Caught in the Rain
By: Minuiko
A/N Hehe . . . glad you liked the first chapter. Even if I got much less reviews than for my other stories . . . I didn't expect this pairing to get much, anyways. Yes, I did modify the first chapter, quite a lot, you should see it if you haven't already . . . the first version was, more or less, not the feel I was going for. It wasn't quite angsty enough.
I might modify this chapter too if it doesn't turn out right. See, I'm more of a comedy/romance writer than an angst/romance one, so my angst turns out really crappy . . . good for a humor story, bad for an angst one. I'm trying, I honestly am! A good story is one that'll make you crack up with laughter (thus making your mother think you're high on something), feel all fluttery in your stomach (or maybe that could be from the flu everyone's been catching), or start sobbing your heart out on a very bewildered/creeped out friend's shoulder (who will do the same as soon as you show him/her the story). Or it should make you want to print out every page so you can read it over and over in your free time (I would do that, if it weren't for the amount of paper it wastes). And I can't do any of those to my readers . . . Well, I should stop ranting and get on with the "goods", huh.
P.S. I am aware that I made quite a few mistakes in my last chapter, as in typos and such . . . but I'm too lazy to fix them.
Chapter Two: The Accused and the Recluse
Hagiri's POV
I heard the ambulance. The "worried" doctors. They were taking Mitarai's limp, severely bleeding body to the hospital. And I was just watching from the rooftop, my heart suddenly leaden with disgust and partial fear. I didn't shoot him. I didn't shoot Mitarai. Sensui must've known, or else he wouldn't have sent the rest of the gang, and especially him, that sniveling, black shadow of a man that we knew as "the Crow," after Mitarai. I was no longer the "ultimate assassin."
Yet I knew that I had to face Sensui. Face him or be murdered in a "natural disaster" such as a fire or an earthquake . . . Just like my sister . . . And no one would mourn me. Especially not Mitarai, whom I had always thought to be a rather disgustingly good-hearted person before the other kids started picking on him.
Pulling my red jacket closer to my body, out of instinct rather that cold, I thought of when to confront him. Tonight? Tomorrow? Or his next murder case for me? Fuck it, why did I work for him in the first place?
There was no need to think. I felt a shiver up my spine at the cold voice that slithered over me. "You missed your target for once, Sniper."
I stared back at the cold black eyes that were looking so calmly, so casually at me. I was not panicking, however. The worst he could do to me was kill me. And I had faced death in the eye before. "I don't think it counts, Sensui, when I didn't even pull the trigger."
"You hesitated. Although I can't say I was surprised, seeing as you did tell the boy of our plans. A good thing he didn't believe you, though."
Sensui's thin mouth curled into an ironic smile. "Really, you're getting too soft. Too soft for me to keep you any longer. You'll die with no one knowing your real name, with everyone rejoicing the fall of you, the nameless murderer slash assassin."
Really, like I didn't know that. And what was the difference between murderer and assassin? "If it's a fight you want, then I'm game."
Sensui looked mock-surprised. "Why, I'm shocked at you, Sniper. I'd have thought that you knew my style by now . . . Don't you remember your old friend Toguro?"
Yeah, sure I did. He had more brains that most people gave him credit for. But people were more taken by his bulging muscles, except for that midget of a vixen he hung around with; I think her name was Genkai or something. If he was the one who was supposed to "kill" me, then my death would be "honored" indeed. Then again, why would I give a shit as to how I died?
"All because I let some dumb kid go. You should get a life."
"I have one. And you're about to go out of yours. I'll see you around in the afterlife . . . Sniper."
He sauntered away with his usual elegant stride on those irregularly long legs. And I could make out a gigantic, freakishly muscular body in the shadows. In spite of myself, I could feel a trickle of cold sweat roll down my cheek. Toguro in himself was a force to be reckoned with; his immunity to bullets could very well prove the truth of Sensui's words. Bastard.
And the muscle-bound adult prodigy of today was here! Sunglasses and all. He was not smiling, like he used to. I guess this must've been a pretty serious case. And why the fuck was I sweating?! It wasn't as if I cared about my own life . . .
I was grinning coolly at the much larger figure before me. "Well, rumor has it that you're nearly invincible to all kinds of weapons. Care to test that theory?"
There was no answer, but I wasn't about to back down. No, not me. Not Kaname Hagiri. Never again.
Shuuichi's POV
I open the door, my face genuinely surprised. Yes, it was my reclusive friend, Hiei, looking very indifferent as always. But he must've had something important to tell me, if he actually rang the doorbell to come over. He usually just climbed in through my bedroom window.
"Shuuichi, who is that?"
"Just a friend, mother!"
She was walking out, a slight limp in her walk. I rested my hands on her fragile shoulders, reassuringly, I hoped. "Now mother, you shouldn't get up, the doctor wanted you to get at least another week of rest before you got on with your normal life."
I was being serious, but she was smiling as though I had made a joke, and, taking a peek behind me, she saw a glaring Hiei, exclaiming, "He looks like he's in junior high! How old is he?"
I sighed. "Mother, he's in the same class as me."
She sighed as well, only this time coughing a little bit. "I know, I know, Shuuichi. But I haven't seen him around before . . . and you two seem so . . . that is to say, he seems familiar with the house, and . . ."
What should I tell her? That he rarely used the front door, and that he came through my window every night? But I didn't want to lie to her. I never had. Hiei cut in, his famous glare as patronizing as ever, "Listen, woman, I'm just here to deliver him a message, and then I'll scram, 'kay?"
I whisper gently to my mother, "He has no parents, so you can't blame him for how he is. Please, mother, get some rest."
This wasn't the real reason why Hiei was how he was, although it did partially account for it. He had been a lot less reclusive before he joined that gang against my warning . . . Mother nodded. It was a good thing she knew me so well, and that she respected me. I tried to grin at Hiei, which was hard to do, given the fact that his glare still pasted securely on his face. As soon as she left, he plopped himself on my couch, very, as my mother had said, like a junior high kid.
"Kurama," he started, using my alias, "this is about the gang I'm recently in . . ."
I don't smile. This couldn't be good news, and besides that . . . it had completely altered Hiei's personality. He doesn't look at me and continues, "You have an upcoming tennis match in two weeks, correct?"
It was rhetorical, but I answer anyways. "Yes, against last year's anonymous champion."
Yes. His alias was Seaman. I had no clue as to his identity, of course, but I had witnessed his last game last year. He was really spectacular. He was still not looking at me. How come? "Seaman was nearly killed tonight."
I bolt up straight. "What? Are you sure? I mean . . . how do you even know who Seaman is?"
His laughter was dry, terse. "The entire gang knows it. The ringleader has a personal grudge against him. I didn't witness the actual beating, I just know that he was stabbed fifteen times and beat continually. He is," Hiei added, "still alive, of course, although I have no idea as to how."
I sat back down, brushing my bangs away from my eyes, not that it helped; it was a matter of habit. My hand was shaking. "Who is he?"
"His name is Mitarai. The kid who can't get to class without getting beaten on? The one who looks too scrawny to carry over ten pounds? Him."
I was quivering now. I knew him. I had offered to help him several times, but he always refused. I offered to talk to Yusuke Urameshi (his most constant bully) for him. He refused. He was either very strong mentally or very stubborn. But he was still weak physically. And his confidence was extremely fragile, easily crushed. How could these men do something like that to a helpless kid, especially one that was as discouraged as Mitarai? I had to help. "Where is he?"
Hiei lounged on the couch. "Isn't that just like you, Kurama?"
"Answer me, Hiei. Please."
His frown didn't leave his face, but he answered earnestly enough. "He's in the local hospital. He'll likely land the front page of the newspaper tomorrow, if he doesn't die first of blood loss."
"Thank you."
Grabbing my jacket, I rushed out the door. I did not want to—couldn't—win a contest by default. Especially one where my opponent was as excellent a tennis player like Mitarai was. One where I didn't even deserve the championship.
Mitarai's POV
God . . . so cold . . . my head felt numb, and I could feel the presence of wires piercing through my flesh . . . right to the bone . . . or maybe that was just the fact that there were numerous cuts and bruises on me.
A man was hovering over me, a woman was sobbing. Uh huh. Like they cared. No one did. They probably only have me in the hospital so that they could earn money. Like the greedy humans they are. A doctor was looking at me, his short-cropped, dark brown hair falling lightly above his eyes. He was wearing glasses and a white lab coat, but then again, didn't all the doctors? He was questioning me.
I could make out some of the words. "Who attacked you, boy?"
At least I think that was what he said. I was shivering audibly, and I thought I heard a nurse scolding him for interrogating me before the medicine worked, or something. But it was a fair question. And I was striving through my memory . . .
". . . h-he . . . had . . . he . . . purple eyes." That was the truth. It was the slim man who had been talking, who had told me about Mr. Sensui. He was fairly tall, taller than me, at least, and his thin eyes were cold . . . a below absolute-zero degree temperature, but they were distinctly violet . . . almost like Sniper's, but uglier, sharper . . .
He had pale skin, too, but I could hardly say that, when I was too weak to even move. I could make out short syllables, though. "Black hair . . ."
That, too, could refer to Sniper, whose silky bangs fell against his forehead like . . . like . . . I didn't know. My side hurt terribly. And so did my chest, which was heaving up and down . . . I had trouble breathing, and I was aware of my crimson blood leaking onto the sheets . . . and . . . it was getting foggy again, although this time it could've been from the drugs the doctors gave me . . . For the second time in one day, I lost all consciousness.
.:Owari:.
Well, can you guess what happens? Yes, Kurama is going to try and help, but fail . . . And just try to guess Sniper's fate. It has to do with something in this chapter, I'll tell you that . . .
I have NO IDEA why I used Toguro, but . . . oh well. Yes, I WILL update Change of Body . . . hopefully by this Sunday . . . and . . . yeah. Tell me if it's not angsty enough, because I'm still not satisfied . . .
I might put in a bit of Kurama/Hiei, and possibly Itsuki/Sensui, but I'm not promising anything. I think up ideas as I type, ya know!
Well, that's it. Review! Ja ne!
Minu-sama
