'A friend of mine's having the most horrible time, oniisan! Someone killed her father and her brother took an overdose the evening after the funeral… apparently it's the third time he's been in hospital in the last six months, and the second time he's tried to kill himself! Isn't that just awful? I don't know what to say... I feel so bad for her.'
Serika had said it in all innocence. She hadn't meant anything by it but what she said - don't you feel sorry for Madoka too? - but if she'd been paying more attention she would have noticed the effect it had on Koji.
Last night it had been a girl. Her name was Aya. Izumi had been playing with her. Koji, by and large, had just watched. He didn't like it much, hadn't wanted to do it. As a matter of fact he didn't like any of it much any more, he never really had in the first place and now… he hated it, he really hated it, but he didn't know how to say so. The girl had died only a couple of hours ago. He had wondered how Serika Izumi, age seventeen - Kimie's age - would have reacted to being told she was sharing a flat with a dead woman at the moment, a woman her brother had helped kill.
"Do you know her well?" Izumi asked, a seemingly meaningless question.
Why indeed? Koji didn't know.
But could you really have described the Shibuyas as a nice family? Poor, crazy Katsumi qualified, so by the sounds of it did his sister, but from what Koji had seen of the father - and his acquaintance with the man had been mercifully brief - he was, to put it mildly, disagreeable. He wouldn't have believed the things that man had said if he hadn't heard them himself. No wonder Katsumi had reacted the way he had over Takafumi. No wonder he'd attempted suicide. It took a certain type of person to call a rape victim a slut.
Then again Koji supposed it took a certain type of person to believe that you'd be doing someone a favour by killing their father.
***
One of the things Takafumi liked about having a ridiculously diligent boyfriend who went to all the same classes as he did was that if he didn't want to concentrate in lectures he didn't have to. Keisuke would be writing it all down anyway. Instead he sat still, his head resting in his hands, and tried to think.
Right, things to do at the weekend. He had to go shopping again. There was something he'd wanted to buy. First off he still had to check on that damn textbook which sure was taking its own sweet time to show up, secondly he had to get a new red t-shirt to replace the one he'd managed to comprehensively ruin by spilling coffee down it. He'd have to ask Katsumi…
Katsumi.
Christ. He kept forgetting about Katsumi. Funny how you take people for granted. It was probably only because the boy had been living with him for so long now that he just assumed he'd be around, but of course he wasn't. It probably didn't help that most of his junk was still in the spare room. Not that he needed that where he was - still in hospital, a danger to himself if he wasn't watched.
I believe the technical term for it is 'insane'.
It had been a shock to hear about his father. Takafumi had never liked the guy much but he hadn't deserved what had happened to him - hell, nobody deserved that. Except perhaps Koji. Great, there was another thing he hadn't wanted to think about. He hoped it was a normal and healthy reaction to want to kill someone who'd raped you. Keisuke, damn that annoying, persuasive, ludicrously cute little bastard, had absolutely insisted that they 'talk about it'. He'd probably read somewhere that it was an effective way of dealing with trauma. He'd wanted him to go and see a student counsellor as well but Takafumi had said an emphatic no way. If he was going to 'talk about it' with anyone it would be with someone who actually had a right to know how he felt.
On the subject of feelings, apparently Katsumi wasn't talking. To anybody. Either he didn't want to or he didn't feel able to or he just couldn't find the words for how he was feeling. Maybe there weren't any words for how he was feeling. Maybe there just weren't any words. He'd practically had a complete mental breakdown at the funeral; two and a half weeks ago now. Apparently he hadn't said a word since he was admitted to hospital. Once upon a time Katsumi had been the most talkative person Takafumi knew. The saddest thing was that it wasn't even that surprising.
None of it was surprising, really. Poor kid. Katsumi hadn't deserved it. None of them had.
"Takafumi? Is something wrong?"
Keisuke merely raised an eyebrow and turned back to his notes. He could tell when Takafumi was lying, but he could also tell when not to force the issue.
***
"Kai?"
Kimie was just thankful his parents had gone out somewhere - he didn't know where. As usual they'd asked him if he wanted to come, as usual he'd said no and as usual they hadn't forced the issue. But they wouldn't have understood this at all. As far as they knew he didn't have friends that looked like this. He'd once had a few at school. Once. And nobody he'd met casually whilst out of an evening had been the kind of person he'd give his address to.
So how, he wondered, did Kai Kurosaki know it?
"I thought you worked Saturdays." Kimie said lamely.
He's nervous as hell, Kai thought. Not a good start. Still, he had to remember what kind of person it was he was dealing with. Last time this boy had gone out properly - which, admittedly, was months ago - someone had tried to kill him. It's no real wonder that he's nervous.
He could hear Kimie closing a cupboard drawer in the living room and walked into the doorway to see what he was doing. Whatever it was, he stopped and looked up at Kai when he heard his footsteps, and smiled at him, albeit as edgily as he had laughed.
"What should I put?"
Kimie knew from experience that his parents didn't like getting notes like that but, he supposed, this time they might not mind that much. They might even be relieved that he was acting a little more like himself as opposed to spending all his free time in his room.
In the end he wrote that he was going to see a friend. His parents hadn't noticed that he didn't have any proper friends at the moment.
***
The view from the living room window was being treated with far more reverence than it actually merited. Kimie, leaning on the back of one of Kai's chairs, was gazing intently out at the rainy streets, occasionally giggling slightly. He liked to watch the rain falling, especially at night, when the raindrops falling past the streetlamps were illuminated, looking like little shooting stars. It was pretty. The night was pretty. But it was nicer not to have to be out in it, especially not whilst it was raining this heavily. It rained so much at the moment…
"Kai," Kimie said, looking at the older man over one shoulder, "that's got to be the ugliest looking cat I have ever seen in my whole entire life." He spoke in a totally deadpan manner, only starting to giggle when he reached the end of the sentence.
Kai had already known that Kimie couldn't handle his drink very well. But it had been the only way he could think of that would mean Kimie would even countenance coming back home with him. Not that he wanted to do anything untoward to him… well, not much, anyway… and the last time he'd spoken to him the boy had flipped when he touched him. Yes, that'd been the day he'd gotten in touch with Nanjo again, hadn't it? The man - well, not Nanjo himself, obviously, but someone close to him though - had told him to find out what he could but to 'take it slowly'.
Hence Kimie Mori.
Or, at least, that was how Kai rationalised it to himself. It wasn't just that of course. Kimie was… well, there was just something about him. He was interested in him as more than just a means to an end. He was an interesting kid, but Kai couldn't have said why he thought that. Then again, Kai was drunk too.
Sighing, he slumped further down into the sofa cushions and wondered what to do now. Normally he'd have made a move on whoever it was he'd brought back to his flat a long time ago. He normally had one aim in mind when he brought people back to his flat.
"You bored?" Kimie asked, sitting down heavily next to him, having tired of staring at the rain and his hideous cat.
Kai wasn't sure he liked the atmosphere in the room any more. The last thing he needed was for Kimie to start getting reflective. He was trying to get the kid to relax a bit so the last thing he wanted him to do was think.
So he decided to distract him.
***
"Don't… just… just don't do it any more… please."
"I don't need this," Kai muttered under his breath. This was stupid, just stupid. Okay, he hadn't thought. Okay, maybe it had been a bit premature. But this was completely out of proportion to anything he'd done. He'd never had anyone get hysterical on him because he'd tried to make out with them. And Kimie had seemed to like it when he'd kissed him, so… where the hell had all this come from?
For a couple of minutes he just stood there staring out of the window, covertly watching Kimie in the glass, trying to work out if he was getting any calmer. The boy seemed to be attempting to settle down again; he no longer seemed so out of control, but he still seemed wary, his posture was still defensive. It looked like it was going to be one of those nights, one of the nights he hated, one of those times where there's nothing to do but talk, even though you don't know what to say or if you want to know what it is that's going to be said. Just breaking the silence would be hard enough.
"T… that cat's back," Kimie said finally, dropping his gaze when Kai turned back from the window to look directly at him again. "'s not yours, is it?"
Kimie looked at his hands, at the scars running across his fingers and palms, and sighed deeply and audibly. Slowly, he traced his left index finger along one of the thin raised lines - Kai noticed him shiver slightly, unconsciously, before holding both hands out to him, palms upwards.
"Do you think they're very ugly?" he asked, suddenly sounding extremely young.
Miya had done that. She'd gone on and on about her body. Miya had known she was attractive but she'd spoken as if she wasn't. The way she'd preened when people reassured her that she was pretty, slim, funny and all the rest of it had really gotten on Kai's nerves after a while. Still it probably wasn't fair to compare Kimie to Miya, he probably didn't mean it in quite the same way. It was probably because of what happened to him…
Speaking of which…
Kai went and sat down on the sofa again, attempting whilst so doing to keep a respectable distance away from Kimie. The boy had gone very quiet again - not a good sign. But it was one of those nights where all you can do is just keep talking until whatever it is that's been left unsaid is finally out in the open.
"What's up, kid?"
He was crying now, quietly. The kind of thing that's painful to watch. Kai didn't really know what to say but he knew, pretty much, what to do, it had always worked for him before. Kimie didn't try to resist when Kai pulled him against his chest. Has parents hadn't understood, nor had the people at school. At least Kai didn't seem to think it was his fault. Of course none of them had actually said it but he'd known it. Why weren't you more careful? He'd had nobody to talk to, nobody…
"Ssh. It's okay. Cry if you want to."
When Kai was angry, normally, superficially angry, it showed. When he was enraged it didn't show at all. If anything he looked serene and in a way he was. He knew what it was he wanted to do, what it was he had to do. Somebody, somewhere had to know the bastard who'd done this and when Kai caught up with him he'd make sure that he never did it to anybody else ever again.
He sat on the sofa holding Kimie in his arms, stroking the boy's hair, murder on his mind.
Part 13