Author's Note: Whee, my second fanfic. About Demon Ororon, of course! I hope everyone liked the first one. The only thing I didn't love about the book was that they never show what happens to Mitsume, and I was like going crazy trying to imagine what would become of him! Mitsume is one of my favourite characters and I think he's really cute..aww, I feel so sad for him. So this is my version of what happens after Demon Ororon, Vol. 4 to the young bounty hunter. Reviews are appreciated, but flames with be answered with a thorough tongue-sticking-outing. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Demon Ororon, or any of the characters...though I wish I did. All I've got is all four books and a fan site... enjoy! Jeazz : P

Chapter 2

The motorcyclist chugged his drink as he passed his eyes over the crowd in the bar. What a filthy, stinkin' place, he thought. Unfortunately, it was the only shelter from the storm for the out-of-town gangster. But from the rambunctious sounds and paraphernalia that surrounded him, it looked like he wasn't the only one who'd wanted a place to get out of the rain. Beggars, thieves, drunks…basically anyone who didn't have a decent place to stay for the night. He grimaced as he watched a skinny guy get beaten hard by a couple of thugs after picking a fight. What a trashy hole this is.

Suddenly, the commotion stopped. The door to the bar had opened, and a slight figure stood outside, as if weighing his options. The biker craned his neck, trying to see the mysterious stranger better. Then the figure let out a deep sigh, and stepped in from the rain.

The boy was wearing a light, ragged jacket over a small t-shirt. A shock of thick hair and a pair of goggles covered his forehead. He looked around, like he was wondering why he was there. He sure looks out-of-place enough, the biker thought, watching him carefully. The boy was slender and scrawny enough, yet he didn't seem frightened or intimidated by the crowd in the bar, only disdainful, as if he really resented being there.

"Can I help you?" the bartender looked at the boy suspiciously. His thick New York accent cut through the sudden silence. He wasn't used to having this kind of customer.

Mitsume looked over at the bartender. "I just need a place to hang out."

"This isn't a shelter, boy. I'm runnin' a business here!"

Mitsume glared at the man, who, for a moment, was somehow slightly frightened by the cold look in those dark eyes. Mitsume shrugged. The bartender cleared his throat. "Guess so long as you stay out the way of customers. And have yor butt out o' here by tomorrow mornin'."

Mitsume nodded slowly and moved away. A few days ago he might have been offended by this degrading treatment, but he'd been through worse. Oh, yeah, after Othello, he'd definitely been through worse.

Mitsume shadowed the door for the rest of the night, being sure to stay in the shadows. But no matter what he tried to think about, his mind kept returning to one thing.

Othello. My eye. My third eye. That thief. That shit. My third eye. Othello…

Mitsume sighed. His eyes moved around the room and rested on the window. Darkness outside, with raindrops hammering against the glass.

Then his eyes made out the shapes. One small shape, unable to be more than a child, on the ground, under the foot of a larger, angrier shape, which was thrashing it severely. The smaller shape struggled and fought, but was no use for the larger shape, which was kicking it and trouncing it.

Mitsume could feel the rage swell inside him. It didn't matter who that bigger shape was; to him it was Othello. Mitsume rose from where he sat, unaware of what he was doing as he pushed his way out the door. He snarled, leaping onto the silhouette in the darkness and pounding the shape with closed fists. He heard with satisfaction the groans of agony as his fists hit their mark. He swung again, connecting with the man's jaw line. The man staggered back, only to meet with a high kick in the stomach. The man doubled over, then pulled himself up and fled Mitsume's wrath.