Oh gosh, this chapter is super long! I started writing it, and then I thought it should be longer, which caused me to end up writing this monster. My condolences go out to those who prefer shorter chapters.
Please review! Reviews are like a writer's lifeblood, and they really help me improve my writing. There's no shame in letting me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.
They Danced The Red Waltz
A coward.
For as long as he's known, he's always been a coward.
Weak.
No, that wasn't right. He was strong, arguably stronger than most, but he could never make his own decisions.
Weak-willed. Yeah, that sounded better.
Cowardly and weak-willed. Man, how pathetic could he get?
He was a coward because he would always choose the easy way of life, even when the easy way was disgusting and terrible and horrible. His idiotic philosophy was that it took less work to wade through a mile-long puddle of mud than to walk the extra distance to avoid it.
That was something he always told himself. It was easier than outright admitting his cowardice.
There's that word again... easier.
The truth is, nothing was made easier. Even if he took the low road at every opportunity, it was never truly "easier." The motions were certainly much simpler, as they clearly outlined his moral ambiguity with lines of black and white—but, to be honest, it never truly defined him in the way he hoped it would.
He wanted his decisions to illustrate his character for him, so that when people knew about what he did and who he hurt and why he did those things, they would outright say, "Yeah, that guy? He's definitely a villain."
It was easier that way—much preferable to digging into his soul himself and figuring out who he really was.
But a villain wouldn't feel remorse, would they?
So what did that make him?
If he claimed to be a good person (which he didn't) while his actions remained morally appalling, would that make him a sort of antihero? Or would he just be some random douchebag who made terrible life choices?
Even now, the opportunity was there for him to end it all. In that moment, he was sitting on one of the bar stools, smoking a cigarette and sipping from a glass of whiskey. Nearby, Tetsuo was slumped on one of the sticky leather sofas, a beer in one hand and a manila folder in the other.
He had a switchblade in his pocket. Tetsuo did not.
He could do it, if he really wanted to. He could become the hero and save everyone.
But then again, someone like Tetsuo didn't need a switchblade to protect himself.
And then again, a coward is always a coward.
The door opened, and several other guys sauntered into the dimly lit room. A few of them greeted Hiro casually with a slap on the back, while others chose to acknowledge their superior in the room.
After the darkened room had filled up with all sorts of unsightly characters, Tetsuo sat up with a grunt and placed his half-empty beer bottle on the pool table in front of him. His cold gaze traveled around the room.
"We're missing some guys," he said. "Where are they?"
His question was met with silence, as everyone was too scared of his possible reaction to speak up. This only frustrated him further.
"None of you know what happened?"
"Hospitalized," a calm voice said. Tetsuo turned to face Hiro, who cast him a side glance in response before puffing out a curl of smoke.
Tetsuo bristled slightly. "What the hell do you mean?"
Hiro took a final drag from his cigarette before snuffing it out on a nearby ashtray. "The guys that I paid to go after Heiwajima all ended up in the hospital." Noticing the vein bulging on Tetsuo's forehead, Hiro continued with, "Don't bother going after the guy—I saw him rip up a flagpole with his bare hands."
"Bullshit."
"I'm serious. Besides, he said he doesn't know Kei—there's no point in going after him."
A sinister grin spread across Tetsuo's face. "Oh, really?" With a smug expression, he claimed, "He's a weakness of hers—that's what Orihara told me."
Hiro's eyes widened slightly. "Seriously?"
Tetsuo nodded. "Yeah. But, if what you're saying is true, we'll leave him alone for now. We've got more important matters, anyway."
A sick feeling pooled in Hiro's stomach at the mention of "important matters."
Tetsuo took another sip from his beer before gesturing for the men in the room to come closer. As they circled around the pool table, he opened the thin manila folder and tossed it in front of him, exposing several pictures of two familiar faces that made Hiro's steel chamber of a heart quiver just a bit.
"Since we can't follow them on school grounds, I'm gonna need you guys to do some reconnaissance." A low chuckle came from Tetsuo's throat. "Like spying, but with more violence."
Snickers chorused around the room for a moment before Tetsuo held his hand up. He silently plucked one photo from the folder and held it up in front of the group, as if he were auctioning a priceless antique. It was a school photo of a girl with short hair that tapered around the nape of her neck, her bangs falling over her forehead and framing her face.
"See this chick? She's the monster's older sister. The company doesn't want her, but she's around Kei every moment of every day. She's also my ex, and she's a vindictive bitch."
Another round of laughter, except it was significantly quieter this time, as none of the men in the room fully knew to what extent Tetsuo despised Amane Akira. They didn't know whether their boss' crude insult was the side effect of comical hatred or murderous intent—a thought that was certainly petrifying.
After a tense moment, Tetsuo waved dismissively. "Nah, go ahead and laugh. She's a fucking bitch, no reason to hide it."
One of the guys, who had a prominent tattoo of a sword on his right cheek, leered at the picture Tetsuo held between his fingers. "You gotta admit, she's a fine piece of ass, ain't she?"
Tetsuo sighed. "She'd be better if she wasn't such a goddamn whore."
Another guy elbowed his buddies and jerked his chin toward the photo. "Whore or not, I'd still like to hit that."
Shrugging carelessly, Tetsuo leaned back in his seat and kicked his feet up on the corner of the pool table. "Do whatever the hell you want with her, I don't give a shit."
Hiro lit another cigarette as loud cackles echoed around the room's plaster walls. Anger simmered beneath the surface of his cool complexion with each bout of raucous laughter accompanying every degrading comment—however, he remained a silent onlooker. One wrong word, and his head would be cracked like an egg over the bar's countertop.
He hated the thought as it crossed his mind, and then he subsequently hated his mind, which then made him hate himself. This cycle repeated until Tetsuo finally cleared his throat, signaling to the group that their sexist comedy session was over.
"Anyway," he said with a gruff voice, "I'm gonna need you guys to keep an eye on her—on both of them, actually. I need to find out their usual schedules before I can plan anything."
"So, like, you just want us to follow 'em around and shit?"
Tetsuo nodded with a satisfied expression. "Basically. Also, try to find their home address, too. That'll make things a lot easier."
"Alright, boss."
"Hold it," Hiro interrupted, receiving a wrathful glare from Tetsuo in response.
"What is it this time, Tokunaga?"
Hiro slouched over the countertop and ground his second cigarette into the ashtray, its feeble embers glowing a soft orange before crumbling into ash. "That Heiwajima guy is pretty dangerous—you can't just tail them in broad daylight and expect to get away with it."
This will be his good deed, he thinks—his way of becoming the hero. If he could just persuade Tetsuo with blunt logic that his endeavors were too much of a risk and not enough of a guarantee, then he could stop him.
However, Tetsuo was the kind of person who never acted in the way that people expected him to—like a ball that sunk into the ground instead of bouncing, or a wolf that hissed instead of howled.
"You're right," Tetsuo agreed, much to Hiro's surprise. He stood up from his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, the rusted gears in his mind struggling to turn after years of neglect.
"Alright, then—you guys just try to keep your distance from them, far enough so that they don't notice anything."
Hiro sighed. He should've known better than to expect Tetsuo to listen to reason—a guy with a mind as twisted as his was too far gone already. Trying to placate him was like trying to feed a starved tiger from your bare palm, where the creature's satisfaction would only come with the loss of your own hand.
He didn't want to lose a limb today.
The rest of the impromptu meeting was spent delegating responsibilities out to different groups of members. The whole process seemed egotistical to Hiro, as Tetsuo apparently thought highly of their group and believed that it existed on the same level as organizations like the yakuza, despite its essential composition being made up of runaway gang members and college dropouts that all wanted a bite of the profits—and, somehow, Hiro himself had become deeply entrenched within its gory innards, all because of a well-placed threat to his family that had unknowingly raised a failure of a son.
The older version of him, the one that sat at the bar with an air of melancholy, wanted to travel back in time, to reverse every decision he made after everything went to shit.
However, another part of him wanted to believe that his decisions were warranted. Despite his hatred, Hiro knew Tetsuo's character better than anyone. He had recognized his blooming insanity from their days at Raijin themselves, when Akira was just beginning her first year and the light in Hiro's youthful eyes had yet to be extinguished completely.
He should have stopped Tetsuo when he had the chance, but even then, that was easier said than done. Although their ramshackle organization had been haphazardly thrown together and gave off a cavalier air, it was no less dangerous. In fact, it was that careless quality that made it even more violent than most others.
Tetsuo, although completely mad, was not an idiot. He had chosen specific members with care, scrutinizing every detail of their history—the men that he brought in from other gangs had been kicked out for a reason, and it certainly wasn't because of any paltry debt that they may have owed. (Hiro suspected that the only reason Tetsuo allowed subpar morons to join was for the sole purpose of increasing their numbers.)
There were others like Hiro, too—people whose power, either socially, economically, or physically (or, in some cases, all three) caught the attention of Inazuma Tetsuo, and were subsequently blackmailed or bribed into doing his bidding.
Inazuma Tetsuo, he realized, was the most terrifying kind of careless.
He was like a lit match that had been dropped into a dynamite factory, like a raging bull that had speared the matador on its horns and continued to charge around the stadium.
He would do anything to achieve his goals, no matter how deplorable or violent he needed to be. Yes, he certainly was the most terrifying kind of careless—the kind that had absolutely no morals at all.
Hiro then wondered if it was better that he was one of the few who had been blackmailed, as it gave him a scapegoat for working beneath such a monster of a man.
He decided that it didn't matter in the end, and that he was despicable either way.
In an attempt to alleviate this feeling, Hiro took the time to perform his own small act of rebellion, perhaps as a token of repent. What was that saying? Baby steps, or something like that.
This action came through in the form of lighter fluid splashing over the folder of candid photos left out on the table, accompanied by a burning match to set it ablaze. He didn't like the idea of any more unsightly people getting their hands on them—he figured Akira and Kei wouldn't want that, either.
The orange flames snapped and flickered, its hue matching the color of the outside sky as dusk began to set in amongst the crevices of the city.
By the time Ayakashi began filling up with its booze-binging patrons, Hiro had disappeared, the only evidence of his former presence being three crushed cigarettes left in a clear ashtray.
Akira jumped slightly as Kei's morning alarm began to ring, its shrill shrieking causing her to accidentally swipe her liquid eyeliner over her eyelid. Muttering a loud curse and a sigh, she frustratedly wiped away the stray mark and started anew, the early morning dregs of sleep making it difficult for her to keep her eyes open.
One perfected cat-eye look later, the younger of the two sisters trudged into their shared bathroom, sleepily rubbing at her eyes with her fist. Even then, she still held the grace of a dove, a quality that Akira often envied (although never enough to warrant any misplaced bitterness).
The two girls went through their regular morning routine with the usual silence, as Kei was never talkative anyway, and Akira's brain needed time to catch up with her in the mornings. After brushing her teeth and splashing her face with cold water, Kei left the bathroom and began dressing herself in her school uniform, while Akira continued to agonize over her makeup's cooperation (or lack thereof).
Such is the life of a teenage girl.
Eventually, Akira had managed to perfectly balance the amount of blush on her cheeks, and she emerged from the bathroom with a victorious smile.
"Time for breakfast!" she declared happily.
Kei, who was sitting at the kitchen table and eating a mealy apple, spared a glance at her sister. "We don't have any more eggs—you ate them all two days ago when you made 'dinner.'"
Akira's shoulders slumped at that. "Oh, right." Without missing a beat, she sprung up again with just as much energy as before, grabbed her schoolbag, snatched Kei by the collar, and dragged her to the door in one quick motion. "Well, in that case, we might as well leave early."
Kei shrugged and tossed her old apple into a nearby wastebasket, which wasn't much of a sacrifice considering how tasteless it was.
It wasn't until the two girls began walking their regular route to school that an uncomfortable feeling crept up Kei's spine. Wasn't there a name for that? For the feeling of being followed?
Kei absently remembered the term "psychic staring effect" from a psychology book she had been reading.
Akira noticed it, too. Although her cheery smile didn't falter, her steps quickened noticeably, forcing Kei to accelerate her pace as well.
After a few minutes had passed, Kei leaned closer to her sister and whispered, "Akira, someone is following us."
Akira gave a quiet response, but her grin remained intact. "Yeah, I know. I can't tell who it is without turning around, though."
That wasn't the only thing—the sidewalk they were on was occupied by other students, many of whom were also on their way to school. Even if they were to turn around, there was no possible way they could pinpoint the exact person, if any, that was the source of this unwelcome feeling.
It took a few more minutes of stress-induced speed-walking that could basically constitute as running, but the gates of Raijin Academy eventually entered their sights.
Before Akira could hurriedly make a break for the entrance, Kei held her arm out in front of her.
Akira looked surprised. "Huh? What's wrong, Kei-chan?"
Kei didn't answer, her eyes narrowing as she listened intently to the footsteps around them. There was the familiar scuffle of shoes from the few students that were running late, but other than that, the street was mostly empty. It should have been, at least.
Drag, step, drag, step, drag, step...
The sound was unfamiliar to Kei, and she turned her head ever so slightly.
Just a few inches behind them stood a scraggly-looking boy. He didn't seem too old—he might've even been a recent high school dropout—but the tattoo of a sword on his right cheek was the dictionary definition of "conspicuous."
She could see that he clutched a plastic bottle filled with clear liquid in his right hand. The putrid stench of chemicals that floated from its opening filled her with a sickening realization.
The boy finally noticed her piercing gaze, and he stumbled back a few steps. "Oh, fu—"
Before he could fully comprehend the situation, Kei had delivered a sharp jab to his right wrist, a loud crack resounding from the impact. The bottle was dropped from his hand, sloshing the liquid inside and spilling it out on the ground.
Kei quickly apprehended the boy, firmly pressing her palm against the back of his head while her other hand tightly gripped his uninjured wrist. She held him at arm's length as he fell to his knees, the motion making it seem like she had lulled him into a gentle sleep rather than break his wrist. Her face remained passive, although her eyes swam with restrained fury, her overshadowing bangs only adding to her chilling glare.
"Who are you?" she demanded in a cold voice.
The boy sputtered as he desperately attempted to twist away from her, which only made Kei tighten her grip further, earning another pathetic whine from him. "L-Look, lady, I'm real sorry, I won't bother you—"
"I asked you a question." Kei pushed her hand against his head harder, causing him to emit a noise akin to that of an alleycat whose tail had just been stepped on.
"I-I was only following o-orders... just lemme go already!"
"Whose orders?"
Akira's voice rung out amongst the boy's begging as she strode over to the dropped bottle. Picking it up between two fingers, she scrutinized it for a moment before turning her gaze to him.
"You said you were following orders. Who gave them to you?"
"I can't tell ya, or else he'll fuckin' kill me!"
A sullen look shadowed Akira's features. "That sounds about right." Then, without warning, she tossed the half-empty bottle in his chest, thoroughly drenching the front of his shirt with the clear liquid.
"The hell'd you do that for?!" he shouted indignantly, forgetting that he was the one who attempted to attack them in the first place.
"Get out, or else I'll choke you with your own chloroform," Akira snapped, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists.
The boy paled considerably at her threat. He quickly threw them one last colorful insult before pulling out of Kei's grip. Kei let him go without a struggle, watching him stagger on weak legs before ultimately collapsing on the sidewalk in a theatrical show of irony.
"Are you okay?"
Kei faced her sister's concerned gaze and nodded. "I am fine. You weren't hurt either, were you?"
Akira quickly shook her head back and forth. Kei let out a small sigh of relief before pinching the bridge of her nose and clicking her teeth.
"What was that idiot thinking, ambushing students on school property?"
Akira's brow furrowed. "Maybe he wasn't working for Tetsuo after all?"
"How else would he have known where to find us, then?"
An unsettling silence fell between the two girls as the same thought entered their minds. A scowl fell on Akira's face.
"That bastard..."
Before she could let loose a slew of angry curses, she felt a calming pressure on her shoulder. Turning her head slightly, she saw Kei give her a reprimanding look, although her face remained impassive as always.
"Class has already started," she said, calmly picking up her schoolbag from the ground and tucking it under her arm as she walked in the opposite direction. "We will be late."
Akira watched Kei walk away, making no move to follow. She looked back to where the delinquent collapsed, only to find the sidewalk clear of any unconscious bodies. The image of a peaceful and untouched street set an uneasy feeling in her heart, but she ignored it and jogged over to where Kei stood.
In a few minutes, both girls had resumed their morning classes like normal, although not without their respective teachers demanding an explanation for their tardiness.
Kei, always the practical one, respectfully tailored up a suitable lie to cover up her absence—since she was such a quiet and polite student, her teacher let it slide without argument.
Akira, however, did not have the energy to put up with her own teacher's incessant questioning, so she merely plopped down in her empty seat, laid her head down, and took a nap—a situation that was not unusual to witness for the other seniors in her class.
Their day continued.
"You idiot!"
Hiro didn't flinch as another loud crack erupted from the scene behind him, calmly lighting up a cigarette as the sound of shattering glass echoed about the room.
"What the fuck do you think 'don't let them notice you' means?!"
Another crash, this time accompanied by a gargled whimper.
"I-I'm sorry, I t-thought you said we c-c-could do whatever we w-wanted with her—"
Hiro sighed tiredly, wisps of smoke curling from his lips. Really? That's your goddamn excuse?
"Why in the ever-loving fuck would I say that? Why the fuck did you think it would be a good idea to try and attack her when her goddamn sister, the one we're actually trying to go after, is standing right fucking next to her!"
A loud whack accompanied Tetsuo's crazed screeching. A subsequent crunching sound came from the impact, causing the bloody heap on the floor to writhe in pain like a caged animal. Hiro assumed that both of his legs had to be broken by now, and he felt no remorse in that thought.
"Now everything is fucked!"
WHACK!
"You ruined everything, you piece of shit!"
WHACK!
"We can't do anything without getting caught now!"
WHACK, WHACK, WHACK!
Tetsuo's head whipped around after a force pressed down on his arm, stopping the stained crowbar in his hand from continuing its beating against the bloodied pulp on the floor. His eyes raced around in his sockets like a rabid dog when he saw Hiro standing there, one hand in his pocket and the other firmly gripping his wrist.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Tokunaga?!"
The lit cigarette in his mouth bobbed as he spoke. "I think you've done enough." He offhandedly gestured to the body writhing in an abnormally large pool of its own blood. The tattoo on his face was nearly unrecognizable after being torn to shreds by the sharpened brass knuckles wrapped around Tetsuo's hands.
If he's lucky, Hiro thinks to himself, he won't wake up.
Tetsuo snarled, giving the unconscious body one last kick before tossing his weapons in the corner of the room and shoving his hands into his pockets. Hiro waved to the few bodyguards that occupied the room. They nodded in understanding and roughly picked up the body, carting it away to an uncertain location. A trail of blood followed their footsteps.
Tetsuo sunk into one of the chairs in his office, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. His hands trembled with anger as he held the cigarette to his mouth, his breaths uneven and shaky.
"Call Orihara," he ordered after a moment, his eyes absently traveling to the bloodstain on the stone floor. He then debated whether or not he should clean it up—he ended up deciding against it, as he figured it could be used to intimidate the info broker and prevent him from sneaking around.
Hiro ignored the lump in his throat as he nodded in acknowledgement, pulling his cell out of his right pocket and flipping it open. The phone rang three times before the call was received.
"Hey, Orihara, the boss wants you to get over here. The plan has been compromised, so we need to think of something else." A pause. "Uh-huh. Alright."
Two beers and six cigarettes later, the aforementioned high schooler stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets and a polite smile on his face.
"What can I do for you today?"
Tetsuo scowled. "What the hell are you smilin' for?" After no response came, he sighed and continued with, "Some idiot screwed everything up."
Izaya carelessly glanced down at his feet, watching the blood trickle between his shoes. "It looks to me like you've already got that situation under control, hm?"
Tetsuo growled lightly, half from the anger that was still simmering and half from the fact that Izaya didn't seem to care at all that he was standing on top of a crime scene.
"Well, now we can't go through with our original fucking plan."
Izaya shrugged. "So? What do you want me to do about it?"
"What do I want you to do?" Tetsuo stood up and approached Izaya in two big strides, jabbing a finger in his chest intimidatingly (or, more accurately, in an attempt to be intimidating). "I want you to help us fix this, goddamnit!"
Izaya chuckled, holding his hands up in a careless gesture. "Well, with all due respect, that isn't what you paid me for, Tetsuo-san. You specifically requested for me to provide you with information, and that's exactly what I did." He grinned. "You can't blame me for the inadequacy of your own gang."
Tetsuo huffed, and Izaya could visualize the gears in his head struggling to turn as he attempted to decipher the meaning of his words. Eventually, he seemed to get the picture, and he roughly shoved Izaya back a few centimeters. Then, he sauntered over to his rundown desk and opened a random drawer, pulling out another thick envelope.
"Since you said you can only find information," Tetsuo sneered, smacking the tan envelope against Izaya's chest, "then give me information that can help me. Does that sound good enough for you?"
Izaya idly flipped through the fat stack of money he had been given, a smirk twisting his features. "You know, you can only steal so much money before your father starts getting suspicious, Tetsuo-san."
"Shut up." Tetsuo slumped back into his chair, running a hand through the short bush of hair that was beginning to grow back. He flicked his fingers in Hiro's direction. "Oi, Tokunaga, go call the other guys."
"Why?"
"Change of plans. I ain't waiting any longer."
Hiro paused after flipping open his phone, glancing at his superior and dreading his response. "What do you mean?"
The table jumped as Tetsuo slammed his fist against it, leaving a rather large dent behind. "Goddamnit, don't you get it? Now that they've seen us, we can't go back."
Izaya listened with an unamused expression as Tetsuo's voice began rising. It reminded him all too much of another protozoan during his own monstrous fits of rage.
"We're gonna hit 'em every chance we get! I'm not gonna let this opportunity slip away again, not when I have power now!"
Hiro calmly attempted to defuse the ticking time bomb in the room. "What about Heiwajima? You can't go against a guy like him."
Tetsuo shot up from his seat, knocking his chair over in the process. "Who gives a damn?! He's just one guy, no matter how strong he is. I don't care, I'll kill him if I have to!"
Izaya stifled a laugh at that.
"All that matters is getting our hands on the prize, you hear me? I'll get that monster if it's the last thing I fucking do!"
Hiro stood there motionlessly, watching as his employer's mind began to unravel again. Shit, what do I do?
"Well, it seems like you have everything planned out, so I'll take my leave," Izaya chirped, giving Tetsuo a curt wave. He didn't seem to notice, as he was too busy frothing at the mouth.
Tucking the envelope inside his jacket, Izaya couldn't help patting Hiro on the shoulder and adding, "You might want to be more careful, Hiro-san. He looks like he's past the point of reason."
Hiro didn't respond, waiting until Izaya had left before exiting the room and dialing a number on his phone.
"This is Tokunaga. Boss says... boss says to go through with it."
Kei, in basic terms, was having a terrible week.
The incident that Akira had lovingly dubbed "Tattoo-Face Stalker Episode" seemed to be a catalyst for all of the bad things to come.
First, there was the time when she and Akira were walking home together, and it wasn't long before a group of thugs began tailing them, armed with a copious amount of makeshift weapons. Fortunately, Kei had managed to wave over a nearby traffic cop, and he wasted no time in driving the gang of delinquents away.
She thought that would be the end of it.
Unfortunately, no matter what she did, they were always there, like a patch of mold festering in the corner of the room.
There were the few times where they had decided to get physical, but that usually ended with them getting their asses kicked—however, as weak as they were, their determination was irritatingly durable.
Kei was beginning to feel uneasy; the last time this had happened, they were never this persistent. Something was different, something had changed. The fact that she didn't know what it was further emphasized her suspicions.
Kei had begun to avoid the rooftop as well.
No, not just the rooftop—she was avoiding Shizuo completely.
I don't want him to get involved, was what she told herself. Any time she gazed at the arching staircase, any time she passed one of the school's vending machines, any time she strolled by the athletic field and heard the groan of metal as Shizuo ripped up the recently-replaced goal posts, she had to remind herself.
Keep your distance.
He shouldn't know.
Don't get other people involved.
It was the perfect lie—just selfless enough to make her feel like she was doing the right thing, while still concealing her deepest fears from plaguing her regular thoughts.
So she walked past the arching staircase, walked past the vending machine, and walked past the athletic field (although not without placing a roll of bandages next to his abandoned schoolbag).
And yet, although she claimed it was better this way, she couldn't help but notice the empty feeling it left behind. If she were any better at deciphering her own emotions, she would've called this cold hollowness "longing."
What a selfish creature she was.
Kei idly sipped from the bowl of soup in front of her, poking the noodles around with her chopsticks. Ever since she stopped frequenting the rooftop, she decided she might as well take advantage of the situation and buy herself lunch, but she realized too late that the beef broth was salty and had way more chunks of cooked radish than she could stomach.
Just as she was about to give up on her lunch and throw it away, a tall shadow loomed over her empty table.
"Hey."
All of the time she had put in to avoid the very subject of her thoughts ended up being for naught, as the one specific voice that she most definitely did not want to hear called out to her.
Kei glanced up briefly, accidentally making eye-contact with Shizuo when she did, a motion that she immediately regretted. Now, she had no choice but to respond.
"Hello," she greeted curtly, as if she hadn't been purposefully avoiding him for days. Then, without a word, she stood up from her seat, returned her tray, and abruptly made her way over to the exit.
"Oi, wait up," Shizuo said, catching up to her in only a few strides. The students sitting at the tables he passed fearfully scooted away from him, but he ignored them. Before Kei could run away again, he reached out and grasped her forearm, his overwhelming strength successfully rooting her in place.
"Why do you keep avoiding me?"
Kei felt a tiny twinge of frustration. She just wanted to be alone, couldn't he see that?
"I am not avoiding you," was her weak response (which meant that she was most definitely avoiding him).
Shizuo narrowed his eyes, easily calling her bluff just by looking at her. Kei wondered how he could be completely oblivious one moment and then incredibly perceptive the next.
"Is there someone bothering you or something? If there is, I'll—"
Yes. "No," she interrupted before he could work himself into a fit. "It's none of your business, anyway."
Kei immediately regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She hadn't meant to snap at him, and now she'd only made him more suspicious.
However, to her surprise, he didn't seem to take offense at her remark. His expression was impassive as he studied her face, something that Kei found to be more unsettling than if he had exploded with anger instead.
Eventually, he sighed and released her, tucking his hands in his pockets. "You're right, it isn't my business."
Kei folded her arms over her chest uncomfortably and looked away. "No, I was being rude."
Shizuo didn't respond, and an awkward silence fell between them. Kei wished that her atoms would just dissolve into thin air—anything to help her escape from this situation.
After another moment had passed in silence, Shizuo finally spoke up again.
"You like sweets, right?"
Kei, unsure of where the conversation was headed, nodded hesitantly.
"There's a café in town. We could go there after school, if you want."
"Why?"
Shizuo's gaze was unreadable as he responded with, "You seem like you could use a break."
Kei's eyes widened slightly, but a small smile appeared on her face all the while.
"Okay."
Shizuo wasn't entirely sure what to make of his situation.
Currently, he was seated at a booth covered in brown leather, a plate of chocolate cheesecake in front of him and a bottle of milk next to it. Sitting across from him was Kei, although he could barely see her head from behind the world's largest parfait in existence. He knew she had a sweet tooth, but he hadn't expected it to be on a scale this large. The waitress certainly hadn't expected it either, as she had struggled to keep up with Kei after she began listing every possible topping that they had on the menu. (Shizuo ended up having to stop her before she overshot her budget on chocolate-covered strawberries.)
"Are you sure you can eat all that?" he asked incredulously.
Kei's gaze was as serious as that of a soldier preparing for battle.
"Of course. I wouldn't have bought it, otherwise."
Shizuo glanced skeptically at the mountainous parfait one last time before shrugging and taking a swig of milk. Kei scooped a spoonful from the parfait, and Shizuo couldn't hide his amused expression as he watched her eyes practically sparkle when she tasted it. It was pretty entertaining to see someone as stoic as her become so emotional over excessive amounts of whipped cream.
As he took a bite of cheesecake, he wondered why someone like her was even friends with him in the first place. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her company, but it was like... she just seemed so normal compared to him that he couldn't fathom why she would want to stick around.
He faintly thought back to his memories of elementary school. Most of them were foggy, and a majority of them he tried to block out since they involved him getting angry and destroying school property (something that, even now, he didn't like remembering).
He never really talked to her back then, and he couldn't even recall her name until Shinra had mentioned it out loud.
She wasn't really like the other kids in his class, though—that much he knew. Although she didn't go out of her way to befriend him like Shinra had, whenever she witnessed his bouts of violence, she wasn't part of the crowd that screamed and ran away. However, he hadn't really known of her existence back then, so his thoughts never dwelled on that for more than a second.
Even when she visited him in the hospital a couple times to give him his homework, he still treated her like he used to, despite the fact that she was one of the few people who were ever nice to him.
She probably deserved better.
Shizuo shook away his thoughts and took another bite of cheesecake. He was thinking too much about stupid things. Absently lifting his gaze, he noticed that half of her enormous parfait was gone in the span of only a few minutes. Despite this, she was still eating without any sign of stopping. He then wondered if it was possible that she had a bottomless pit for a stomach.
Just as he was about to comment on her incredibly unhealthy eating habits (which he failed to realize was hypocritical, as he shared those exact same eating habits), a foul stench permeated the air, one that was distinctly recognizable.
Kei, noticing Shizuo's nose wrinkle in disgust, paused in her devouring of the sugary dessert.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
Her voice seemed to snap Shizuo out of his trance, and he shook his head. "No, I'm fine."
Kei nodded silently in acknowledgement, but his sudden reaction set a feeling of unease in her chest as well. The day had been strangely calm, even when she and Shizuo walked into town together.
Surprisingly, nobody attempted to follow her.
Normally, Kei would have chalked that up to the fact that nobody really wanted to get near Shizuo at all, but even then, there were always those few ignorant morons that would try to pick a fight with him.
No such thing happened, either.
For a fearful moment, Kei suspected that Akira might be the one in danger—until she remembered that Akira had texted her earlier, assuring her 'not to worry her adorable face off' and that she would be walking home with a friend (someone named Sharaku, or something along those lines).
So what was it? What made the oasis of gang violence that was Ikebukuro suddenly dry up?
Not wanting to think about it, Kei just assumed that perhaps Tetsuo had decided to lay off his pursuits after realizing they were going nowhere.
It was a good enough excuse for her to resume eating her delicious parfait without worry.
Some time later, the two teenagers stood on the street corner, watching the silver-backed cars drive by. After Kei had finished her parfait, which didn't take long at all, Shizuo was itching for a smoke, as he had gone without one for so long in consideration of Kei's health. Plus, the overbearing stench in the air was irritating him, and he figured the smell of nicotine would (ironically) clear the air.
Kei stood beside him silently, watching the sky fade to pale orange as the sun began to set. She felt satisfied. For a moment, there were no worries in her mind, as if she had finally reached the peaceful serenity she had been seeking for so long.
In only a second, that peaceful feeling was gone.
"Yo, Kei-chan!"
Kei's shoulders tensed as an arm wrapped around her and firmly turned her around to face its owner.
The cigarette was instantly pinched between Shizuo's fingers. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Izaya clicked his teeth, pulling Kei closer to him as Shizuo ground the abused cigarette beneath his foot. "Now, now, Shizu-chan, you may want to curb that nasty temper of yours. You wouldn't want to hurt Kei-chan, would you?" Side-eyeing Kei's cold glare, he added, "Although, that's not really possible, anyway."
Shizuo paused for a second, his hand halting in place as he reached for the closest street sign. "What're you talking about?"
Izaya's grin faded momentarily. He really was an idiot.
"Ah, never mind. I should have known better than to expect an animal to understand words."
Shizuo's restraint gave way almost immediately, and he wasted no time in yanking the stop sign out of the ground. "I don't need words to kick your ass!"
Grinning smugly, Izaya suddenly shoved Kei away and pulled out his switchblade, its surface shining as he brandished it in front of him. As he waved the knife back and forth, Kei could see the light shadows mirrored on it.
This is a trap...!
The sickening realization settled in Kei's stomach just as Izaya said, "Well, Shizu-chan, I believe there are more asses to kick than just mine."
Shizuo growled, raising the sign above his head. It was at this moment, when he had straightened up completely, that he finally took notice of the men filling the street, discreetly hidden amongst the usual crowd that felt the need to watch the show.
With a menacing snarl, Shizuo swung the stop sign down with alarming speed. Izaya darted away before it could hit him, and the ground ended up suffering for it, as a small crater formed where Shizuo had struck. Unfortunately, before he could heave it up again, the gang surrounding him started closing in.
Shizuo swiveled around, his eyes searching through the crowd for that irritating pest. In his haste, he almost missed the guy leaping forward with a butterfly knife clutched in his fist.
Almost.
Before the guy's feet could even reach the ground, Shizuo had swung the sign up from beneath him, striking him directly in the gut and sending him flying into a pop idol's billboard.
Where's that bastard?!
His head darted around as he resumed the search for his main target, catching a flash of black and red in his peripheral vision. However, before he could even turn around, another group of guys raced toward him, each of them wildly waving their weapons around as if they were rashers of bacon. Against someone like Shizuo, they were probably just as useless.
"Fuckin' die already, you punk!" one yelled, angling his wooden katana at the back of Shizuo's head. Without even turning around, Shizuo roughly grabbed it, splintering the wood with one squeeze before tossing the guy into a few other attackers.
"You want me to die, huh?!" Shizuo growled menacingly, causing a few of his oncoming attackers to freeze in their places. "If you tell someone to die, then that means you gotta be prepared to die, and since you already want me to die, then I'll say this: die!"
Whatever mercy he may have had left burned up instantly, engulfed within the roaring flames of his rage. First, the fleabag-bastard had to go bother him during a goddamn peaceful outing, and now, he was pitting all these random thugs against him when he hadn't done anything at all!
Gotta kill him, gotta kill that flea!
Unfortunately, every time Shizuo managed to forcefully beat down a clear path, the throng of delinquents would only assimilate into another block. Shizuo's raw frustration was beginning to tear at the seams, causing his rage to grow and grow and grow until all he could see was boiling red.
Another rushed at him with a knife, delivering a sharp cut to his chest. As blood began to seep from the wound, the punk laughed hysterically in disbelief.
"Ahaha, I got him! I actually got—"
Before he could brag any more, Shizuo drove his fist into his face, practically drilling him into the asphalt with the force.
In just a matter of seconds, an animalistic instinct took over him in the form of a deadly mantra of, "Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!"
All of his senses had been abandoned, thrown against the pavement along with the bastards that made the mistake of jumping him. By that time, the thought of attacking Izaya had been shoved to the back of his mind, as all he could focus on was beating down every attacker that ran forward.
With one last swing of the stop sign, Shizuo managed to sweep out an entire row of delinquents, scattering them amongst the unearthed chunks of asphalt. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, blood dripping from the open wound on his chest. He didn't miss a beat as his head darted around, frantically searching for the source of all his hatred.
In a matter of moments, he found the devil-incarnate standing in the center of the carnage and grinning deviously.
"Shizu-chan, you really are a monster. The fact that you managed to do all this," he said with a smirk, waving at the numerous bodies on the street, "is very disturbing. You know, I seriously wonder how someone like Kei-chan can even stand you."
"JUST DIE ALREADY!" Shizuo roared as he surged forward, sparks snapping from the stop sign he dragged behind him.
Izaya chuckled darkly as he held his arm up, pointing his switchblade upward. "It's just like how that saying goes—you know, how 'birds of a feather flock together.'" With a flick of his wrist, he sliced a deep, red line into Shizuo's upper arm. "Well, in this case, 'monsters of a feather.'"
Shizuo grit his teeth as blood spurted from the wound, chucking the destroyed stop sign at Izaya before darting forward again.
Izaya ducked out of the way of the flying projectile and tossed a blade back at Shizuo, watching with disgust as it sank into his shoulder only a few millimeters. With every interaction, he was always exposed to something new that further proved how inhuman Shizuo really was.
As the small knife clattered to the ground, Shizuo wasted no time in wrenching a nearby vending machine up from the ground, the screws popping as the metal groaned beneath his force. "Shut up!"
Of course, Izaya never was the type to give in to other people's demands, especially when they came from a hulking monster. "Ne, Shizu-chan, is your brain so dense that you never wondered why Kei survived that fall?"
Shizuo's eyes narrowed suspiciously, his arms wavering as he heaved the vending machine over his head.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Izaya grinned sinisterly. He had him right where he wanted him. "Tell me, Shizu-chan—where is she right now?"
As if on cue, a familiar voice cut into the chaos.
"Shizuo!"
Shizuo turned his head just in time to feel Kei roughly shove him back, watching with a sickening lurch as the knife aimed for his chest sunk into her right eye.
Kei stood by helplessly as Shizuo chased after Izaya, her heart sinking as the group of gang members began closing in on him.
Was this what a waking nightmare felt like?
Feeling a sudden presence behind her, Kei reflexively swung her leg out, catching two men in the jaw with the back of her heel. Before they could pick themselves up, she ran as fast as she could, following the trail of destruction that Shizuo left behind.
I have to stop him!
How could she have been so foolish? For her to think that just because no one was attacking them meant that she could let her guard down—how stupid could she be?
If he gets hurt, it's all my fault.
If anyone dies, it's all my fault.
It's all my fault.
It's all my fault!
As she ran, Kei took the opportunity to take down as many attackers as she could. She couldn't let herself get injured, or else everything she had been attempting to do would crumble in an instant, like a castle that had been turned into sand. No, her castle had always been made of sand, sloppy and only lasting as long as the wind allowed it to.
This day, she realized, was the cold, harsh wind.
A calloused hand reached forward and gripped her shoulder. Without hesitation, Kei jammed her elbow into her assailant's stomach and moved on.
Another rushed toward her with a homemade ball-and-chain flail wrapped with metal twine. Just as he swung the metal ball over his head, Kei kicked against his collarbone hard enough to crack it.
Her legs were beginning to burn as she ran, but she didn't stop—she couldn't stop.
Unfortunately, the delinquents didn't stop, either.
As she ruthlessly kicked and punched her way through them, the naïveté of her actions filled her mouth with a bitter taste.
How could she have possibly believed that she could take care of it herself? She couldn't do anything—she couldn't even protect her own sister.
Useless, useless!
What was the point in having this power if she couldn't even do one right thing?
You're a waste! A waste!
Suddenly, Kei halted in place, her shoes skidding against the asphalt. A short distance away stood Shizuo, who had wrenched a vending machine up from the ground and was preparing to hurl it at Izaya.
In an instant, Izaya's eyes met hers, and he smiled upon recognizing her look of defeat.
Just as Kei was about to run between them in an attempt to stop them, she noticed one of the injured men staggering to his feet. As he swayed precariously on weak legs, Kei caught the gleam of a throwing knife in his hand. She looked on with dread as he reared his hand back, twisting the blade between his fingers.
In that moment, Kei's legs moved on their own.
"Shizuo!"
With one harsh movement, she knocked him back with her shoulder. Before she could even turn around and react accordingly, the knife sunk into her eye, ripping a pained cry from her throat. Falling to her knees, Kei leaned against one hand while the other clutched her right eye, blood pouring out between her fingers in rivulets.
"Kei—!" Shizuo immediately dropped the vending machine behind him and knelt down beside her. His hands floated above her shoulders, unsure of what to do. For once, his inhuman strength couldn't help him.
A ways away stood Izaya, whose eyes had widened slightly. He hadn't expected for that to happen, and he certainly hadn't planned for it, either. This was a situation that had gone beyond his control, something that very rarely occurred. He disliked the feeling, as it placed a sour damper on his mood for a reason that he could not place. However, he wasted no time in recovering.
"How ironic. Are you hoping that if you try to help her, it will make you seem like less of a beast?"
Shizuo spared a monstrous glare at his nemesis rather than responding in the usual violent way. Izaya couldn't help the irksome disappointment he felt at Shizuo's lack of reaction. Why was it that now he was suddenly concerned for her safety, when before he didn't give a second thought to leaving her in the dust?
Kei lifted her head slightly, her other eye narrowing in a feeble attempt at a glare. Through the red haze, she could just barely make out the outline of a smirk on Izaya's face.
"I... zaya..."
Izaya watched her expression carefully. Her eye—the one that was intact, that is—began to cloud over, shining with pure anguish. Ah, what a sight it would be to see her cry!
"Well, Kei-chan, at least you don't have to lie to him anymore, right? You can finally show your true colors!" Izaya said, chuckling cruelly at his own joke.
At his words, Shizuo fixed her with a puzzled look and hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder.
Kei immediately flinched away from his touch and shoved him back, her hand smearing a bloody print on the front of his shirt. "No, don't touch me—!"
Shizuo recoiled instantly, hurt and concern clearly defined on his features. "Kei...?"
"Don't look at me, please..." she replied, staggering to her feet.
During all the chaos, a large crowd had gathered around them, much to Kei's dismay. There was nowhere for her to run, nowhere for her to hide. No matter where she looked, there were people staring at her, gaping at her, shining their phones at her.
She couldn't pretend to be normal anymore.
With a trembling hand, Kei wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the knife.
Shizuo quickly took ahold of her wrist, stopping her motion. "What the hell are you doing? You need to go to a hospital—"
In the split second before he could react, Kei grit her teeth, brought her other hand up, and forcefully yanked the knife out, splashing her blood against the street in the process.
And then, it happened.
Shizuo's eyes widened in shock as the laceration on her eye began molding itself back together like clay, his grip on her wrist loosening. What the hell...?
A chorus of horrified gasps erupted from the crowd around them, punctuated by the clicks and flashes of cameras.
"I-It's a monster!"
"How is that possible, no freaking way!"
"What the hell? That's disgusting!"
After a moment, Kei gingerly pressed her fingertips against her eyelid. Finding it to be completely intact, she fearfully glanced at her surroundings. Her eyes flitted from Izaya's sinister smirk to Shizuo's wide eyes and to the terrified crowd, and she did the only thing she was good at.
She ran.
Oh boy, that was a lot of action! Personally, I think this chapter is when the plot really starts, but that's probably just me.
Sorry about the total overload of words!
Please review, and thank you for reading! (＾▽＾)
(P.S. I hope you guys liked the little reference I put in there in regards to Akira's "friend.")