Disclaimer: I do not own Gogo Yubari
Author's note: This chapter features some angst and tragedy scenes (don't say I didn't warn you)
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The nightmare was always the same:
Rain was hitting the pavement with insane fury as Kiruga crawled through the muddy ground, spitting out dirt as somebody repeatedly pressed his head into the washed up earth beneath him.
He never saw the figure – he was too weak to roll around and look at him. So he continued crawling towards his gun, desperately trying to reach it. But he always failed. He always died...
The pain was unimaginable as a sharp metal dug into his back, ripping through his spine as if it was paper. Kiruga yelled, looking at the mud beneath him that went red from his own blood.
A moment later, the pain reached its peak as the blade proceeded to his neck, cutting his flesh to shreds and cracking every bone on its way. Kiruga could only manage a blank stare as the sword dug itself into his head, piercing through his brain.
They never changed – his dreams. Only one thing separated them from one another – how long the pain held on. It grew bigger with every new day.
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Kiruga woke up, screaming with bestial agony. He quickly checked his surroundings and noticed that he wasn't in his own room anymore. His memory struggled, trying to recollect what had happened to him before he fell asleep.
The door flew open as one of his troops broke it down with force, a worried expression on his face. "What happened?" He screamed.
Kiruga slowly regained his memento and waved the man back to where he had come from. He was in the hotel, far away from Asaki and his former residence.
Damn it, will this ever stop?
He got out of his bed and swiftly got dressed. Fresh air would help him, he was sure.
The operation had been a complete success, that girl Gogo had blasted the weaponry to hell, and they suffered only minimal casualties. Things were running very smoothly for their little gang.
The soldier left the hotel, trying to resemble a saloon from the Old West – failing miserably at said attempt.
Outside, the air was fresh and the wind was playing in the fields, along with two figures, wielding swords.
Kiruga came closer, completely captivated by the beautiful sight: the two figures were almost dancing as their swords clashed with charming elegancy in each and every movement.
He smiled, witnessing the friendly spar between Yubari and Retsuja, the two young lovers. Some couples preferred kissing around, others liked dancing and yet others enjoyed fighting each other with samurai blades. That was the beauty of love – everybody has his own concept.
Kiruga decided not to bother them and started walking down the road, enjoying a cheap cigarette and the beautiful night. Clouds were forming in the sky, rain would fall soon – that was sure. But that didn't distract Kiruga from walking the idyllic country road, which would soon transform into an ugly highway.
Fate is an inescapable thing and often ruthless. It always gets you, not giving you any road to escape and always forcing you to the ground. Kiruga froze as the rain started dripping faster, transforming the dirt road into a muddy bank.
As he turned around, he saw fate on four wheels as it stopped nearby and ten figures exited its doors. Blinding white suits, even in this rain he could barely look at them without covering his eyes. His feet weren't moving, his boots buried in the mud as the figures came closer.
His new friends had told him about them – Hakata's bodyguard Romeo's private brigade. Ruthless killing machines, always dressed in fancy white clothes and carrying white sword sheaths. And Kiruga suddenly felt mesmerized. All his life he never went anywhere unarmed – he even slept with a shotgun in his hands. But now, all he had was his bare knuckles...
The only thing that could save him was the fact that Romeo's thugs didn't know about him being Gogo's ally – this was the only fact that stood between life and death for him right now.
Dreary mud covered the men's garment as they walked towards the soldier, who couldn't move a muscle. Their faces were almost apocryphal with their distant and cold, grey eyes and motionless faces. His ghosts of death seemed almost too perfect: as if some Hollywood director had made them up, especially for him.
"We need to ask you a few questions." One of them asked Kiruga, his voice as soothing as a fresh spring breeze.
"Be my guest." Kiruga answered, trying to keep a calm face.
His dialog partner suddenly rushed forward, digging his sword handle into Kiruga's stomach and throwing him on the floor, face forward. He fell without resistance, his body felt weak and helpless.
"We're searching for a young girl and her friends." The voice sounded from behind, echoing with delicacy.
"I ain't no fucking pedophile!" Kiruga forced out some words as he received a kick to his stomach.
"Gogo Yubari." The figure said, his voice as cold as an ocean of icebergs.
"What a silly name, you ought to change it, boy." Kiruga said, spitting out blood.
Another fierce hit paralyzed his legs, Kiruga swallowing down the pain.
"Act smart." The voice soothed. "Tell us where she is and I will offer you a quick death."
Kiruga smirked and started crawling...the nightmare was getting reality. But one thing had changed – he could change the outcome, if only a little bit.
Rain was hitting the pavement with insane fury as Kiruga crawled through the muddy ground, spitting out dirt as somebody repeatedly pressed his head into the washed up earth beneath him.
He knew who was hitting his head into the mud and he was an alive being. That meant that Kiruga could kill him.
He heard the sound of a blade, being pulled out of its sheath and stroked upward.
Kiruga felt his body coming back to him and with animal strength, he rolled to the side as the blade hit the dirt and buried itself into the sand. This was his chance...
He jumped to his feet and thrashed his fist into the white suit's face, as he received a fierce blow to the head from behind – they were just too many.
Kiruga's face buried itself in the mud, his strength at an end.
The pain was unimaginable as a sharp metal dug into his back, ripping through his spine as if it was paper. Kiruga yelled, looking at the mud beneath him that went red from his own blood.
Kiruga cried, he couldn't fight fate – it did not consist of flesh and blood and had no weak spots. It hit you when you least expected and never missed its target. But fate was about to change...
When Vivienne reached him, he was already dead. Five other corpses lied next to him, covered in blood.
A moment later, the pain reached its peak as the blade proceeded to his neck, cutting his flesh to shreds and cracking every bone on its way. Kiruga could only manage a blank stare as the sword dug itself into his head, piercing through his brain.
But his blank stare came with a faint smile, appearing right before he died. He had changed the outcome, if only a little bit.