A/N - And almost a month later I finally update. I think now that I've gotten a good start on this I can get back to writing Verda. I have up to chapter seven of this story completed, so it will continue to be updated. Kudos to all of you who noticed the subtle things I threw in here.
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Part Four - The Jackal
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On the importance of not walking alone in dark alleys at night.
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She swayed on her feet as she exited the store and stared up into the bottomless sky. Twilight had settled over the city, and only the dregs of a blazing sunset could be seen on the fringes of the horizon. The stars were visible now, and the streets were wonderfully empty. The night was cold and bleak, but she felt surprisingly warm and comfortable. Everything was pleasantly peaceful in that moment, and she wished she could keep it forever.
If she could just remember him, she wouldn't have to remember anything else. She wouldn't have to remember that she was sixteen years old and engaged to marry a man ten years older than her who rarely paid her any attention. She wouldn't have to remember that she hadn't seen her parents since she was eight, and she had no idea if they were even alive. She wouldn't have to remember that she was the only girl in her school who wasn't allowed to date, because Mr. And Mrs. Oikawa wouldn't allow it. Not that any boy would be interested in her anyway, but the option would have been nice.
She couldn't explain why she was so drawn to that man. He was easy on the eyes that was for sure, but that couldn't have been all of it. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. Yurkio hardly ever looked at her, and when he did, he never looked at her the way that man had. That man looked at her as if what he was seeing was something utterly amazing, and it made her feel like the most beautiful woman alive. She knew that she was probably just another nameless customer to him, and he'd probably forget all about her by tomorrow, but that didn't mean she couldn't pretend like he wouldn't.
She was so absorbed in her own private bliss that she didn't notice the stranger in front of her until she nearly bumped into him. He was standing inconspicuously in the shadows where the lamplit main walk met a narrow alley. She was so startled by his sudden appearance that she jumped and took a step back. Only to collide rather surprisingly with something rigidly solid.
The thick arm of the second stranger snaked swiftly around her stomach before she could react, knocking all the wind from her. Another hand flew over her mouth, stifling her shriek of surprise. She struggled, but it was like wrestling with a concrete boa constrictor. The harder she fought, the tighter his grip became, until she was certain she'd no longer be able to breathe. The man she'd nearly ran into just smiled like a jackal, as if her plight was some form of hilarious entertainment. She couldn't see what he looked like in the hazy dark, but his leering teeth glittered like pearls in the moonlight.
Whoever was holding her, hoisted her off her feet as if she weighed little more than a sack of flour and dragged her into the complete darkness of the alley. Only the faint scuffling sounds of her struggle and her small, strangled whimper could be heard. She knew it wasn't enough to alert anyone who might be nearby. She had to make more noise somehow, but it was impossible to scream when she had to fight just to breathe.
All thoughts were temporarily banished from her head when her captor slammed her into a grimy alley wall. Stars exploded in the backs of her eyes like thousands of flashbulbs. A terrible black, swirling, twinge was ricocheting around in her head. With a cry of pain, her knees buckled beneath her, and she slumped into a motionless heap in his arms. When her vision became clear and focused again, she realized the alley was not as empty as she thought. There were at least five men surrounding her now, blocking off all her exits.
Trembling, she struggled more fervently against the man holding her still, but she was weakened by the blow to her head and her movements were uncoordinated. She clutched her purse tighter under her arm, and sunk her teeth into the vulnerable meat between his thumb and forefinger. At the same time she was also able to drive one of her sharp heels into his foot. He roared in outrage and released her mouth long enough for her to scream, a deeply satisfying scream that resounded shrilly in the night air. A scream that she regretted in the next instant, even though it would end up saving her life.
"Bitch!" A fist connected hard with her jaw, and she went down.
She collapsed onto the snow-covered pavement and winced as shards of broken glass bit into her freezing palms. Burning currents of pain rocketed up her spine and blurred her thoughts. Someone began to pry her purse away from her while more hands worked to remove her shoes from her feet. She kicked desperately and curled herself into a tight ball around her purse, but she was losing the will to fight back. She tasted acrid blood in her mouth, metallic and salty.
In the end she was no match for the five of them, and soon she was battered, bruised and completely divested of her coat, shoes, and purse, and just when she thought it was finally over, the real fun began. Once their loot was taken, it seemed that they were through with her, but the one who'd been holding her up against the wall by her hair was peering at her intently. The position was rather painful, and she was beginning to squirm, causing something to light up in his eyes.
"Hey, guys," He called in a voice ravaged by cigarette smoke, "She ain't so bad looking either."
"But look at her eyes man," One of them warily made a sign against evil, "That ain't right. I think we ought to split while we still have our souls."
"Nah," Another retorted, "She's just Oikawa's little French whore. I've seen her before."
"Oikawa?" The jackal man who'd smiled at her on the street stopped in his tracks and spun around, white-hot rage burning in his eyes, "That miserable bastard! She's his?"
There was a chorus of affirmatives from the gang. Natsuko knew without being told that this had just condemned her. It was completely pointless to argue that she was actually engaged to their son, who as of yet, hadn't dealt with any criminals. It was most likely the senior Oikawa that had cheated them, but if she said this, they'd never buy it. Why did the Oikawas have to have so many enemies?
She heard some scattered murmurs of excitement from the others, and then the jackal, who was clearly the ringleader turned back to look her over hungrily. It was then that she began to wish she hadn't chosen to wear a skirt. A skirt that was currently hiked up high on her thighs. She also began to wish she wasn't sprawled on the ground in an alley surrounded by a group of strange man. But her wishes, as well as her attempts to escape, had no effect. The way this man was looking at her made her feel physically ill.
His face broke into a carnivorous sneer. He effortlessly produced aknife that glinted in the moonlight as ominously as his teeth, "I suppose we could have a bit of fun with her."
There was a flood of impatient agreements, to which he barked and waved around his weapon threateningly, "I meant we as in I. This one's mine."
The others hissed in complaint. They didn't want to be denied this rare prize, but it was obvious that they knew better than to challenge his authority. They shrank into the velvet shadows of the alley, lungs overflowing with eery, hollow laughs. They were like a group of feral hyenas, lapping up the fearful excitement their jackal created. Waiting for their turn to access the kill.
"Lâche-moi la paix!" She snarled and writhed in her captor's hold, "You already have what you want!"
This only seemed to excite the jackal more. He had a wounded wolf in his trap. She was still snapping and growling with the frenzied terror that comes to all animals before their deaths, but he knew her strength was rapidly evaporating. He could almost smell the slick, gravelly blood on her palms. It was still fresh, but she had so much more blood left to bleed. He got down on his knees and drew his face level with hers. Close enough to hear every deliciously panicked breath that escaped through her lips.
"Do I now?" His words were so rank with the pungence of decay that she was forced to turn her head in disgust, "Why don't you tell me, girlie, what you think I want."
She shuddered and shrank back, refusing to answer. The hand that held the knife dropped to the hem of her skirt. Then she felt the cold metal blade traveling up her thigh with the serrations pressing uncomfortably into her skin. She shivered and tried to jerk away, but she was backed up against the filthy wall. There was nowhere to go. If it was possible, he looked even more sadistic than before. She could see her look of utter panic reflected in his flinty eyes.
"You know what's coming to you," He whispered triumphantly, "Don't you?"
"Hey!" A new voice echoed down the alleyway accompanied by a blinding flash of light, "What's going on in there?"
"It's the cops!" One of the hyenas shrieked, "Run!"
He bolted, and so did the remaining four. Only the jackal with the knife remained. He tried to see past the light as it advanced down the alley, but the night rendered the person wielding the flashlight completely invisible. He stiffened and sat bolt upright, causing his knife to dig into her thigh in the processes. She moaned in pain, but he was too busy trying to see to notice the pain he'd inflicted. Finally, he decided it wasn't worth the effort and slunk away as soundlessly as he had appeared.
She too tried to see past the light, but found herself squinting. She couldn't tell who it was, but she found that she no longer cared. The snow was beginning to soak through her clothes, making her body go numb. Her head hurt like hell, and she could swear some teeth had come loose in her mouth. Whoever it was, they couldn't possibly be worse than her last visitors. Then, quite suddenly, the figure dropped the flashlight and ran to her side.
"Oh my God," She recognized his concerned voice, but she couldn't place it, "What did they do to you?"
She felt him come up next to her. She flinched and tried to recoil, but two incredibly gentle hands folded around her own, and stilled her. A cry of terror died in her throat, and came out as a startled gasp. She mentally forced her body to calm down enough to stop her hands from trembling, but her heart was still pounding against her rib cage and her breaths were still short and uneven. It almost matched his own irregular breathing. He sounded like he'd just been running at top speed.
"I'm sorry I frightened you," He released her hands, and backed away from her on his knees to allow her some space.
Finally, her eyes adjusted to the new darkness. The moon emerged from behind a rooftop and illuminated his face. At first the light just reflected off his glasses, but then he turned his head, and she recognized him immediately. It was like seeing an angel in the middle of a storm. She could never forget that face now.
Somehow she was able to form choked words, "Monsieur Ishida? What are you doing here?"
"You forgot your cat food. I thought I could still catch you, and then I heard you scream," He panted, and his face quirked into a lopsided grin, that she found herself weakly returning because of the sheer absurdity of the moment, "Are you hurt? Did they . . ."
"No," She finished quickly. She didn't want to hear him finish that sentence.
A look of pure relief washed over him. She looked throughly mangled, but at least he'd stopped them from doing the unthinkable. What was she thinking trying to walk home alone at nightfall? What would've happened if he hadn't left the pet store? Could he ever forgive himself if she got hurt? Her shiver brought him crashing back to reality. It had to be about thirty degrees outside, and she didn't even have a coat anymore.
"We have to get you out of the snow before you freeze to death," He fretted, getting a feeble smile from her, "Don't smile at me! It won't be funny when you have hypothermia!"
She actually giggled, even though it hurt her sides, "Do you always fuss like this?"
Hiroaki just glared. She obediently started to stand up, bracing herself against the slime-covered wall. It looked like she had almost succeeded until she winced and began to slip. Hiroaki darted to catch her, and she flopped into his arms. Then before she could protest, he hoisted her into his arms and carried her. She was surprisingly light, and he was supremely thankful for all the rigorous hours he put into the gym.
Once they were back in the bright warmth of the pet store, he set her down on his stool behind the counter and handed her his coat. She gave him a look of sincere gratitude, and again, he was struck by how blue her eyes were. He reminded himself that they had to be contacts. She draped the coat over herself and let her teeth chatter for a while as the cold chills departed.
"Well I'm certainly not going to let you walk home again," He grinned with all the humor he could manage and handed her the cat food she had purchased previously, "What did they take?"
"My shoes, my purse, and my coat," She sighed wearily and began to scoot her skirt up on her leg to inspect the damage.
"Wow. Well, at least . . ." He stopped abruptly and stared at her, wondering vaguely if he hadn't somehow drifted off to sleep, because this dream was getting better and better, "What . . . what are you doing?"
In answer she inched up her skirt the rest of the way to reveal the jagged crimson gash across her thigh. Hiroaki sucked in a breath, partly because it looked painful, and partly because he didn't know how much more of her flesh he could stand to see before she drove him insane. He knew it was wrong to even notice such things at a time like this, but trying not to notice just made him notice all the more.
He ran his tongue over teeth in an attempt to restore feeling to his mouth and asked her another question, just to distract himself, "How much money did you lose?"
She did not answer at first. She seemed to be calculating the total in her head as she ripped a bunch of Kleenex from the box on the counter. First, she meticulously blotted at the scrapes on her palms, and then she pressed the makeshift bandage against her leg.
"There wasn't much money in my purse, but those shoes cost an arm and a leg," She lowered her head so that her slightly curling hair fell into her face, "They're going to kill me."
"Your parents wouldn't kill you over a pair of shoes," Hiroaki said reassuringly, "I'm sure they'll just be happy you're alright. Let me see your hands."
Natsuko smiled ruefully at this. The truth was, she had no idea how her parents would react because she lived with the Oikawas. But the truth was far too complicated for her to explain. She knew better than to argue with him, so she stuck out her raw, bloody hands. They looked worse than she thought in the light. Her hands were white with cold, and the skin was shredded. Tiny shards of bottle-green glass and pieces of gravel were embedded in the cris-crossing red patchwork of cuts. They looked like they should hurt her, but the pain hadn't registered yet.
He frowned and turned them gingerly in his own large hands, "You're going to have to get this glass out and clean these cuts," He looked up at her with her hands still cradled in his, "May I?"
It sounded painful, and she really didn't want him to, but when he looked at her like that, she couldn't refuse his offer. She just nodded mutely, and closed her eyes, preparing for pain. It never came. Curiously, she opened her eyes and found him staring at her contemplatively.
He reached out and caught her chin between his fingers, "Please relax," As he spoke his deep eyes carefully examined the ominous bruise forming over the side of her mouth, and something that looked like anger flashed inthem briefly, "I won't hurt you."
"I know," She mumbled in a barely perceptible voice.
"Then trust me."
Delicately, he opened her hand all the way until her palm was flat in his. She forced herself to keep her eyes open as he preformed the procedure, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Instead of thinking about the pain that was to come, she absorbed the feel of his hands. For being a road map of calluses, they were surprisingly soft. Everything about him was smoother than it appeared on the surface. She was the one made of fire pokers and needles. Hadn't he noticed that?
He began the operation immediately. As if he were picking a bouquet of daises he plucked out the shards of glass, so quickly that the pain didn't even register. He repeated the same thing with her other hand, and before she knew it, he was finished. A small pile of glass and gravel was now sitting on the counter.
"You'll have to put some antiseptic on that," He let her take her hands back, and compulsively backed away from her to put some distance between them, "I'll take you home if you want"
"You have my gratitude Monsieur, but I'm afraid I cannot accept rides from strangers," Her lips twitched, threatening to turn upwards, "Even strangers who save my life."
"Oh, that's right," He brought his hand back to his lap, even though he desperately wanted to touch her again, "I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Hiroaki Ishida, and I don't really work here. This is my brother's ID."
"I thought something was up when you didn't know your way around," She grinned and ran her fingertips along the counter edge, "But I'm glad you came to work today."
"So am I," The words were out before he could stop himself, and she could only stare.
"I can take you right now," Headded quickly, to erase the previous blunder as soon as possible, "My brother's shift is just about over anyway, and it's not like I'm getting many customers. I'll just close up."
"Alright Hiroaki," He liked the way his name dripped off her lips, soft, and spiced with French, "I think you can handle that."
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Final Note::
Lâche-moi la paix Leave me alone
I don't know French. My friend tells me how to say everything I need to know, so if it is wrong I apologize.
