shota hung up and joined Usaki in the bathroom. The blond looked pale, but his stony face was unmoving. "They're coming?" he asked after a moment.

Shota nodded. "Yeah. We're going to search for Seiju."

Usaki turned on his heel. "Good," he said, stalking out of the room.

xXx

I'm going to bleed out, Seiju thought distantly. He sat in the chair, hovering between consciousness and sleep. His leg hurt, but it was a vague feeling. I'm losing touch with reality, too, he mused.

"Seeeiii-kuuuun," a voice murmured in his ear.

Pain brought him mostly out of his fog. He didn't scream, but not because he wouldn't, rather he couldn't. His voice was hoarse, throat raw and painful. Why was she torturing him? Why couldn't she just kill him and get it over with?

"Now, now, Sei-kun... So pretty, but so glum. I wonder if I've ever seen you..." Something touched his lips. "Without a smile." She tipped his head back and he felt something cool go down his throat. Water. He started to gulp it, eliciting a mad giggle from his girlfriend. "See? Isn't that nice, Sei-kun?" She pulled the cup away and set it down with a clunk. "I can take care of you forever, Sei-kun..."

She's insane, he thought, unable and unwilling to answer.

"Do you love me, Sei-kun?" she whispered. "Do you?"

He'd thought he had... but could he love someone that had tortured him? He didn't know. Not that he'd tell her that. Not if it meant more pain...

"Sei-kun, do you?" When he didn't answer, she scowled, slowly lifting the knife. "Then I'll put you out of your misery."

He closed his eyes, heart aching. How did things end up this way? Why did it have to be her?

"Well hi then, Sei-kun! Please treat me nicely~"

xXx

He was on his way to work when he nearly bumped into her. She was a beautiful woman, not that he hadn't had his share of dealings with beautiful women. But there was something... different about her. He met her startled gaze and just knew that she was perfect. Maybe even the one.

"O-oh, I'm so sorry," she gasped, taking an unsteady step backward.

He reached out with a hand, gently grabbing her shoulder to help her keep her balance, and smiled brightly. "It's fine. I wasn't watching where I was going," he admitted ruefully.

She returned his smile shyly. "Okay," she mumbled. "I-I'm Yusa. Nataro Yusa. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Seiju beamed. "The pleasure is mine, Nataro-chan. I am Shikibu Seiju." He took her hand and bowed over it, kissing her knuckles.

She blushed cutely, still with a silly smile on her face. "Oh, hello Shikibu-kun."

He shook his head. "Please, my given name, if you would. Or even 'Sei'."

Yusa looked taken aback, but then she blushed still darker, this time with pleasure. "Well hi then, Sei-kun! Please treat me nicely~" she implored.

Seiju met her gaze, pleased. "Always," he whispered, the seal of a promise. "Always, Yusa-chan."

xXx

A gunshot rang, bringing him sharply out of his half-stupor. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. She was still smiling, sadistically, but her eyes were dead. Empty. She sighed, swaying on her feet. "I'm sorry, Sei-kun," she whispered. "We couldn't be together." And she crumbled to the ground, the bloody knife in her hand clattering to the floor.

Seiju stared at her unmoving body as someone fumbled with the ropes on his wrists, tugging and pulling insistently. Someone was saying his name, but it was almost drowned out by the roaring of blood in his ears. Black was encroaching on his vision, and he felt light. Lighter than he'd felt in a very long time.

Then there was Shota, kneeling in front of him with tears in his eyes. He was saying something, but Seiju couldn't hear him. Couldn't see anything but her body on the floor behind him. Couldn't breathe...

And then there was nothing.

xXx

The waiting room was nearly silent, the only noise that of breath and the thump thump thump of Shota's pacing. There was no one else there but those of the Tokkei. Igarashi, Usaki, Aizawa, Shota and Mikami. There weren't even any doctors, though that was because they were busy saving a man's life. A Tokkei officer. A respected man that always seemed to smile, even when he was dying.

Shota pivoted sharply on his heel and walked back the way he'd paced. Usaki sat still and expressionless on a chair, beside Aizawa whom was trying very hard to keep her tears at bay and largely failing. She had her face buried in Usaki's shoulder, and despite how rigid he was because of it, he didn't try to shift her. Mikami was listening to someone on his cell phone, occasionally offering a hum of agreement or denial. He looked annoyed, brow wrinkled so sharply that it was a wonder he didn't have a headache. Igarashi sat on Usaki's other side, fists clenched in his lap and jaw shut tight like welded iron. His eyes were hard, mouth a line of sculpted stone.

They were all varying degrees of pale or flushed with anger. Igarashi was very red in the face, trembling slightly as he obviously fought to mimic Shota. Shota was scowling, but very, very pale. His eyes were troubled, and Usaki suspected that he was pacing to hide his own shudders. Aizawa's face was red and blotchy from crying, though no one could tell because it was still hidden from view. Usaki himself knew that he was probably as pale as his captain. The only person that seemed to have a normal complexion was Mikami himself, though he was being quite curt with the person on the phone.

"Very well. You have my permission," the chairman finally said, and hung up. "They're preparing the funeral for the other Tokkei. It'll be a joint occasion, since none of them had any family."

Shota, whom he was talking to, didn't seem to hear him. Or at least, he gave no indication of doing so. He merely continued to pace. It was Igarashi that finally answered, speaking through his gritted teeth. "Separate graves, though, right?"

Mikami sniffed. "Of course. Headstones and everything. It's the least we can do."

Aizawa's grip on Usaki's arm relaxed slightly in relief, but she made no other sign of having heard the short conversation at all. Silence fell again.

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the door before someone tiny burst into the waiting room. "Shikibu-sama!" a high feminine voice cried.

Before anyone else reacted, Usaki had shot to his feet and flashed across the room, kneeling in front of the brown-haired little girl in the doorway. He waved off the hospital security and waited until the door shut behind them before he pulled her gently into a hug. "Amaya-chan," he said softly.

She hugged him tightly, crying. "Usagi-kun, I heard Shikibu-sama was hurt! Is it true? Is he okay? Where is he?" she babbled quickly, and dashed the tears from her eyes. It didn't do much good, as more flowed to replace them.

Usaki picked her up and walked back to his seat, sitting down with her in his lap. "He'll be fine," he promised. "Where did you hear such things?"

Shota had come over to crouch beside Usaki's leg, in front of Aizawa, and nudged the little girl. "That's what I'd like to know."

"It was on the news," Amaya said, pouting. "They didn't give a name, but they said it was the vice captain of the Tokkei! And they said the first b-briga-ade," she stumbled over the word, sniffling loudly. "I knew! I just knew! He's gonna be okay?" she asked pleadingly.

Shota tucked a few strands of half-heartedly wind-blown hair out of her face and behind an ear. "He'll be just fine, Amaya-chan," he promised, frowning.

Aizawa smiled and patted the girl's head. "They're with him right now, Amaya-chan."

The child nodded, not looking convinced, and rested her head on Usaki's shoulder. "He'd better! It'll be sad if he isn't."

Another thought occurred to Usaki, and he frowned at her. "What about your aunt? Does she know you're here?"

She didn't answer for a moment, fidgeting in his lap. Finally, she mumbled, "No... not really..."

Mikami sighed and got up. "I'll go contact her then. She's likely worried."

Amaya pouted after him, then sighed. "I won't be able to see him," she said dejectedly.

Shota and Usaki exchanged a glance. Shota patted her shoulder. "We'll see what we can do."

Half an hour later, a male nurse stepped through the doors, glancing around at the mismatched party. "You're the friends and coworkers of Shikibu Seiju?" he asked, consulting a clipboard.

"Yes," Mikami said, standing up. "How is he?"

The nurse smiled slightly at them and gave Amaya a little wave. "He's stable. We went through a rough patch, but he's a strong kid. He'll survive, even if he has some scars to show off for the ladies," he said confidently. "You can see him, but he's in a drugged sleep so he won't wake up. Please don't try to wake him. He needs to rest."

Shota nodded and beckoned to Usaki and Amaya. "Can you show us?"

Aizawa sniffled a little and got to her feet. "Igarashi-san and I will go give the news to the others," she offered.

"Thank you," Mikami and Shota chorused, glanced at each other, and Mikami continued. "I need to get back to the office anyway, so I'll give you both a ride."

Once they were gone, the nurse lead the three remaining to a private room, urged them once more to leave him be, and left them to it. Amaya reached Seiju first and stared down at his pretty face. Then she clambered up onto the bed, careful of the various tubes and equipment, and cuddled up to Seiju's side.

Usaki and Shota exchanged a look before taking silent sentry on either side of their friend.

That was the way Amaya's aunt, Ishizo Hanabi, found them. She stepped into the room, frowning, and saw her niece asleep beside the injured man. Shota got up, a finger to his lips pointedly, and motioned for the woman to follow him out of the room. Stiffly, she obliged. Once they were ten feet away, she grabbed his arm, stopping him. "What is my niece doing here?" she demanded angrily, voice a hiss.

Shota sighed, cursing Mikami for making him put up with this. "She saw the news about Seiju and was worried."

"For that-that-" she sputtered, and changed her words at the look in Shota's eyes. "Man," she spat like something tasting awful. "I won't have it! She's coming back right now and never coming near you people again!"

Shota frowned at her before shrugging. "So long as you're prepared for her reaction."

Half-turned away, the woman stopped and looked at him, scowling in confusion. "What?"

"She adores Usaki," he replied. "It's understandable, of course, seeing as he risked his life to keep her safe. She might resent you if you keep her from the only man that has ever kept his word to her in her life."

Ishizo frowned at him. "What do you know," she muttered, but was obviously thinking about it.

"We're just like you," Shota said quietly. "We're people too."

She snorted. "You're murderers," she refuted just as quietly. "She may hate me for it, but I'll keep her away from such awful influence."

He shook his head. "It's too late, and you know it. Her father screwed with her head before we ever met her."

She didn't answer, didn't have an answer, and turned away. She walked past him again five minutes later, a sleepy Amaya walking with her. Amaya saw him and stopped, jerking out of her aunt's grasp. "Bye-bye, Shota-sama," she said, hugging his waist. "We'll see each other again!"

He patted her head, but refrained from anything else under the glare of her aunt. "Take care, Amaya-chan."

She let her aunt pull her away, waving, and was whisked down the hall and out of sight. Shota sighed and rubbed his temple, then returned to Seiju's room. They had a long wait ahead of them.

OMG, I am so happy to finish that arc. I mean, I love my psycho villains as much as the next author, but damn it gets tiring after a while! Who knew writing a psycho cannibal would be so exhausting? Anyway, there you go! The last chapter of this arc. Once again, no, it's not the last of the story (we haven't even really gotten to the romancy bits!) or even close to it.

As of now, this is unbeta'd, but I'll have my beta look at it eventually. You may wanna take a read through the previous arc, as there have been some minor but noted changes/additions to the story-line.

Please review! Thanks.

And, because you guys are such neat readers, here's a preview of the next arc.

The woman stood on a street corner, under the feeble light of a street lamp. In one hand, a beat-up old khaki duffle bag dangled from three fingers. She lifted the other to take a long pull off a cigarette, surveying the surrounding street expressionlessly. She blew out a stream of smoke after a moment and stepped off the curb.

When she reached the other side of the street, she dropped the cigarette butt and crushed it underneath her heel, looking up at the old building she now stood in front of. "Home sweet home," she muttered, voice dry. "I'm still not very impressed." She hefted the duffle and slung it over her shoulder, anchoring it with the same three fingers. Then she walked into the building, a hotel, leaving the street empty once more.