Trigger Warning: This chapter once again focuses on Ann Takamaki and the effects of Kamoshida's sexual harassment towards her. It alos takes a look at all of the other abuses that have been inflicted upon the students under him. You have been warned.
Also I'm back. Hi.
4/13 Very Early Morning
I eventually found myself back in Yongen-jaya, my muscles feeling like they had been replaced by hot lead. Every inch of movement was like I was trying to move in the depths of the ocean, weighed down by the pressure of several magnitudes of water. Crawling up the building to grab the duffle bag for my items felt like it took all my remaining strength and it made the crushing weight of my overworked muscles more and more pronounced with each agonizing step. I very nearly slipped on the way back down and catching myself on the wall pulled at my multitude of cuts, stab wounds and bruises, making my body tense up in rolling waves of pain.
Eventually, I managed to bring myself below the window to my room, staring up at it and then looking down at myself, an arm resting over my stomach and clutching my side. Whatever traces of white left on my outfit was surrounded by a smear of crimson. I could feel my head beginning to swim and my vision blur, my breath coming out in shallow, stinging wisps. I needed to get inside and treat these but crawling in as is would leave a mess that I didn't want to deal with.
'Especially since I just finished cleaning that place.' I shook my head, clearing up the blur in my eyes and began to slowly walk up the wall, not bothering to use my hands. Powering through the crippling pain as I did so, I got to the window peering into my room and shot a web onto it, pulling it open. Peering inside, I saw the box of garbage bags I had left on the tabletop when I was cleaning the room. Shooting another line and snatching it, I pulled out several bags and wrapped them around my body, making sure to cover every inch of myself that was bleeding so as to not get any on the floor and bed when I entered the room.
After completely covering myself in garbage bags, I threw my duffel bag inside and then grabbed the upper rim of the window, trying to get a grip through the plastic surrounding my hand. Feeling confident, I jumped and swung forward. Unfortunately, my hand slipped, causing the upper portion of my back to collide with the edge of a bedpost. I stifled the scream of pain that threatened to burst out, my neck going stiff as muscles spasmed in every direction. Weak, droning grunts and groans came out of my synthesizer and my arms twitched in violent episodes from the rushing torrent of suffering.
I forced the pain down, letting out a series of deep breaths through my nose and mouth. Deep inhale, slow exhale. I achingly brought an arm up and grabbed my face mask, taking it and my mouth mask off. I oddly welcomed the rush of attic air, the lingering scent of dust bringing me a sort of calm that told me I was safe here. For now, at least.
Pushing myself up, the crinkling and shuffling of the bags I was wearing following every movement, I got to work in prepping the room. Grabbing more garbage bags, I ripped them length wise in order to cover more ground, laying them down and lightly webbing them along the edges to stop them from moving. After I put down enough, I slowly took off the bags I was wearing to stop any rainwater and blood from hitting the floor, putting them inside an empty bag. Then, I took a deep breath and began to peel off the layers of upper clothing. The way I needed to move my arms caused my injuries to twitch in unnatural feeling ways, like I was about to split them right open and I could feel threads of clothing that got stuck in the various punctures I had rip out of them from dried bits of blood. I bit the inside of my cheeks, a pained groan rumbling from my neck. When the red soaked clothes finally slipped off, my web shooters clattering on the ground from me forgetting to take them off, rattling the inside of my head and worsening the headache I was dealing with, I took several deep breaths and began to inspect the damage I had suffered.
On a glance, it was safe to say that I was in the worst shape I'd been in for a long time. My torso was mired with surface level cuts and scrapes, bruises ranging from green to purple overtaking my normal skin color. And that wasn't even getting into the blood. Thick, dripping lines of it slid off both dried and wet patches that covered pretty much the entirety of my upper body, not even needing to look at my back to tell thanks to my overtaxed power. And then there were the puncture wounds...
Just standing up was causing waves of prickling heat to emanate from my perforated leg. I had to resist the urge to sit down on the bed just to relive even a fraction of the agony I was going through. That might as well have been a paper cut though compared to the nine lacerations that I had collected over night. Six populated the surface of my back, two of the intrusions just missing my spine by a few scant centimeters. The ones that went along my sides made every breath of air feel like a knife was being twisted inside my lungs. The only positive I could glean out of this was that the lesions weren't too deep, only reaching into the muscle layers and avoiding any of the major organs. Even if they were hit, my healing factor had already stymied most of the bleeding.
'But even so...' I thought back to Hadogenes. The green lit blades of his mechanical tail sprang to mind, the sickly sheen highlighting the three long, razor sharp pincers on the side of it and the singular, barbed stinger that came out the end of it. 'Any one of those blades could have easily ran me through. An inch or two more of those pincers and my lungs would be filled to the brim in blood right now.' Hadogenes's words ring out in my head. How he wasn't hired to kill me. 'Was that all that was keeping me from getting killed right then and there? The lack of a paycheck?'
…. No. That wasn't the whole picture. He was told to observe me. He was told to observe the gun deals, plural. Meaning that there was someone who was bringing in guns to Tokyo for an indeterminate period of time and that they were either threatened or concerned enough by my interruption of one that they sent an assassin clad in what I could only assume was experimental armor to ensure that I didn't interrupt one again. 'But he also said that he was sent to kill the men in that building he lit on fire.' Which meant that I inadvertently saved the lives of people who I could only assume, again, managed to warrant a response consisting of a contract killer who looks like he belonged in The Raft.
Tonight was just getting better and better, wasn't it? I wasn't upset at the fact that I saved the lives of potential criminals, so much that it might not have been for much given who was hired to kill them.
As if on cue, my vision began to blur again. I had to quickly snatch one of my web shooters and fling it upwards with my foot. I fumbled catching it, spinning it in the air as it danced out of my grip. Finally managing to grab it, I put it back on my wrist and fired a web line on the ceiling, holding myself up as my legs began to shake and everything in my field of vision began to combine into some blob of overlapping colors and shapes.
I brought a hand up and slapped myself across the face, blinking dots invading my sight as some semblance of strength returned to me at the new stimulus. I held onto the web line, practically leaning on the thing for support as I forced my legs to work despite the shocks and spasms of my muscles. Taking in a few deep breaths, I forced myself to stand up straight and put all of my weight on my legs. They shook for a few seconds longer, but eventually they were reduced to a faint, occasional twitch.
'Lament on your oversights later.' I stuck the line of web on the top of my least damaged shoulder, helping me stay upright. The ceiling gave a worrying groan, but I ignored it and hooked my foot around the strap of my duffel bag. Lifting it up, I grabbed the large first aid kit I kept inside. While I had minor first aid materials in my utility belt, they weren't going to be enough to treat wounds this serious. Besides, I'd rather use those for other people rather than me.
Opening the kit, the first thing I grabbed was a small spray bottle filled with water and a tube of anti-bacterial soap, along with another small bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Mixing some soap into the bottle, I stirred the contents, taking a deep, steadying breath in anticipation of what was about to come. I then added a small drop of the peroxide into it; after the components were all combined, I grabbed two pieces of cloth and twisted my arm behind me, aiming the spray bottle at one of the more difficult to reach puncture sites. I put one of the cloths into my mouth, biting down, my breath reverberating in large, slow intervals. Finally, I took the plunge and squeezed the handle of the bottle.
My vision immediately went white. My throat lurched so badly that I had to gasp for breath, trying my best not to drop the cloth guard that was sticking to my teeth and replacing the scream I wanted to let out with a choked gag. Every bit of pain and torment that I was holding back came to the forefront, convalescing into this feeling that, even though I didn't feel like I was hurting in any way, my body simply understood that I was in complete and utter agony.
I bit down harder on the cloth, forcing my legs to hold my body upwards and brought my other hand to my back, scrubbing the surface area of the saturated wound of any debris. This managed to bring out a rumbling shout from my throat and I could feel how badly my hand was shaking from it lightly spreading the entrance of the wound open with every tremor. I had no choice but to continue onwards though and powered through my fugue and forced my fingers deeper into the abrasion, scrubbing the bloodied, chemical infused cloth into its reaches. My neck went so rigid that my veins felt like metal wire, pushing against my skin as if they were threatening to burst out.
For whatever reason, my mind went back to my first day at Shujin. When I overheard one of the students gossiping about whether I had any scars. I remember thinking how fortuitous I was that I had yet to receive anything more than a couple of light bruises or cuts during my interventions in Tokyo's underworld. It was ironic. These abrasions would heal in a matter of days, leaving no evidence that I was ever injured to begin with. Even cleaning them out was more for my own comfort than any worry of infection.
But I'd never forget them. I'd see them every time I looked in a mirror. I needed to. Reminders of my failure this night. Reminders of what I'd been neglecting for far too long.
'Let alone if it was even the first.' A reminder of what I was failing to do ever since I started putting on that mask.
Color slowly started to come back into sight, the darkness of this desolate and empty attic replacing the blinding vision of pain. I idly continued with my first aid, scrubbing at every injury with a steady hand, ignoring, welcoming the pain that came with it. Eventually, I finished with the damage done to my back and front, throwing the pieces of blood-soaked cloth and unsalvageable costume parts into an empty garbage bag. I finished up by taking off my pants and dealing with the mess my leg was rendered into, mercifully taking some pressure off of it by sitting on the floor. After a few minutes of stinging waves and hissed breaths, I was finally done. After that, it was a simple matter of putting on bandages and anti-bacterial ointments to cover my collection of stab wounds. I didn't bother with stitches, as my healing factor would be able to close them in a day or two. I put the last bit of gauze on my leg and finally I was finished.
In that moment, I truly felt all the energy, or rather the complete and utter lack of it, leave me. My back hit the floor of the attic with a dull, crinkling thud as it hit the layered bags of plastic I laid down. The shot of pain that went throughout my body from the impact felt like a cold, refreshing blast of air compared to what I just put myself through.
I let myself stay there for a while, doing nothing. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Chest stinging in protest. Small breath in, small breath out. Chest still stinging. A groan. Despite myself, I just laid back, not focusing on anything around me or my abused body. For a moment, I simply tried to relax, to let my body rest from the event I had just put it through. I closed my eyes and-
Wood cracking, falling apart. Metal snapping as wood crashed upon it, sending ash into the air.
Sirens blaring, tires screeching on pavement to arrive at scene.
Blood flowing, knives cutting into skin, stitches piercing flesh, pulling together-
They snapped open and suddenly my body was tighter than piano wire. Every bit of damage inflicted on my body flared up in response. My breath came out in slow, angry intervals through my nose, my teeth grinding together as my hands clenched tightly closed. I only just stopped my nails from digging into my palms and drawing blood. I had no intention of adding to my mangled state, despite feeling that I deserved it.
Heart rate monitor tone beeps in steady rhythm-
"How the hell is this guy still alive?"
"And it is here, at the scene of this sudden and violent fire, that the mysterious vigilante known as The Pale Spider was confronted by a squadron of police officers-"
My hands instantly went to my ears, pushing against them as I curled up and turned onto my side, my breath coming out in a pathetic wince.
'Shut up.' My eyes strain themselves shut, to the point I can feel bits of moisture come out the from the sides of them. I force one of my hands to push myself up, going to my school bag to grab the bottle of Imitrex. Each step makes the garbage underneath wrinkle in sounds that feel as though they're grinding a layer of sandpaper against my eardrums. It only stops when I step onto the cold hardwood floor.
Whatever respite that might have brought though is stamped out when, only after I just put my hand on my bag, that I remember the drugs aren't even in the bag anymore. That they were still at school. Because of him. That Ann was still there. Stuck with him. Because of me.
Powder bubbling, rubber snapping against skin-
SMACK! "When I tell you to do something, I mean-!"
Metal casing pushed into place, bullet entering chamber as gun is cocked.
Skin slapping against skin, sweat building up-
Child crying, parents arguing-
Knife cutting skin, man falling down. "Please, don't! I have a-"
I hit my head against the wall, my hands springing back to blot out my ears form the invasion of everything around me.
"I'm sorry." I slid down to the floor, pushing my head against the hard surface, my eyes squeezed shut. I barely heard bits of moisture fall to the floor in front of my face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
4/13 Early Morning
I flicked the light to the bathroom on, looking to the mirror. The large purple bruise that made home on over half of my face had receded into a small red swelling near my left eye. My healing factor had more than taken care of it and I'd be able to chalk this up as a reaction to the material my bed was made from. Not exactly a lie, given the rough, barely used sheets had long since lost their luster.
The rest of my body was much the same, all the bruises and small cuts having vanished and healed in a matter of hours. All that was left were the various points of entry left by Hadogenes, which were covered in bandages and medical ointment. The only site of concern was my neck, being surrounded by deep enough slashes to still be visible, but the school uniform's pronounced turtleneck would be able to cover it well enough as it healed throughout the day.
I looked back at myself in the mirror. Dull, empty, tired eyes glared back. Pale skin from blood loss made me look several times older than I was. I can see the beginnings of bags starting to form under my eyes, which are again bloodshot and dry as a bone...
I flicked the light off and slammed the door closed with more force than necessary, walking back upstairs and changed into my school uniform. All of the mess from last night was cleaned up and thrown into a dumpster several streets away, a relatively empty one so that the contents would be covered by other bags of garbage throughout the week. When I finished getting dressed, I looked to the table where my rosary rested. I stood in place, contemplating the thin, broken piece of metal, wondering what I should do with it.
Hearing the door to the café unlock and open made my decision for me, so I walked downstairs, leaving the item in its resting place with the other reminder of days long gone.
Sakura was hanging his coat and hat when I turned the corner and twisted his head towards me as I cleared the steps. "Enjoy your late night out?" My eye twitched at the unintentional insensitivity of the innocent comment.
"Hm," was the only reply I had the patience to give. Sakura let out a small laugh.
"Good to hear, cause like I said, that was the last time." He turned, his face taking on the authoritative edge it did when he set up ground rules as of late. "I want you back here right away after school and-" he stopped mid explanation, his eyes shooting open. "What the hell happened to your eye?!" Him half shouting the last bit caused the back of my head to tense up, but I did my best to act confused.
"What do you mean?" I ask to add to the façade.
"It's all swollen up." He states as he walks up to me, bringing a hand up to further inspect it. A bring my own up to intercept him and grab my civilian phone to look at my reflection. I let out a surprised 'huh' in acknowledgment of its existence.
"Strange." Sakura gawks at my word choice, but I interrupt whatever else he's about to say with my excuse. "It's probably just a reaction to the bedsheets. I haven't washed them yet and I have sensitive skin." All technically true, particularly the last part. It mollifies Sakura well enough, but he still looks upset, closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath as he rubbed at them, pushing his glasses up his forehead.
"First the headache, now this." He leveled an annoyed look at me as his glasses fell back into place. "You're real high maintenance, you know that?" My eyes scrunched up and I felt my throat tighten.
"I'm sorry." I look away, a pit forming in my stomach. Then I feel a sharp stab on my forehead and flinch my head back to see that Sakura had just flicked me, his hand inches away from my face.
"Relax kid." He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he brushed past me into the kitchen. "Learn to loosen up a little. Given your situation, people will think that you're hiding something by acting so uptight all the time." I stare at him as he gets to work prepping the kitchen, feeling my stomach twist at the irony in Sakura's words. I look away, grimacing as I felt a bandage pull against a closing wound and turned away to walk out the café. I could feel Sakura shift his attention towards me and heard him through the closed door as he let out a heavy sigh.
"Just what have I gotten myself into?" My eyes furrow at the question, a stab of guilt rising in the back of my chest. I feel my damaged leg sting every time I take a step, doing my best not to limp. It unfortunately wasn't raining anymore, so I wouldn't be able to feel the refreshing coolness of the water easing the spasms of my leg in the slightest. All that was left in the sky was a dull, brown-grey overcast.
'More than you've bargained for.' I eventually make my way to the train station and I'm left stewing in my impotence and failure the entire ride to Shujin. 'More than I've bargained for.'
4/13 Morning
I stand at the bottom of the stairs leading to Shujin, groups of crowded students walking past me. I ignore their childish whispers as I stay in place, staring up at the arrogant, smirking face that sets my blood on fire.
"Morning there, Kouzai." Kamoshida's face is set in what I imagine is a smile he practiced in the mirror from how staged it looked. It does nothing to help with my mood, which had dropped from despondent to barely restrained seething in a moment's notice. "Wow, you look like you've seen better days." My hands clench in a vice grip at the plastic kindness in his voice. I let out a slow breath through my nose as I force my legs up the steps, suppressing a wince as I did so. I was beginning to grow tired of these irony laden conversations this morning. Unfortunately, I'm stopped by Kamoshida placing a hand on my shoulder, the smallest of whimpers making itself known in my throat.
"You're not doing anything irresponsible while out of school are you?" Very tired. My nose scrunches at his breath hitting my face and I glare down at him form the corner of my eyes. It takes every bit of strength to not rip his arm out of its socket, not helped by the firm grip he was putting my shoulder under causing new waves of pain to wrack my body. "First bringing a bottle of pills to school, now doing who knows what in your free time." I bite the inside of my cheek as his eyes open a sliver of a fraction. The disgust in them is clear as day. "What a hopeless case you are."
"Get your hand off me." Secret identity be damned, if I stayed any closer to this thing, I wouldn't be able to control myself. Kamoshida blinked, his false smile becoming just a bit more forced. By now, a small crowd had formed around us, the clamoring students pointing and pontificating about the noble teacher disciplining the unruly delinquent. I don't need my enhanced senses to hear what they're saying.
"Look at him, what's he doing to Kamoshida?"
"Kamoshida-sensei's so cool!"
"What d'you think he did this time?"
I can feel every muscle in my body constrict and tighten up. My teeth gnash against each other in blinding contempt.
"Now there's no need for that, is there?" He tries to sound placating. Like a responsible, sensible teacher. It instead sounds like he's trying not to throttle me this very instant. He shook his head, fawning a look of disappointment. "Honestly, how did someone like you even get accepted to a place like this?" I can feel nails beginning to dig into my skin, the faint hint of iron reaching my nose.
…. Wait. The smell isn't coming from my hands. My nails hadn't pierced deep enough to draw blood. I cast my eyes down to Kamoshida's hand. His knuckles were white from the grip on my shoulder. I took a breath in through my nose and my stomach collapsed in on itself at what I caught.
Traces of blood and broken skin, washed off with soap and disinfectant. Three days old.
I shot my arm out, smacking his hand away. He let out a sharp cry and immediately cradled his wrist, face contorting in pain. All the gossiping students around us went quiet so quickly that I head a smattering of teeth closing shut with a click. Kamoshida's eyes flare up in anger, but instantly deflate the moment they meet my own cold glare.
We stay like that for what felt like minutes, me not budging an inch, while Kamoshida was awkwardly trying to muster up some semblance of authority, undercut by how much he was fidgeting under my gaze. I turn away and walk inside, the wall of students scattering away from me as I go through the doors. I can feel a wave of heat and frustration emanating from my head in pulsing beats. I take deep, soothing breaths through my nose and out my mouth to calm down, only to quickly wince as I felt a tight pulling in my side, one of my wounds taking issue with my breathing. I let out an annoyed groan and closed my footlocker door with more force than necessary, causing the few students next to me to jump slightly and move as far away as possible without seeming obvious.
I ignored them and continued on, walking through the halls and towards the staircase. I didn't have any patience for more interruptions.
"Kouzai-kun." …. Just had to say something, didn't I? I turn around more sharply than I needed to, meeting the face of a senior with short, orderly brown hair with a braid somehow going vertically across her head, with sharp brown-red eyes staring at me. There was a smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes, her clipped posture telling me that she was annoyed about something. She flinched slightly when our eyes met, but quickly steeled herself.
I'm suddenly hit with a feeling of awkwardness as my mind backflips, remembering my meeting with this girl, Makoto Niijima, in the office. About how she was told to help tutor me on accordance with Shujin taking me in. About how she arranged to meet with me in the library to discuss the particulars of said arrangement.
And how I had forgotten about it. Twice.
'Goddammit.'
"How are you today?" Niijima asks, her voice laden with a controlled politeness. In spite of it though, I don't answer. I was in no mood to deal with this, let alone deal with her attitude. Her eyes sharpen just a fraction at my lack of answer. "Listen, while I can appreciate that this must be a difficult time for you," my hands tighten in their pockets and I can hear my teeth straining against each other, "having just transferred to a new school, I do not appreciate having my time wasted."
'Your time wasted?' My breath comes out in controlled bursts through my nose. Niijima gives no indication she's noticed my ever-escalating irritation.
"Kawakami-sensei asked me to help you. And while I agreed to talk with you about the specifics of our arrangement due to your protests against it, you deciding to take my time for granted has made my decision for me." She takes a moment for a quick breath. I can't help but notice that she looks very satisfied with herself right now. "As such, starting today, you will meet me in the library after school and not a moment later."
"No." I cut in, whatever momentum she had built up dissipating at the interruption as she gawks at me, mouth hanging open. "I have responsibilities outside of school. I don't have the time to waste it here." I turn away from her and walk towards the stairs. I can hear the students around us in the hall begin to whisper their obscenities.
"Did you see that?"
"Jeez, what a dick."
"What's the prez doing trying to help a guy like him?"
"Why's he even here?"
My eyes narrow. My breath becomes shallow and angry. I couldn't help but agree with the last question pointed towards me. Playing at being a student was doing nothing but getting in the way of things that actually mattered .
"Kouzai-kun." Niijima makes to follow me up the steps and my growing anger finally got the better of me.
I twisted my body around, stomping my foot down in front of her. The slam of my shoe onto the tiled floor rang out through the halls, one of my clenched hands leaving my pocket to rest at my side, everyone jumping back from the sound. Niijima reflexively brought her arms in front of her, her eyes widening in shock. I stare down at her, my eyes flared open, barely restraining my anger. Her attention flicked to my fist, eyes widening even more, her arms beginning to tremble.
For a moment, the scene in front of me changes. The girl in front of me is several years younger, tears in her eyes. The smell of anti-septic cleaners and hum of fluorescent lights fills my senses. For some reason, I feel my arm move up, despite it staying rooted to my side.
"I said no. " The words come out slowly, deliberately. The entire hall is quiet. Whatever students that tried to weasel up the steps during our discussion had their backs flat against the walls and railings. "My answer is final."
Silence reigns between us. The only thing I can hear is the slow, deep breaths of air I take through my nose, making my chest rise with each intake. Niijima stares up at me, confusion wracking her face. Eventually though, it slowly fades away, her face settling into an impassive, neutral stare. I feel sick looking at it, wincing at the uncomfortable mounting quiet in the hall.
"If that's what you want, Kouzai-kun." The way she says it is perfectly monotone and polite. Robotic, even. She bows and turns away. "Have a good day." She walks down the hall, the students blocking her moving to let her through on instinct.
I'm left there, glaring at the spot she once occupied. Everyone around is staring at me, but not a single sound leaves their mouths. The tension in their muscles is thick, no one daring to make a move. I stand still, the embers of my temper dulling with each passing second, only to be replaced by a surge of shame that did more to sap the strength out of me than the beating I took barely seven hours ago.
The crowd around me is eventually broken by the sound of the bell ringing out and once again I wince at the piercing sound. It causes my already abused head to throb and pulsate in bursts that feel like they'll split my skull open, the only respite I have is that the students walking by don't bump into me, stepping away and giving me a wide berth. I rub a hand over my eyes, deeply pushing into them as I could without it being uncomfortable. It did very little to alleviate the buzzing haze that settled in my mind.
A scoff managed to catch my attention. I look through my fingers to see Kamoshida standing in the entranceway, an arrogant sneer plastered on his face as he glared at me in the emptying halls.
"Nice seeing you getting along with your peers." He began walking down the hall, passing me as he headed to one of the further sections of the building. "You know, in spite of everything else." His sneer twists up into a smug grin as he turns a corner. I can hear him chuckling at his comment as he goes down the halls. It made every inch of my body writhe in fury and I wanted to tear down every inch of building that was between me and Kamoshida so I could at least give it some form of catharsis. I turned and forced myself to go up the stairs, thankful that the hallways were now empty from the first bell.
So, to summarize the last thirteen or so hours; I'd gone out last night to finally put a stop to Kamoshida's abuses, got stymied by a building that had blown up and caught fire, assisted the men still in said building in escaping – who I learned were potentially criminals – got into a fight with and assassin – Hadogenes – clad in high tech armor, suffered the first real defeat of my career and the worst injuries that I had sustained during said career, just barely managed to save an officer from bleeding out from failing to stop said assassin, got shot at by the police after helping them. And to top all of that off, learned that I had neglected to answer my senior's question about her part in my rehabilitation after she took the time out of her schedule to talk to me for two days and was now stuck here in this school with a man who regularly abused his students and sexually harassed a girl who had no way of escaping him.
As I cleared the last step to my corresponding floor, the sigh I let out was deep and loud. I glared upwards at the ceiling. 'Anything else you're forgetting, Kouzai?'
Set of rapid footsteps, coming from beside- "Hey man!" A hand landed on my back, my entire body going rigid as a cascade of hot, stinging, prickling needles erupted from... well everywhere. A pained shout tried its best to escape, but I managed to keep my lips sealed shut and it came out as a loud groan that scratched the inside of my neck. My vision became flooded with dotted lines and blurring imagery and it took all of whatever strength was left in my body to not double over and pass out.
"Uh, you good?" I blink the disorientation away and forcibly crane my neck to my right and I see the slowly clearing image of yellow hair revealing the concerned face of one Ryuji Sakamoto, his face scrunched up in confusion.
"Yes. Fine." I croak out, earning an even more questioning look. I don't get the strong temptation to throttle it. "Sore back, is all."
"And your eye?" He emphasized the question by pointing at his own.
"My bedsheets. Haven't washed them yet." I force through strained teeth, the act of talking not doing my spasming muscles any favors.
"Man, sounds like you had a rough night." My eye twitches. So help me if I hear another comment that reflected on some level the poor events of last night I'm going to snap. "You good for today then?" Sakamoto's eyes took on a worried look, crossing his arms as he started to tap his foot on the ground. I discard that childish thought I had earlier and take a deep breath, calming myself from the last few minutes.
"Yes." Looking him straight in the eye, I can see a steel to them I hadn't before. Granted, I only knew him since yesterday, but I didn't expect a teenager to have such a serious expression in their eyes. Well, at least not one in such a domestic setting. "During the rally, we'll ask around, see what we can gather. Hopefully, we'll manage to uncover enough testimony to make a case." Despite what I was saying, I honestly couldn't help but think this plan was a waste of time on my part. I already knew what kind of person Kamoshida was, so having to walk around and expose myself to more of his actions was just more salt in my already numerous wounds.
"Damn dude, you studying to be a lawyer or something?" Sakamoto let out a small laugh, causing me to tilt my head. What did he mean by that? "But yeah, sounds like a plan. Would probably work better if we split up too." He brough a fist up and pumped it in the air, excited. I nodded. It was sound logic, even with my misgivings. And even despite them, I couldn't' help but admire his enthusiasm.
"What are you two still doing in the halls?" Sakamoto's face instantly dropped at the intruding voice. I achingly twisted my head to see Kawakami standing at the door to homeroom, her arms crossed and tiredly staring at us.
"Relax will you, the second bell hasn't even rung yet." Sakamoto shook his head and closed his eyes, propping his hands on his hips with his elbows behind him, slouching. Once again, as if on cue, the reminder bell rung out in the halls, leaving me only wincing this time at the shrill noise. Sakamoto's eyes shot wide open and I had to inwardly curse at the timing of this situation.
'I hope this doesn't become a pattern.' Comical though it was to see the bell ring right after Sakamoto's statement, it was troublesome to be caught out of class and deal with the teachers. Kawakami brought a hand up to rub at her eyes.
"Get to class, Sakamoto." He scrunched his face up at being dismissed but hid it under a determined look as he turned away. He nodded and gave me a 'See ya later' as he went by. I nodded back. "He still hasn't dyed his hair back..." I turned back to Kawakami, hearing her mutter under her breath as she let out a put-upon sigh. Her eyes refocused on me, traces of fading red veins in them that I could easily see from here. "So now you're friends with Sakamoto?" There's a resigned tone to her voice that doesn't sit well with me.
"We just met yesterday." We weren't friends. I was helping him with stopping Kamoshida, just not the way he likely envisioned.
"Look, while I know you might be a bit lonely," I'm what? "Don't hang around with Sakamoto." My eyes furrow, my chest tightening. "He's a troublemaker. A bad one. You can't-"
"You're wrong." The words leave my mouth in an instant. There was no hesitation, no stumbling of words. I simply felt the need to stop her from talking, so I did so. Kawakami's eyes widen at me in shock, choking on whatever else she was about to say. "About Sakamoto-san. You're wrong." He was aware of what kind of man Kamoshida was, which is more than I could say for anyone else here, staff included. He was trying to do something about it, despite there being very little he could do. She had no right to speak of him like that.
Kawakami stands there staring at me from the still open classroom door, with me standing next to the second doorway closest to the stairs. She stays still, then her arms cross over her stomach narrows her eyes at me. "Don't ever talk to me like that again." Her voice is cold and controlled.
I don't reply. I narrow my eyes in return. Her posture stiffens and fidgets.
"Get to your desk." She drops her arms like dead weight and turns to enter the room, her words heavy and tired.
"My Imitrex." She suddenly stops, balling one of her fists up.
"You'll get it after class." She walks through the door after shaking her head. I let out a slow breath through my nose and go through the door next to me. I close it with more force than necessary, the entire room jumping at the sound before going quiet at seeing it who it was that entered the room. I don't stop the scoff that comes out at the pathetic sight.
My sight trails over to where Takamaki-san is and I can't even look her in the eye for more than a second before I look away. I can hear a dull, quiet ringing beginning to creep up in my ears, the back of my head tightening up like piano wire. The last cople of steps I take to my desk are uneven and I have to grab at the edge of the windowsill in order to steady myself as I slowly sit down, every muscle feeling like it was ready to tear apart from my bones and burst. I drop my bag by my feet and bring my hands together on my desk, dipping my head and rubbing my thumbs in lines across my forehead to try and stave off the incoming migraine.
"All rise." Everyone stands when morning roll call starts. I don't. The screeching of school chairs makes every part of my head feel like it's stretching out, threatening to split in two. Roll call came by, my name being passed over while everyone else called out. My back shudders and shoulders go rigid at them all sitting back down, the clattering of school items sounding like I'm sitting inside of a church bell.
The lesson begins and it doesn't take long for the baseless stories to follow.
"You saw what Kouzai did at the front gate?"
"Yeah, he nearly got into a fight with Kamoshida!"
"Yeah right. Kamoshida'd kick his ass."
I scoff at that. They had no idea tha-
"The fuck d'you mean the shipment didn't arrive?!" Two miles away. Irate. On the phone.
I twist my head to the window and my heart starts racing in my chest. I rest my elbows on the desktop, rubbing my eyes with my palms. 'Damn it all.'
Hand striking against face, woman falling to ground. "I told you to stay away from him!"
Old man taking weak steps, knocking over plates. Heart stopped beating.
Chemicals bubbling, plastic wrap being handled-
Car alarm going off, wires being crossed-
Skin slapping against skin, girl crying, non-responsive-
"You still with us, Kouzai?" I open one of my eyes and look up to see Kawakami's unimpressed gaze staring back. I shake my head and get my notebooks out, while she sighs and continues on with the lesson.
'I'm going to go insane in this place.'
4/13 Afternoon
The bell rang out, this time only managing to make my ears feel like they were imploding on themselves. I put my books away and walk to the front desk. Kawakami fishes out my pills from a drawer.
"Listen, I-" I snatch the bottle from her hands and continue to the door. She lets out a little yelp. "Kouzai-!" I slam the door closed, not caring about the other students piling out of the room. I head to the roof, dodging past everyone as best I could. Once I get to the door with roof access, I open the bottle and pour eight pills onto my palm, putting them in my mouth and swallowing them immediately. It wouldn't do much to stop the pain, but it would at least dull it enough that I wouldn't be at risk of a meltdown at the continued exposure I was being subjected to, not at all helped by my current state.
Throwing the pills in my bag, I let my senses scan out and feel for Sakamoto. When I hear the sound of knee bones chafing together unnaturally, I head down the stairs and to the change room in the gymnasium in order to get ready for the upcoming volleyball rally.
I had to wait until the room was empty until I decided to change. The process itself was a slow from my overstrained muscles. It gave me a chance to check my wounds, which thankfully hadn't worsened and bled onto the bandages. They were closed by now, scabs beginning to already form over them.
Zipping up the red track sweater, I entered the gym and found Sakamoto leaning on the far wall, arms crossed and a leg propped up. I went over to him and when he saw me coming his face practically lit up.
"Hey man." He kicked off the wall and held out a hand. I held out mine, not sure why he wanted to shake hands, then he wrapped his hand around my thumb and the back of my own hand, shaking it up and down as he tried to pull me close. He stumbled a bit at doing so due to my confusion at the odd handshake and we were left awkwardly holding hands on the gym floor. "Uh..." He looked to his hand, so I quickly pulled away.
"Hi." I cleared my throat, stuffing my hands in my sweater pockets.
"You got a strong grip there." Sakamoto let out a small chuckle, wringing his hand back and forth. Ignoring the well of guilt in my stomach at the sight, I went beside him and leaned my back against the wall.
"Any suggestions for who we should talk to first?" Sakamoto blinked for a moment, before nodding and resuming his old position on the wall.
"Yeah." His tone took on more serious and quieter edge as he scanned around the room as if we were being watched. "Once the teachers and volleyball team roll in, we should be able to ditch and ask around. Not all of the members will be playing, so we'll start with them." I nodded, looking out at the other students setting up the net.
None of them looked enthusiastic, taking their time to tighten the net on the posts. Even from where I was standing, I could see the variety of bruises and bandages populating the members, hear the grinding of bones from healing micro fractures, even the occasional full fracture. I took a deep breath through my nose, my jaw working around in circles as I just stood there, doing nothing but watching.
"Nervous?" Sakamoto was giving me a concerned look that I could see from the side of my vision.
"No." He quirked his brow up, but the flatness of the answer seemed to be enough for him as he looked back ahead and slid down on the wall, sitting. I stayed standing.
Eventually, the rally begins. It's an... odd affair. Watching out of shape or uninvested teachers and Kamoshida pelt volleyballs against a revolving team of young, beaten-up students wasn't what I would classify as entertaining. It didn't help that whenever Kamoshida scored a point, usually by spiking the ball into one of the students hard enough that just hearing the sound it made hurt, the teachers wouldn't practically trip over themselves to congratulate him.
I let my eyes trail off from the game, my stomach feeling sick just looking at the farce, seeing Takamaki-san sitting alone on the sidelines in chair, idly fiddling with a length of hair, the rest of the girls not on the actual teams cheering Kamoshida on.
"Still sticks out. Hasn't changed a bit." I look down to Sakamoto, himself staring at Takamaki-san. There's a despondent look in his eyes and the sad way he said the words made me want to ask about their history, but it didn't feel right to do so at this time. He caught me looking at him, stretching his arms up and letting out a long yawn. I could feel one of my own rising at the sight, but I held it down. "Pretty boring, right?" He smirked up at me as he popped one of his shoulders.
"Hm." I turned my attention back to the game and just in time to, as Kamoshida let loose another spike of his. This time, the sound it made when it impacted against a student's face actually made me flinch, as did the rest of the gymnasium when the boy in question fell to the ground, cradling his face. I pushed off the wall, Sakamoto shooting upwards as the volleyball rolled to my feet. I made a move to run towards the downed student, but Kamoshida beat me to the punch.
"Sorry." He spat the word out, sounding as sympathetic as he could, but it was written all over his face that he was more annoyed than anything. When he knelt to pick the boy up, I could feel every muscle in his body twitch as the man laid his hands on him, Kamoshida putting more pressure than necessary on the boy's arm. I tried to move towards them, but some other students went and grabbed him, taking him to the nurse's office. After a few moments, Kamoshida's mask switched back to its cheerful visage. I could see his lips curl up sadistically from where I was standing. My hands balled up and I started to head towards him.
"Ease up dude." Sakamoto put his hand on my shoulder, causing me to look back to him. "We'll get him. Just you wait." I stared at him for a while, taking slow, deep breaths through my nose before I shook my head and walked to the doors.
Volleyball heading towards me, impact in five seconds. The sound of the spike registers as the information pools in my mind and I twist my eyes to the direction of the incoming projectile. Behind it, I can see Kamoshida's sneer plastered on his face as he slowly falls to the ground, my reaction time going into overdrive from fight or flight taking affect.
'Pathetic.' I make a move to dodge and-
People behind me, girl talking to her friend. I look to my right and see two third years, one talking animatedly, the other, a girl with shoulder length silk brown hair who was looking at her nails with a bored expression on her face. If I dodged, it'd hit her. I closed my eyes and prepped myself for the oncoming hit.
A dull THWUMP reverberated throughout the room. First, the side of my face feels like it's been bitten by a hundred ants. Then, it spreads throughout my upper body, the stabbing warmth permeating across my face and flowing into my shoulders. I went still, the entire room going dead silent. I kept my neck craned from absorbing the hit, letting the small waves of pain slowly fade away. The only sound left in the gymnasium was the sound of my breathing, along with the poorly hidden sniggers of the man who launched the ball towards me. My eyes trailed over to him. His arms were crossed, a fist in front of his twisted sneer that he was failing to hide.
"Sorry about that." He coughed out, straightening himself, resting his hands on his hips. "Guess my aim's really off today, huh?" A spattering of laughs and chuckles spread out. I felt my eye twitch.
"The hell man?!" Sakamoto rushed to my side, anger splayed across his face. "Decking one student ain't enough for you?!" Kamoshida scowled at his accusation, before he just as quickly took on a belittling smirk.
"Relax, Sakamoto. It was just an accident." He waved a hand at me. "Besides, I'm sure a guy like him has dealt with worse." I could hear a few chuckles from the other students and Sakamoto was left straining his teeth in spot at the joke. I looked away from him and continued towards the door. "Hey." At least, I tried. "Pass the ball back here."
I turned my head, Kamoshida's ever-present arrogant face greeting my eyes, worsening my already agonizing headache. One of his eyebrows is cocked upwards in a challenging look, a terse silence growing the longer I stay still. Eventually, his face falters a bit at my inaction. "You deaf? Hurry it up." My eyes narrow, so I decide to act. I walk forward, putting a foot directly on top of the volleyball, then press down.
The POP that erupts in the room deafens me for a moment. Everyone's eyes practically bulge out of their sockets, at least for the ones that don't wince at the sudden explosion of compressed air being released. I stay still for a moment, Kamoshida stares back at me, bug eyed and jaw slack, a trail of sweat going down the side of his face as I stare back, daring him to speak up. I leave everyone flatfooted as I continue towards the doors again. I can hear Sakamoto stumbling to follow me. I cast a quick glance towards Takamaki-san, her eyes are as wide as everyone else's, before quickly shifting to a questioning look as our eyes meet for a fraction of a second. I go past her and open the doors of the gymnasium, holding them open slightly as Sakamoto catches up.
"Dude!" I wince slightly at his volume as he catches up to me and the door closes. "How'd you pop a freaking volleyball?!"
"By stepping on it." I could feel the corner of my lip stretch upwards, but it quickly died down. I turn to face Sakamoto. "So, you know where to start?" Whatever traces of joviality fade from Sakamoto's face, a confident taking its place.
"Yeah. I'll start here, near the gym. You can try the other side of the place." I nodded and turned. "Wait a sec," I turned my head to face him, "what about that guy that just got decked in the face. Uh, Mishida? He's in your class."
"Mishima." I corrected him, then looked away, my eyes scrunching in thought. He'd likely be able to help, but given what just happened... "Let him rest for now. We can talk to him after school." Sakamoto nodded, then held out a hand.
"Good luck man." I looked at the appendage, bringing out my own. He slapped his own across it, then pat me on the shoulder as he walked by. I was left alone, confused at the action.
Shaking my head, I put my hand in my pocket and walked down the halls, the sounds of volleyballs hitting against skin getting louder the more I walked away. Sometimes, they'd even hit the floor.
My eyes narrowed. I prayed that this excursion would go well.
4/13 Afternoon
I walked, slowly, into the alcove, trudging to the vending machine. I grab my wallet, shove some coins into the slot, bending the metal. The water bottle thuds into the dispenser and I drink the entire thing empty in one motion.
My investigation had not gone well.
The evidence of abuse was clear. Every person I encountered had a bruises and bandages on them to varying degrees, but the second I talked to them about Kamoshida they clammed up, their eyes growing rife with fear. Then, they'd recognize me, so their fear would grow even further.
'I just want to help them.' I ran my hand through my hair, pulling some of it to try and relieve the tension my head. I'm here, doing nothing but talking to them instead of actually doing something, making them safe from that bastard. Instead, I'm just making them more scared.
A loud SMACK, a cry. A body falling to the ground, wincing. Kamoshida lands back down from his latest spike.
I threw the empty bottle to the wall and I can feel the wounds of my back shriek in response. My back tenses, forcing me to limp to the divider and placed my hands on them, leveling my breath as best I could. 'Damn this place.'
Footsteps approaching, coming to the corner.
I turn my head, with Ann Takamaki rounding the corner just as I did so, flinching as soon as she sees the expression that must be on my face. My chest tightens. The faces of those boys and girls I saved the day before I came here flash in front of my eyes. Their terrified faces.
Making people scared. More than they already are.
"What?" Her voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn my head away and let out a deep, lough breath.
"Rough day." I droll out. 'Rough night, rough morning on top of it.' I shook my head, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of it as I turned to face her, crossing my arms and leaning against the damp, concrete divider. "Sorry if I startled you." She leveled an odd look at me.
"What's your deal?" I gave her my own odd look. There was no accusation in her voice, just blunt curiosity and confusion.
"How do you mean?" A flash of something crosses her face, too fast for me to decipher it.
"I slapped you." She waved the offending appendage responsible for said slap upwards, to which I notice a red tinge around her wrist. "Remember?"
"I do." A small pause formed between us.
"And?" ….
"And what?" She looked at me as if I grew a new head, before whatever traces of confusion and rising anger faded away into an expression I didn't like seeing on her face. An expression I've seen before on other teenage girls. An expression that should never be on teenage girls.
"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but whatever you've got going on with Kamoshida, just cut it out, alright?" My hands tighten around my arms, my throat constricting at the defeat in her voice.
"I know what he's doing." She stops, her mouth thinning into a straight line as her eyes widen, her hands beginning to tremble. "I've been exposed to people like him before. I recognized what kind of person he was the second I saw him." I push off the wall and her hands rush to her cover herself up as she backs away. I raise my own in a placating gesture. "I want to help you."
"How?" She croaks out, the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "What the hell can you do?" I want to say what I'm planning to do, but the words die in my throat.
"Hey!" Sakamoto comes from the hallway leading to the alcove, causing Takamaki-san to jump at the sudden intrusion. "What're you grilling him for?" I wince at the slightly harsh tone he's using.
"What's it to you, Ryuji?" Takamaki-san fires back.
"He's my buddy." I look to Sakamoto at the word choice, feeling uneasy with it.
"When did that happen?" Takamaki-san crossed her arms, leveling a questioning glare at the both of us.
"What, I can't have buddies?" She looks ready to shoot out another biting response, but her eyes flick between the two of us. Her entire posture sags, the energy leaving her body so quickly and easily as she heaves out an exhausted sigh.
"Look, I don't know what your whole deal is, but whatever you two are doing, just stop." She turns away from us and begins to walk down the opposing hall. "You're never going to get anywhere and no one's going to do anything if you did."
"Meaning you know something's going on." Sakamoto immediately challenged her. Takamaki-san twisted back to face him, a terse look on her face.
"I said drop it." Her words are clipped and strained.
"No." I speak up, both of their eyes focusing on me. I don't give her a chance to intercede. "You're scared," her hands tighten, her eyes twitch, "and you have every right to be." I walk up to her, until I'm only a few inches away from her, looking down into her eyes with a steel gaze. "But we won't let Kamoshida get away with what he's done to you. With what he's done to others." She blinks.
"What do you mean by that?" I blink in turn, confused. How could she not know about what he's doing to the volleyball team? It then clicked with me; with what she must deal with, it makes sense that she wouldn't notice what's going on around her. I felt Sakamoto put a hand on my shoulder and turned to look at him.
"Come on man." He gestured his head down the hall, his voice soft and quiet. I looked back to Takamaki-san, seeing how on edge she was because of me, so I listened to him, turning away and walking down the hall. "We're gonna bury that bastard," I heard Sakamoto as I walked further away. "I don't know why you're defending him, but if you knew half the shit he pulled behind your back, you wouldn't." My eyes narrowed and hands coiled into fists as I heard him turn away and rush back to my side.
"You think she's defending him?" Sakamoto looks to me as we walk, his eyes furrowed at how low my voice was.
"Well, uh, no, it's just..." He fumbles with every word that comes out of his mouth, before he hangs his head and sighs. "I just don't get why she and everyone else doesn't just rat him out and help us, you know?" My hands lose their tension. I take a calming breath through my nose.
"She's scared." I look behind me. She's still standing in the alcove, a hand clutching her arm, shivering. "Everyone in this school already thinks the worst of her and Kamoshida is a former gold medalist that is practically fawned over." All the past jaunts and shaming that I heard the other students pelt her way spring to mind and it only makes me feel worse at how little I'm able to do to make her feel safer in these damn halls. "To her, there's no way out." I can feel my eyes sharpen, my chest filling with heat. 'At least, there wasn't before.'
"Yeah, I guess I can get that." Sakamoto mumbles more to himself than me. I cast a quick glance at him. A forlorn expression is on his face. I want to ask what he means by that, but I leave it be.
"Any ideas on how to go forward?" To be perfectly honest, I was done wasting my time here, not accomplishing anything. It was good that today was only a half day thanks to the rally, otherwise I don't think I'd be able to make it through a whole day of school after all of this.
"Not really." Sakamoto sounds as defeated as I feel. Then his eyes widened and snapped his finger, making me flinch at the sudden change and sound. "Wait, we're forgetting about that Mishima guy!" My brows furrow at the mention of him. I cast my senses out to the nurse's office to see if he was in any condition to even talk.
Bruises forming, other ones only just beginning to heal. Steady heartbeat, resting in bed, ice against temple. "I screwed up again." He whimpers.
My hands tighten and I take another calming breath. "We'll wait until after the bell rings, which shouldn't be long." Sakamoto nods enthusiastically. We walk back to the changing rooms. I could hear the games in the gym dying down, the winner of the games being obvious.
"Way to go, Kamoshida!" Goes to clap hands. Sweaty palms ring out against the walls.
"Thanks! Glad to be of help!" Voice is shrill, delighted. Genuinely happy. Serotonin rushing.
Sweat pouring from skin, bones creaking, lungs wheezing. Bruises and welts already forming on chests and arms, wincing at the touch.
The metal on the locker that held my school uniform groaned and when I let go a hand shaped grip mark was left along the edge of it. I let out a breath and grabbed my uniform, moving to a bathroom stall to change.
I slid my shirt and pants off, deciding to do a more thorough inspection of my wounds than my earlier one. I took the fact that they had settled into a dull throb throughout the day as a good sign and removing the sides of the bandages and wraps showed a collection of ugly, but healing scabs over them already. Bits of dried blood and dead, pus coated skin stuck to the reddish-orange cloths and I felt stupid for not bringing replacements for them.
Feeling satisfied, I changed and left the room and just in time as well, since it was now occupied by a stream of battered and depressed students slowly peeling off sweat infused clothes. I stopped, as for the first time I got a good look at the damage Kamoshida did that wasn't weakly covered up.
I'd only seen bruises that bad on the ones I regularly dealt out when I was holding back . Red marks in the shape of volleyball print were plastered in several different areas of the back and chest, the natural pigment of their arms was completely replaced by a swelling red tinge that was being already being replaced by a green shade, with specks of purple and black complimenting them.
The mood of the room only made what I saw worse. No one was talking to one another, congratulating themselves on a good game or joking between one another. Everyone just had an empty, pained look on their faces, looking as though they were afraid to speak up, as though Kamoshida would be able to hear them through the walls.
"What're you looking at?" One of them barks at me, my eyes trailing over to him. He attempts to glare at me, but it's undercut by the growing black eye that he has. Everyone stops what they're doing, their attention landing onto me.
I want to say something. I want to say a lot. That it's going to get better. That it's going to stop. That I'm going to do to Kamoshida what he's done to all of them twice over.
I turn away and walk out the room. They resume their depressed malaise after a few minutes. I find Sakamoto leaning on a wall near the nurse's office. His face shifts as he turns to look at me. "Dude, you okay?"
"Fine." I rush the word out. He clearly doesn't believe me by the way his face twists in sympathy.
"I get it man, I do. Had to deal with all of this bullshit last year myself." He chuckles humorlessly and I give him my own look of sympathy. "Anyway," then like that, he's back to being carefree and casual, "bell's about to ring, so hopefully we can manage to get something out of today." I stared at Sakamoto, my mouth slightly agape. His switches between somberness and joviality made it difficult to get a grasp on his personality. Granted, I wasn't an authority when it came to social interaction and understanding others, but it didn't make the whiplash any less confounding.
The door to the nurse's office opened, Sakamoto and I snapping our heads to the motion. Mishima drug his feet out the door, his eyes looking downwards without really looking at anything. A fresh bandage was on his face. I prepped myself, noting my failed encounters with Kamoshida's victims. With two of us, we'd have to be more delicate in our approach.
"Yo, Mishima!" Sakamoto called out, pushing off the wall and throwing an arm over Mishima's shoulders. His face scrunched up in confusion. When his eyes met mine, they widened in fear. "You volleyball guys getting abused?" I made a sound in my throat that I didn't know I was capable of making and gaped at Sakamoto in shock.
Delicacy wasn't one of his strong points it seemed.
"W-What?" Mishima croaked out and his eyes somehow grew wider. "No, of course not!"
I step in, an idea forming in my mind. "We already know."
Mishima snaps his focus to me, his face twisted in surprise. "Y-you do?"
Sakamoto grinned. He gave me a thumbs up. "We do now!" Mishima's already pale face pales even further.
"N-no, that's not it. Kamoshida just pushes us really hard so we can do better." My eyes narrow and I can feel whatever patience I have left for the lies this school pushes for die.
"Don't." My voice immediately causes him to go quiet, Sakamoto looking at me with a quirked expression. "I've seen plenty of bruises in my life. None of yours come from simple practice." Every word made Mishima's face contort, as if I was exposing one embarrassing secret after another. "You can help stop it." I make sure to let my voice go soft to not make him any more on edge as he already was. He looks away, his face slack. Sakamoto repositions himself in front of Mishima, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I was on the track team when Kamoshida was coaching it last year." Sakamoto's face hardens, making me look to him in worry. "I know what you're going through man, probably better than anyone here." There's a lurch to his voice as he continues and I get the feeling that there's more to what he said than what was being said right now.
"We want to inform the police." Mishima's eyes close shut, tight, yet I decide to press on despite that. "If not them, then at least your parents." He mumbles something. The words I can make out cause my chest to go flush with ice.
"Huh? What was that?" Sakamoto asks.
"They already know." He repeats. I stare at him, not comprehending what he just said. Sakamoto shares my shock. "Our parents, the teachers, the principal, they already know. They don't care so long as we get into a good school due to the team's prestige. It's just a means to an end for them."
…. I don't... I can't even begin to understand any of that. My arms feel hollow, my stomach turns in on itself, my chest flows with ice in my veins. "That's crazy! They can't just ignore this shit!" Sakamoto relays the anger I should be feeling for me. Mishima glares at the two of us and seems to find his courage.
"Just drop it!" Some fire immediately leaves him the moment the words leave his mouth and his face adopts its standard beaten down look. "This is how things work here. I don't want what happened to you to happen to me. And Kouzai..." His lip curls before he continues. "I don't want to be labeled like you. So just stop. Leave it alone. Leave me alone." He walks away. We make no move to stop him.
My heart thrums in my chest in slow, rhythmic beats, but it does nothing to distract the nausea I feel building up. We stand still in the hall, no one giving us any mind when they spot us in passing as the bell rings for home. I don't wince this time. Every part of my body feels numb, tingling with pin pricks of cold through my fingers and limbs. My vision is swimming, barely focusing on one thing.
Sakamoto sidling up to me brings me back to reality. "Let's uh," he gestures with his arm, struggling to find the words, "let's just head home." He walks forward, but I don't follow. "Look, we'll... we'll figure something-"
"How?" Sakamoto stops. "How can a parent do something like this to their child?" This went beyond negligence. There was no justification for it. My parents-
My parents...
I look up. Sakamoto's lips are thin, his eyes hard. He pats me on the shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kouzai." He walks away. I feel the impulse to stop him. I don't.
I eventually remember how to move and make my way through the halls. Everyone parts way when they see me walk near them, but I'm too lost in my thoughts pay them any-
"Did you see how cool Kamoshida-sensei was at the rally?"
I stop. A girl and her friend are at the other end of the hall behind me. I only need my powers to help make out what they're saying.
"Yeah! It's so awesome to have an Olympic medalist at our school!"
My hand curls into a fist. 'Lucky?'
"Wish I could say the same for the volleyball team though. They always look so down."
"Especially that Shiho. She's their best player, but she has this look like it's beneath her or something. She even gets one-on-one sessions with Kamoshida."
My blood goes cold at hearing that. My heart hammers in my ears. I only barely make out what they say next.
"Seriously? She should get over herself. She gets the privilege of being taught by a guy like Kamoshida. What a bitch."
My blood then gets replaced by seething fire and I whirl my attention towards the two so fast I can hear bones pop. One of them notices me immediately, her skin turning pale at the look I give her. Her friend notices and looks my way as well, repeating the action. They both grab each other's hand and run down the halls as quickly as they can.
"Hey, what's your problem jack-" the rebuke from the boy next to me is cut off as I focus my eyes on him. His throat goes dry and his eyes shrink in as I look down on him. Everyone around me backs away, forming a circle of space. The boy wises up and goes to join them.
My breath comes in and out through my nose in slow, furious motions. I move to the stairs, the gaggle of idiots' parting ways as I get to them. 'This place is a prestigious academy?' All I'd seen of this sorry excuse of a school was a man preying on and abusing his own students, an indifferent and negligent staff and a completely oblivious and disgustingly petty student population. The only thing anyone could potentially learn from this place was how not to run a teaching establishment.
I don't calm down by the time I make it to the entrance foyer, but the sight of Takamaki-san and a girl with her makes me pause in my step. She's dressed in her gym uniform, a brace around her knee, hair done up in a ponytail. There's a slight bruise forming on one of her eyes and they have a glazed look to them that I easily recognize. She and Takamaki-san smile as they part ways. Even from this distance I can see how forced and awkward it is.
I make my way to the doors, Takamaki-san doing the same while not noticing me. Her friend looks at her back, face scrunched up in worry. She turns away and notices me. Her eyes light up a small bit. "Oh, you're Kouzai-kun, right?" I stop, looking down at her, not expecting the interaction.
"Hm." Was my tactful reply, given how caught off guard I was. I hurriedly bowed my head slightly and added, "Nice to meet you." She let out a giggle.
"Nice to meet you too." Her voice is high pitched, but there's a tiredness laced in it that's impossible for me to miss. "I'm Shiho Suzui." She reaches her hand out. I hesitantly take it. Her palm is incredibly calloused, with recently healed over patches of rubbed off skin and newly forming rough spots replacing them. I can hear her knee creak and groan in uncomfortable motions, the muscles around it swelling and tightening in tandem. It makes me feel sick to my stomach at what she's gone through.
She lets go of my hand then looks around, biting her lip. There are only a few students left in the halls now, none of them paying us any attention. "Um, I know this is going to sound kind of weird, coming from someone you just met, but are you okay?"
"... Am I okay?" Why did that matter?
"I've heard all of the rumors about you." I open my lips to try and say something, looking away in shame, but she misinterprets it as indignation, bringing her hands up. "Oh, don't worry, I don't believe them. You don't seem the delinquent type to me." I'm left speechless, fumbling with my mouth, trying to find some way to react to this. What I was going through wasn't anything to worry about.
Even so, she was going out of her way to see how I was doing. "Thank you for your concern." I say, but it can't help but sound hollow to my ears and I don't even look at her as I say it.
"I have a good friend who had to deal with a lot of bad rumors last year, so I get how rough it can be." I wince, knowing who she's talking about. Again, she mistakes my reaction for pain at what I'm going through. "Don't worry. It'll get better."
"I'm not the one who needs help." I shoot out before I can stop myself. Suzui-san blinks at me and I turn my head to face her again. "Volleyball practice?" I point to her knee. Her eyes widen and lips go into a thin line, skin losing color. I push on, despite knowing I shouldn't. "I know what he's doing." She brings her arms up to her chest, grasping the fabric of her shirt. It makes my neck tighten up. I control myself and put my hands up, slowly grabbing hers. She doesn't flinch as I bring them down, holding them in a soft grip. "I want to help. To stop him." Only then does she seize up, snatching her hands away from mine.
"No." She squeaks out, nearly hyperventilating. My heart plummets to my stomach and it feels like I'm about to vomit it out. "I don't-" She mumbles, backing away from me. "I don't want him to hurt you to."
"He can't." I nearly shout but hold back, edging closer to her. "Suzui-san-" she holds a hand out, grasping one of mine again. It makes my throat close up. Suzui stays quiet for a moment, looking down on the ground before she brings her attention back up to me. She's smiling, but there's no color to her eyes.
"Thank you, Kouzai-kun, but it's nothing, really." She whispers to me. My entire body goes cold at every word. "I've got to get to practice." She lets go of my hand and walks by. I make an effort to reach back out, but my body feels as if it's being weighed down by an ocean. "Take care. Everything will be alright."
She walks away. I don't move. Eventually I'm the only one still I the foyer. I force my legs to carry me out of this place.
I'm not helping them. I'm just scaring them. I'm not doing anything but making things worse.
The wounds on my body twitch and pull, reminding me of last night's failures, blood flowing though my hands.
A door flashes in front of my eyes. I can hear someone crying behind it.
My fingers dig into my palm hard enough to draw blood.
I only ever make things worse for others.
4/13 After School
I somehow managed to arrive at the train station despite being so lost in my thoughts. The regular crowds of people and influx of surrounding noise and stimuli that would be a familiar and much needed distraction only register on a surface level. I still feel the suffocating air and hear the cacophony of empty conversations, but it's like feeling the wind. It's just there. Normally, I'd revel in the brief moment of peace I was granted.
"Will you give it a rest?! I told you that I'm not feeling up to it!" Then I'd remember that was never an option for me. Looking to the side, I can see Ann Takamaki yelling into her phone. I'm too distracted to hear what's being said on the other side, but I don't need to hear it to know who it is. "Wait, what?! That's not what you-" She stops, her eyes brimming with tears and throat clutching. "This has nothing to do with Shiho!" The line goes dead, leaving her completely rudderless, her body going slack.
I'm the only one paying any attention to the sight, everyone else around us moving away or only giving a cursory glance. The ones that do say things that make my blood boil and tempts me to cave their jaws into jagged edges of bones and skin. The anger does enough to reinvigorate me from my haze. I walk over to Takamaki-san. She whirls her attention to me so fast that her pigtails hit her face, wiping the scant few tears on her cheeks away.
"What do you want now?" She doesn't yell, but the venom in er voice is clear as day. I don't answer though, instead just staying put. She sucks in a breath. "Why can't you just leave me alone?! You don't know what I'm going though, let alone even know anything about me!" She gets closer to me as she yells, making my ears ring. She pushes a finger into my chest, unknowingly hitting a bandage. I wince, but ignore the stabbing pain. "Just go away!" She brings the hand back and balls it into a fist, hitting my chest with a weak punch over the same spot. My lips curl, but that's the only sign of my discomfort.
Her eyes are closed, she's breathing heavily, on the verge of hyperventilating. I stay there, letting her get all of her anger out. Her chest and back stutter with each sob and her head eventually rests itself against my own chest. Her fist unfolds and grabs onto my blazer. I bring an arm up to her back, resting my hand on her hood.
Every word I'd said to her had done nothing so far. This is the least I could do.
Eventually, she calms down enough and brings me to a small café near the station. We sit across from each other in a corner booth, water's sitting unused in front of us.
"I'm sorry." Her voice is soft and coarse, her eyes focused on the ice melting in her cup. "For hitting you. Twice." She laughs at herself, but it comes out more like a scoff. "For being such a bitch to you."
"You don't have anything to apologize for." She blinks at the suddenness of my reply. "It's understandable, given what you're going through." Her lips twist and I feel like a moron for bringing it up. Then her expression deflates, looking down to her water again, beginning to fiddle with the napkin next to it.
"You really freaked me out." It's my lips that twist up this time. "When you got into the car with me and Kamoshida. When we first met, I thought you were just some awkward weirdo." …. Not inaccurate. "Then you got all confrontational with him and I-" the words peter out of her mouth, letting out a quiet sigh before she continues. "How did you know about..." She looks up at me, her eyes staring into mine, trying to find some sort of answer.
"... The neighborhood I grew up in wasn't the best." The dirty streets, derelict buildings, abandoned cars, used needles in alleyways, used people in alleyways; they all flash through my mind. "You learn who's safe to walk next to and who's not very fast when you live in places like that." Smells that weren't present begin to fill my nostrils, sounds of people being abused in so many ways overtake my ears. I take a drink of water to get rid of them. "Kamoshida reminded me of the latter."
"Oh." Takamaki-san states, looking at me with pity. It makes me uncomfortable, but I deal with it. She takes a shuddering breath before she continues. "Everyone thinks I'm sleeping with Kamoshida. Because of how I look, they think I'm easy. I'm not fully Japanese, but you probably figured that out."
I nod. My hand grips my knee with enough strength to bend steel.
"He does that thing with the car a lot. Thinks it'll convince me to have sex with him, showing how nice he is." The way she emphasizes the word tells me that this is something that she's experienced, even before Kamoshida. "I could ignore it at first. But my friend Shiho," her voice hitches and I suck in a breath at the mention of Suzui-san, "she's on the volleyball team. Their best player, even." A smile graces her face, breaking through her sadness. It's beautiful. "She's relying on a scholarship in order to get a good college. But Kamoshida keeps threatening to kick her off if I don't-" She chokes up, bringing a hand to her mouth. Tears are streaming down her face again.
….
Tonight. It's happening tonight. It doesn't matter what else comes up. If anything is stupid enough to get in my way, whether it be gangbangers, metal clad assassins, or God himself, I'll make sure they join him in whatever pit he gets sent to. Tokyo could burn away for all I care right now.
I'm putting that animal down tonight.
"That was him on the phone. He wants to meet up. Like, now." She cries out. "I don't know what to do."
"Don't." The word is immediate. It snaps her attention, my voice harder than metal. "Don't go."
"...That's it?" She snorts, wiping a tear away. Her lips curl upwards. "Just don't go?"
"Hm." I nod. "It's the right decision."
"...Huh." She laughs. For once it's a real one. "When you put it like that, I guess it's kind of obvious." She laughs again, but the forlorn way she said the words didn't sit right with me.
"Takamaki-san." She looks to me. This is the softest I've ever heard my voice get. "This isn't your fault." She goes quiet, her hand gripping the now torn napkin she was fiddling with.
"I-I know." She squeaks out, not looking me in the eye. "It's just-"
"It isn't your fault." I don't let her finish. I've seen women in her position torture themselves far too often. They did nothing wrong. "You didn't do anything wrong." My eyes go hard, my voice firm. "It's him. And him alone." And the teachers who don't notice it, or do nothing to stop it. And the students, who waste their time with baseless, disgusting rumors. And the parents for not protecting their children.
And me. For letting it go on too long.
A silence forms between us. Her eyes bore into me, wide and shocked, mouth hanging open. It clamps shut. The tears begin to stop. She smiles again, the sight of it making anger that was filling me vanish.
"This is the first time I've ever really talked about this stuff with anyone." She brings the torn napkin to her face, wiping away the last remnants of tears. "So, uh, thanks."
"It wasn't much." She lets out a small laugh.
"I can't make heads or tails of you." I'm left confused by that, but she gets up and stretches out of the booth. "I should head home now."
"Do you want me to come with you?" She waves off the offer.
"Thanks, but I'll be good." She walks to my chair, looking down at me. For the first time I've seen, there's no tension in her face at all. "And seriously. Thank you for trying to help me out. Even if you've been kind of weird about it."
"Hm." I nod. She lets out another laugh and it feels like the best medicine I've ever taken for my abilities. Before she gets too far, I stop her. "Takamaki-san." She turns. "It will get better. I promise." She stays quiet, clasping the strap of her bag in a firm grip with her one hand. She nods, her smile looking just a bit smaller.
"You can call me Ann. And if there's anything you need to talk to me about, I'll be there." I blink, not expecting the gesture. She leaves the café before I can think of a response.
I stay sitting in the booth for a few moments, not caring that I missed my train. Taking a few seconds to collect myself, I take a deep breath. A small thrum comes from my injuries, the emanating waves washing over me. Oddly, they don't hurt. Instead, they serve as an encouragement for tonight, giving me more and more energy that I would need.
I get up from the booth, leaving money on the table.
'It will get better.' My eyes narrow, my every step resonating in my ears. 'I'll make sure of it.'
4/13 Early Evening
"You're late." Sakura says the second I open the door. The café is, again, empty.
"Missed the train. Got held up with cleaning the volleyball rally." The lie comes easily, my voice taking its usual monotone. My mood darkens at the mention of the rally, but I stow down the images. It won't be like that anymore from tonight onwards.
"You're staying here the whole night." I stop at the bottom of the stairs, the rail straining under my grip. "Sorry kid, but you've got to follow some ground rules. Give it some time, I'll get lenient, but for now you leave only when I let you."
Deep breath in, deep breath out. "Alright." I go upstairs, throw my bag on the couch, then sit on the bed. I fold my hands and bring them up to my mouth, then wait.
Customers come and go. Fresh coffee is brewed and makes its way into my nostrils. It smells good, doing wonders for the tension in the back of my head. Sakura gets to work at cleaning dishes when they die down and eventually calls up, telling me that he's closing up. He gives me a warning that if he catches me out, he's throwing me out
I listen to him as he walks to his front door, closing it, then turns the lock.
I bolt to the cubby and go out the window so fast that the bedsheets I ruffled fall back onto the bed when I reach the roof. I almost rip the zipper off when I open it and grab whatever spares for an outfit I had in there. All that was left was my one spare outfit, made exactly for a situation where one would get too damaged.
I changed and shoved all of my school uniform into the bag, webbing it to the roof. I grabbed my work phone from my belt and punched Kamoshida's address into it. It pinged immediately.
I put it back, then slipped my mask on. The lenses narrow. Anticipation fills my body.
'I'm coming for you, Kamoshida.' I crouch down and shoot off the roof, a web line soon following. 'Pray you're ready.'
4/13 Evening
Kamoshida pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex. He stretched when he exited his car, a satisfying crack coming from his back. "Damn, guess I'm working too hard." He chuckled to himself. 'Not like it's my fault the team needs so much work.' Thinking on his 'team' of whining brats makes his face scrunch up in anger, but it soon washes away.
All the work he put into making them something resembling good and all he got was a bunch of whining little shits. Didn't they know they were working with an Olympic gold medalist? Trash like them needed to learn how to appreciate what their betters did for them. Something he was more than happy to oblige in.
It was quite simple really. People on the bottom of the totem pole couldn't help but leech off of those above them. It was the only way they could hope to get even a glimmer of what he got every day. He was quick to reminder them of what they really were though.
His thoughts drift to the transfer student, and his lips form an unconscious sneer. The little shit had been a pain in the ass since day one, acting like some sort of bodyguard for that slut Ann. He had no idea why, but somehow Kamoshida knew that he was going to be a problem. The next couple of days with that Kouzai prick further and further pissing him off only helped to make that sense of paranoia grow. Even decking him during the game did nothing to help.
Thankfully, that weasel Mishima was nice enough to tell him what he and Sakamoto was doing. He couldn't help but laugh when he heard it. What the hell could those two wastes of air hope to accomplish? Like anyone would believe them. Still, the fact that piece of garbage was going outside of his lane was enough to piss Kamoshida off.
So, with all of that, coupled with Ann playing hard to get, it only made sense for him to find a better way to relax. Not like there was anything wrong with it, he had needs after all.
The smile that made its way on to Kamoshida's face was large and satisfied. He lopped his keys around finger, spinning it before he slid it into his door's lock. 'Not my fault she doesn't know how to look after her friend.' Closing the door behind him, he threw the keys into their bowl and walked down the entrance hall to the living room. He could do with a quick bit of reminiscing before bed.
However, when he turned the corner, instead of seeing his pride and joy where it was supposed to be; between two pillars of display cases showing his hard-earned victories, which he achieved through his blood, sweat and tears; what he instead saw was empty space.
His heart sank into his stomach. 'No way. No fucking way! ' He ran over the pieces on the floor, looking at the center of open wall between two cases. The case for his gold medal was on the ground, with the medal itself missing. A shout of pure rage was about to leave his throat.
"Looking for this?" Kamoshida whirls his head around to the intrusion, only to be met with the color of gold coming towards him, then a punch harder than any he's ever taken before striking his head. His vision being replaced with pulsing stars. He felt the inside of his cheek split open, teeth loosening from their gums as his face was launched into broken shards of glass from the force of the blow.
He saw something drop from a thin line from the corner of his blurred vision. He attempted push away from the display case, throwing his arm out in a wild clothesline. A hand grabbed his sloppy fist, pulling it forward. Then he felt his elbow snap in the wrong direction. He tried to scream, but it was cut off by another anvil like fist hitting his other cheek. He heard little patters of something hitting the wood floor of his apartment.
He only recognized them as teeth when his feet were swept from under him and his head was driven through his coffee table, the sickening sound of wood taking over his ears and splinter being driven into his now smashed in nose. He felt himself getting lifted by his back and belt buckle before being harshly thrown onto his back, bits of glass and broken wood jutting into him.
Something went on top of him, and he only caught sight of the wrathful eyes of a black spider symbol before a series of blows came down on his head. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as blow after blow came down on him. He lost count of how many there were after the first punch took away his vision, his head going into that state of weightlessness whenever it got hit again and again. He could feel the jagged edges of some sort of metal object dig into his skin, breaking through it and making his cheekbone just out.
It stopped, and for a moment Kamoshida thought it was over. Then he felt one of his legs being lifted up, then felt something come down on it. He heard bone snap more than truly felt it before his voice had a chance to catch up and scream out. It was cut off by a knee driving into his gut, making him choke on the blood and spit pooling in his mouth. His unbroken arm was brought up. He heard a leg get placed near his head, then he felt his arm get moved to it. The hand holding it crushed the fingers in its grip, bringing the appendage down on the spider's knee until his broken fingers were nearly brushing the ground. He didn't have any more strength left to scream, only cry out in pitiful sobs, his swelling and split lips shooting jets of blood into his throat.
Then, it all stopped for a moment. He hoped that whoever was doing this was gone. That they had left and would leave them alone. Those thoughts were dashed when a foot came crashing down into his groin. Kamoshida let out such pathetic whimpers and mewling that he couldn't even comprehend that they were coming from him. He felt it again, again, again and again. A stream of liquids was pooling out from crushed organs. He honestly hoped it was urine.
The last things Suguru Kamoshida remembered was hearing the spider walk to his head. It crouched down one final time, the fist holding the golden, jagged metal going across his face on last time before his vision and mind went completely black.
He didn't know why, but it somehow clicked in the recesses of his brain what it was that was in his assailant's hand. 'My medal.' His could feel his lips try to go up. 'Thank god. He didn't take it.'
4/14 Midnight
I stood over Kamoshida, his breaths coming in slow, labored clips. My own came out in quick intervals through my nose, my chest rising and falling in tandem with every intake. Blood dripped my hands, the gold medal I used as an impromptu bludgeon having bits of skin flaking off of it.
A part of me couldn't help but feel that this was anticlimactic. Given how much trouble I had in trying to do this very thing the past couple of days, I suppose I was hoping for it to be more difficult than it actually was. Even the low-level throbbing of my injuries did nothing to... I guess amplify the difficulty of this moment.
Even so, I was finally able to put a stop to this bastard's actions. That enough was consolation for me.
I walked over his unconscious body, making sure to step over the pool of blood coming from his lips. I took the medal and crushed it in my hand until it was made into a thin line of brittle gold, dropping it on the floor as I got to the window. Despite this one victory here, there was still something else I needed to do tonight.
I heard the other tenants making phone calls to the police, so it was a good time for me to leave. I looked back at his twitching body as I mounted the windowsill. For a moment, I feel that I went too far with him. The type of sympathy anyone would experience when they saw someone as beaten as he was.
Then I reminded myself it was Kamoshida. Any empathy was doused in fire and died.
I looked back into the night sky. For once, I let myself enjoy the sense of accomplishment that washed over me as I shot out a web line and soared through the Tokyo skyline.
Finally, I stopped him. He wouldn't hurt anyone else ever again.
4/14 After Midnight
Shiho sat there in the empty office, curled into herself. It helped to make the pain less noticeable. But it was still there. It would always be there. A choked sob tore its way out of her throat.
"I can't take it anymore." She lifted her head up from her arms, hitting the wall with the back of it. Tears streamed down her face. "I'm sorry, Ann."
Author's Note:
And finally, Kamoshida has been dealt with! How will the differing events of his end affect the rest of the cast. And will the victory be bittersweet.
... I really shouldn't talk about this kind of stuff in an overdramatic tone.
Anywho, I live! And seriously, one of the aspects I wanted to highlight in this fic is that, since the Phantom Thieves don't exist in this world, it would seriously change the development of the members and the people around them. With this, I will truly begin the deep plunge into AU territory.
Also it was really fun writing Kamoshida getting the shit beat out of him. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did as catharsis for the long wait!
