Mercy

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By: Ryoko

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Track 00:02:00

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"Kid, kid, kid, kid, kid, kid, KID! That's all I ever GET from you guys! Jesus Christ!" Omi growled, slamming his fists onto the nearest wall. "God damn it! I'm almost SIXTEEN! Isn't that old enough for you to stop referring to me as KID?"

"Whoa, whoa! Slow down! Calm down Omi-kun!" Ken reached a hand out to pull the boy's down from the new crater in the wall.

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" he thrashed out again, nearly hitting Ken in the jaw as he turned and ran for his room.

"What'd you two do to him THIS time?" he scratched his head, watching the teenager fly up the stairs.

"I DIDN'T do it." Aya turned back to the TV. (Strange huh? Him . . . watching TV . . . THAT'S disturbing and unusual *I wonder what he'd watch? X-files maybe? Or Buffy? * . . . )

"He wanted my credit card number to buy something off of the computer . . . I told him he'd have to wait until he was old enough to get his own. THEN I think I called him a kid . . . but I didn't expect him to go all bitchy on me. Sheesh!" Yohji grumbled, kicking his feet up on the arm of the soft chair and relaxing into the leather, while staring blankly at the TV like the redhead a few feet away.

"Well, YOU two aren't much help . . . aren't you gonna go and at least TALK to him?"

"In that mood he's in? Heh, you're joking, right? It'd go in ONE ear and out the OTHER."

"Oh man . . . you know . . . I just don't understand you. Have you no sympathetic side for the kid?"

"Ha! See? There you go! You called him a kid too!" the blonde jumped from the chair, poking Ken in the arm, making fun of him in his own way.

"Thanks a lot, Yohji. I really needed you to point that out, ya know!" the younger assassin pouted, glaring at the ceiling.

***

"Okay, so maybe I WAS a little childish, going off the handle like that . . . but still . . . why do they still call me a damn kid? I hate it. And they KNOW I hate it, more than anything. So . . . why do they keep doing it?" He sank off of the bed onto the carpeted floor, wrapping his arms around his knees, which he pulled tightly to his chest.

He wasn't ready to cry, but his heart was ready to rip itself out. Every time the others put him down like that, unintentionally, it made him feel worse and worse, somewhat driving him to his breaking point. He never expected to explode, the way he did, downstairs. Good thing only those three saw him do that. If it had been in the shop, or while Manx or whoever was there, he would've been humiliated even more than he could even imagine.

The feeling of helplessness stabbed at him again, making him shiver and bow his head down to his knees, forcing back a small stream of tears.

"Yeah, so what if I'm the youngest? There's no excuse. They treat me like a damn CHILD. Only a few years until I'm twenty! C'mon! Ken's only, like, what, three or four years older than me? So how come Yohji and Aya don't call HIM a kid? He's still a teenager! GAH! It just isn't fair!" he groaned, standing at last and turning to the window.

It was so dark out, so dark . . . and quiet. It was somewhat cool, but not cold, and the full moon made the streets almost look like the sun was out.

I'll wait until they're all asleep, then I'll make my escape.

Suddenly, a wave of uneasiness washed over him.

Running away? Wasn't something like that under even HIS level? No- it was a means of escape from what was- into was is to be. He could survive easily out there, and at the same time, he could prove his worth. It would be a good way to hone his skills in survival. Running away could be one of the ways he'd show how grown-up he was. He could show them just how independent he could be. As if become an assassin wasn't proof enough. This was probably the only opportunity he'd GET to prove himself to them, even if it killed him in the process.

Figuring it'd be awhile before the others went to sleep, he withdrew from his room, locking himself in the bathroom and drowning out his fears and angers with a hot shower. He stood there in silence, closing his eyes and mentally picturing his escape route.

From the shop, he could easy travel alongside the alleyways until he came upon somewhere to stay for the night. From there, as soon as night fell, he would make his way, by foot, to the port city, maybe somewhere in Osaka. With the money he'd been saving up for his car, he could afford several weeks worth of food. It was a lot more than maybe 45,000 yen . . . so it'd be easy to live off of for a while. And when worse came to worse, and he lost the money, somehow, he could always find a good wooded area to go hunting. If it came down to it, he could steal as well.

So everything would be pretty easy if he left. Of course, he'd have to worry about the other three finding him, especially with their tracking skills and all. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he looked around, listening intently for any sound: nothing but silence.

Seeing that all of their bedroom doors were closed, Omi guess that they'd finally went to sleep, and moved, with the stealth of a cat, to his own room.

Not bothering to turn on the light, he moved to the closet, pulling out his assassin's clothing, but not the gear, hat, or gloves, and darker sneakers, which he's worn to school on occasion.

After suiting up, like a soldier for battle, he reached under his mattress for the small pouch of money; his savings for the car he'd never get.

***

Without looking back, he locked the shop's side door behind him, and started off . . . into the unknown.

Where he was going, what he was searching for, what he was looking to accomplish . . . it was all a blur. But one fact was for sure, now: He was free. All he had to depend on, now, was himself, and nobody else.

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