"I remembered black skies, the lightning all around me. I remembered each flash as time began to blur. Like a startling sign, fate had finally found me. And your voice was all I heard, that I get what I deserve..."
"New Divide" - Linkin Park.
Lightning flashes and crackles high in the sky above, and the earth whimpers at the loud, explosive expansion of air heated by its discharge. Rain lapses from the soulless, dark clouds, extinguishing lingering fires and washing the dirt and grime from the hollow faces of the dead still littering the streets.
A man looks to the sky beneath the safety of his umbrella and his eyes twinkle with wonder, finding everlasting beauty in the storm. A flash of lightning illuminates the platinum hue of his suit and the pale visage of his hair and skin.
He looks severely out of place, almost angelic as he basks in the aftermath of a massacre. He wanders the battlefield, vaguely searching for any signs of life or a familiar faces, and pauses momentarily when he hears the sound of unmistakable weeping.
Another sound cuts through the air, this time a sharp bark of irritation, possibly reprimanding the individual for their sorrowful snivelling. The man in the white suit peers over a large piece of rubble and sees a group of men standing in a tight circle, surrounding a group of prone individuals before them.
The man in the white suit slithers closer with all the grace and poise of a serpent, his ears straining to hone in on the conversation.
"Stop your bitching," one of the darkly clad members spat, roughly kicking one of his captives in his ribs with a menacing steel toed boot. The boy cries out in pain, curling into himself in an effort to protect his midriff.
"What are we supposed to be doing here?" another voice, feminine and low, demands as she slouches against the piece of rock she's propped up against.
"We're supposed to be waiting for the cops to show and arrest these fuckers." The final member of their little group explains.
The woman's eyes soften slightly, and she glances sympathetically at their hostages. "They're just kids."
"Kids? They weren't kids when they pulled a gun on those civilians. They weren't kids when they shot down that woman who begged for her life, and they certainly aren't kids now." Her superior sneers.
The woman looks away, all means of an argument extinguished.
"Oh, I think blondie here has something to say." The shorter man kneels down beside one of the boys' heads and snatches his gag away from his mouth.
The boy spits out a glob full of blood and dirt. "My father will have your heads!"
The man in the white suit sighs dramatically, instantly recognizing the low, scathing voice of his superior's eldest son. His hand slips inside his pocket and strokes the weapon concealed beneath the fabric of his suit.
He eyes the .44 Magnum in his grasp affectionately, marvelling at the way the flashes of lightning made it dazzle in the moonlight.
Eight bullets in the chamber.
Four shots, four bodies hit the ground simultaneously, four heads blown to smithereens, four lives claimed, and four more names added to the list of the deceased. The boy squeals in horror, smashing his face into the soaked concrete in an effort to wash the pieces of flesh and brain matter from his lips and eyes.
Four bullets in the chamber.
When he opens his eyes again, he's staring at a pair of platinum loafers, which are somehow, despite all of the blood, filth, and rain, are shiny and taintless. Thin, pink lips are pursed in a thin line, achromatic brows furrowed harshly over cold blue eyes. His boyish features are grave.
"Uncle Nagi!" Otori's voice shakes with the weight of his relief and he slithers closer to his father's assistant on his belly, burying his forehead into Nagi's ankle with little to no regard of the pristineness of his suit.
His brothers show similar signs of relief, their eyes shining with gratitude and happiness. However, Nagi held no such emotions. With a swift kick, he sends Otori sliding back into the circle between his brothers, his normally serene and docile features are cold and malicious.
"Such insolence," Nagi sings as he steps forward and cleans his now bloodied boot on the fabric of a dead man's shirt. "To address me as such. Do you think I'm stupid, boy?"
Otori writhes under the agony of his cracked skull, tears and blood mixing with the dirt and grime on his face in a grotesque painting. Nagi looms over them with his left and in his pocket and his right hand clutching his umbrella.
Eren's gag, previously loosened by the rain and his persistent struggling, comes undone. "What are you doing? Father will have you hung for striking a Marguerite!"
Nagi's eyes gleam and his lips stretch into a long, cruel smile. "It would be impossible for a dead man to do such."
Eren's mouth falls open and he splutters, unable to find words.
"Impossible!" Otori growls out painfully, "Our father would never lose to a woman!"
"Oh, but Lord Kruger is no mere woman. I thought you would have figured that out by now." Nagi sighs in exasperation, rubbing his temples to alleviate the gentle throb of a looming headache. "So much like your father, you are. Never using your brain. You know, it's there for a reason."
Nagi turns, as if to leave, and Eren finally finds his tongue. "You can't just leave us here!" He squalls, and trembles under the booming roar of thunder.
Nagi glances at them over his shoulder, contemplating. His hand briefly abandons the safety of his pocket to swipe an errant lock of platinum hair out of his eyes before returning to its original position.
He frowns. "You're absolutely right, silly me."
There were four distinctive bangs that did not come at the hands of the storm brewing above. Four pairs of eyes stare lifelessly in the distance. Four more lives stolen by the paths their owners chose.
"This world does not need to be burdened by your existence any longer." Nagi whispers to his four dead nephews. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "What would your mother think if she saw what you all had become? I merely did the world a favor."
"My sister gave her own life to save you all from the path of destruction for nothing it seems." Nagi says as he turns to leave once more. "You only get what you deserve."
Another bolt of lightning ignites the dark sky, and the man in the white suit wanders the valley of the dead, twirling his pistol around his finger and humming a dark lullaby.
Zero bullets in the chamber.
...
Five weeks, seven days, and fourteen hours.
It's been five weeks, seven days, and fourteen hours since the gang war. Five weeks, seven days, and fourteen hours since they've seen their children and their parents.
Shizuru has healed well during those five weeks, seven days, and fourteen hours under the gentle care of best medical staff in the country. She has regained use of her shoulder and her previously cracked ribs have all but healed.
Her hip, though properly re-located and surgically repaired, has become a disability. She can no longer walk on her own, but now has to rely on the support of a cane and has developed a permanent limp.
Natsuki had been more than supportive during her recovery process. She brought her meals, bathed her, told her jokes, and had even sat through hours of documentaries on biochemistry and genetics.
They were now in the bustling metropolis of Brooklyn, New York, awaiting the arrival of their daughters and their parents. Natsuki did not want Shizuru to have to suffer such a long plane ride from Japan to Brazil, and had opted to spend the next few months on the East Coast while the crisis in Japan died down.
Nao and Nina had decided to start their vacation immediately and were currently vacationing in Honolulu. Yoko and Midori opted to stay near the Krugers and have already leased a condo in Upper Manhattan.
Natsuki anxiously draws open the blinds of their extremely expensive apartment. The place, as usual, is magnificent and situated in a neighborhood brimming with life. There are kids playing in the streets below of all colors and ethnic backgrounds, teenagers crowded around each other, having dance battles or shooting dice.
"How soon will they be arriving?" Shizuru's melodic undertones caress her ear despite the short distance they currently faced. She's sitting on the couch, garbed in an immaculate autumn dress. Her hair is pulled into a messy topknot with errant strands of honey-colored locks framing her divine features.
Natsuki, the tomboy she is and always had been, is dressed in black and white adidas joggers and a simple white shirt. Her hair is tousled, falling over her shoulders in thick waves of obsidian. She turns and pouts at her wife.
"Jabari said that they had landed over thirty minutes ago. They should be here soon." Natsuki explains as she sits on the arm of the couch and reaches for her Oreos. Shizuru strokes her hair lovingly as Natsuki fiddles with her laces.
"What do you think they'll say about your scar?"
Natsuki flashes her a roguish grin as she briefly runs the length of her finger over the raised tissue on her eye. "My father will insist that I inflicted it on myself to show her up. My mother will practically have a heart-attack, and the girls will think I'm a total badass."
Shizuru giggles. "To show her up?"
Natsuki leans over and takes a plump bottom lip between her teeth and sucks on it sensually, craning her neck to the side for better access. "Everything's a competition between us." She whispers on her lips.
Shizuru's hands cup her face and she gently pulls the woman on top of her, careful to not put too much weight on her fragile hip. She presses their foreheads together and stares deep into her beloved's eyes
"It's finally over. We can finally rest." Shizuru says so softly, the words are almost lost in the cool afternoon breeze.
Natsuki smiles sadly as she lays her head on her wife's bosom. It was over for now, but a war often leaves many tired and vulnerable, the perfect opportunity for an attack from another hostile gang. They could ignore it all they want, pretend that it wouldn't happen, but eventually, Natsuki would have to return to the fray.
Japan, as well as the yakuza, will need its lord.
"Gross, get a room. The curtains are open for christ's sake."
Natsuki nearly falls off the couch at the familiar drawl. Her eyes dart to the front door, the place in which the drawl had come from, and she feels her lips stretch into a divine smile. "Dad!" She cries, nine years-old once more as she crosses the barrier between them and flings herself into her father's arms.
RJ's startled at first, not expecting such a display of affection from the feared yakuza lord, but recovers rather quickly and wraps her arms around her only child's shoulders. Her mother rushes forward and joins the embrace, followed by the twins.
The weight of all the combined forces causes RJ to topple over and they all crash onto the floor. The twins are quick to embrace their mother, who sits on the couch, fondly watching the display. She wraps her arms tightly around their necks, feeling tears spill over her eyelids as her resolve shatters.
"Wait, where's Namiko?" Natsuki demands, making a show of lifting up her father's long mane of hair as if the child was strapped to her back.
RJ points to the doorway, where a familiar duo stands with Namiko cradled in the crook of his arm. Natsuki lets out a laugh, a wild, carefree, joyous laugh.
"Uhm, hello. Where's my hug?" Reito says as he opens his arms expectantly. Tate nods in agreement as he tries to mirror Namiko's signature pout.
"What are you guys doing here?" Natsuki asks as she releases the two men, and pulls Namiko close to her chest.
"Pride, duh. Do you like, not watch the news?" Tate says. "I live here too, remember?"
Reito frowns at his boyfriend. "Don't you mean we live here?"
"Uhm, you don't pay rent. It's my condo."
Natsuki quickly steps away from the men and returns to her wife and twins. Namiko makes a desperate noise in Natsuki's arms and tries to crawl her way to her mother. Shizuru takes her baby girl with a tearful smile and squeezes her tightly, burying her nose into her dark hair.
"Ugh, never leave me alone with those two and gramps again!" Kaiya sniffles, leaning heavily into Natsuki's embrace.
RJ rolls her eyes. "She's too much like your mother. It's all, 'don't do donuts in the parking lot' or 'wash your hands after you eat too' with them!"
"Savage." Saeko says with a mocking glare.
The younger couple are overjoyed. It shows through their tears, their smiles, and their laughter. They kiss and hug and touch whoever is in reach, smothering them with overdue affection. Natsuki notices that, though Keira's eyes are still only half-lit, she's gained some weight and her hair has regained some of its natural shine.
With Tomoe erased from existence, she hopes her eldest daughter will be able to heal.
The door squeaks open again and there's a momentary lapse. Natsuki's most trusted advisor steps through, her white hair gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. A rare ghost of a smile is formed on her lips as she bows to the patrons and address her lord.
"I have done as you asked." Miyu announces, her gaze flickering between Natsuki and her mother. She steps to the side, beckoning whoever else was standing outside into the complex inside.
"Natsuki, what's going on?" Her mother asks slowly, knowing her daughter is full of surprises. Natsuki rises from the couch with a small, satisfied smile on her face.
"I told you that I would make sure no harm came to them by sending my best fighters to ensure their safety. Miyu here, is worth more than a thousand soldiers. And she is true to her word, as always."
"Natsuki…" Saeko trails off uncertainly, but as a shadow falls over the doorway and they step in, her mouth falls open and her eyes shine with unshed tears. She breaks away from the pack and flings herself into his arms, much like Natsuki had done with Regan.
John and Alyssa Searrs clutch the formerly missing woman with mixtures of desperation and relief. They had not heard from her in five weeks, seven days, and fourteen hours. Natsuki cleared her throat, smirking mischieviously.
"I had Miyu bring them here as soon as the battle began." Natsuki explains, "They've been here for five weeks, fourteen days, and seven hours, waiting for you."
"Natsuki…" Natsuki holds her hand up, halting all shows of gratitude her mother was bound to smother her with.
"There's nothing to thank me for. You love them very much, that much I know." Natsuki's smirk transitioned into a genuine smile as she glanced at the petite blonde woman with wild hair. "Besides, I've always wanted a sister."
Alyssa slowly breaks away from the embrace and approaches Natsuki with all the caution a small dog might do a larger one. Her frosty blue eyes scan her older sister's features and attire intensely, as if she were trying to determine what kind of person Natsuki was.
She flashes a bold smile. "I thought you'd be more… menacing."
Natsuki's eyes gleam at the unspoken challenge. "I thought you'd be taller."
"I think we'll get along great," Alyssa beams, "As long as you don't try to shoot me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Natsuki reassures her baby sister, "It'd be a waste of ammo."
While the newly found sisters banter, Saeko turns to John and opens her mouth to let out a string of apologies, but once again, she finds herself clamping her mouth shut at the raising of a hand.
John's eyes are sad and he looks like he's lost a ton of weight. He isn't as muscular as he was before and his hair is tangled and overgrown. He's sporting a beard and premature bags have developed under his slate blue eyes, but his smile is absolutely genuine.
"You don't have to say anything, Saeko," He whispers softly, caressing her cheek. "I know you love me, but I also know it isn't the love you convinced yourself it was for twenty one years. I knew then, when I met you, that your heart belonged to another, but still I persisted."
He pauses to smile sheepishly at RJ, who raises an eyebrow expectantly. "I knew you wouldn't be able to love me like you loved her, but I was willing to take that chance, any chance it would take to make you mine. You were just so beautiful, so mesmerizing, and so smart, I just couldn't resist."
"Yeah, she trapped me too, bro." RJ says sympathetically, and winced as her daughter roughly elbowed her in the ribs.
"It hurts, honestly, to know the only thing you want in life you cannot have. But I do know one thing." John continues as he swipes away the tears streaming from Saeko's cheeks. "I want you to be happy, whether it's with me or not, I want you to be happy. And I can see that it's here, with them." He gestures to the occupants gathered in the living room, blushing and quickly averting his gaze when Reito waves suggestively at him.
"With her."
Saeko nods, smiling softly as she throws her arms around her husband's neck, tangling her fingers into his long blonde hair. She pulls back briefly to give him a final, lingering kiss. "You are a phenomenal man, John Searrs, and one day you will find the woman who will fight tooth and claw for you."
John's eyes light up slightly and he squeezes his soon-to-be-former-wife's waist once more before turning his attention to RJ and Natsuki. He smiles, holding out his hand to the elder Kruger. "Truce?"
RJ studies the hand intently, her features expressionless and calculating. Finally, after a few more seconds of suspenseful contemplation, she grips the man's hand with a roguish, dazzling grin. "Truce."
He turns his attention to Natsuki and offers him her hand. She doesn't take nearly as long as her father to take it. "I heard you like motorcycles. We should race sometime."
"Your funeral." The woman replies, her grin a mirror image of her father's.
John takes Shizuru's hand a presses a flattering kiss on the back of it.
"You're pushing it, pal." Natsuki warns, though her voice holds no real malice. As the introductions continue, Alyssa takes the opportunity to break away from the cheesy scene to stride over to Miyu.
"Thank you." She breathes, feeling slightly intimidated of Miyu's strange beauty.
A single red eye snaps open. "For?"
Alyssa smiles and blushes like a schoolgirl, and in a bold display of affection, she latches around Miyu's waist. Miyu, stunned, momentarily, does nothing but blink rapidly and look around for any stray eyes. She ought to remove the girl, but there's something about this tiny, wild-haired woman that makes her relax slightly and awkwardly pat her head.
You are welcome, she thinks.
"Okay, enough of that," RJ says, "I can't be the only one who needs a drink?"
"Now it's a party!" Reito says as he and Tate slither up behind John, each taking an arm. "Do you know how to play the Shiznat drinking game?"
"Uhm, no?"
Reito's smile grows wider, and John feels dread beginning to creep up on him as he was led to the kitchen. "We'll teach you." Reito promises.
Saeko kisses Regan on the cheek. "I love you." She says, moving to her lips.
"I love you too."
Shizuru watches her dysfunctional family of misfits interact, feeling her heart constrict with love and affection. Their lives were by no means easy and they had to suffer in order to attain such happiness. The streets weren't made for everybody, but she supposes that's why they made sidewalks. Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you have decided to look beyond the imperfections.
Natsuki caught her eye during the momentary lapse of her and Alyssa's conversation, and gave her a dazzling smile and a conspiratory wink.
And Shizuru Viola-Kruger is happy beyond comparison.
...
All good things come to an end right?
Perhaps, but out of good things come even greater things, because a sequel and a prequel is in the making! So many unanswered questions! Where's Nagi? What happened to Skye? Will Japan ever recover? Will Namiko develope her mother's gentle nature, her mom's firecracker personality, or her grandfather's loveable, yet exasperating antics?
How many reviews will this final chapter receive?
...That question may not have been necessary, but can you really blame me? That 1k would've made my existence worthy… I'm rambling, sorry.
Chapter inspired by Raphael Lake and Ben Fisher's Do You Feel Alive? Goodnight, good-luck, and I'll see you all in due time!
Smoke and Mirrors.
