"The essence of evil and good deeds are the same. They're both no more than a person's action to make up for a defect in themselves."
It was one of his epiphanies of life. At first, Yashiro never really understood why people created a division between the two when the good and evil weighed the same.
Tap. Tap.
"To get close to someone recently, I've taken all kinds of measures. Sometimes I was straightforward, sometimes I throw a curveball. I've even tried what can be called 'illegal moves'."
His mind takes him back to the times he's privately called Saturo to the staff room and had a chat - he'd been so oblivious then. The times he'd tap furiously onto the wheel as he watched Saturo foil his evening plans in front of him - the nerve. And then finally, to his intricate, beautifully structured plan at the ice rink.
"Boy, it's been fun."
And then a feeble, innocent voice. "Um… you're talking about a girlfriend?"
He laughs. "Certainly, there are similarities to a romantic situation. Hm. I guess 'filling the hole in your heart' is the commonality."
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Maybe he's seen his face change, or maybe he's genuinely concerned but Saturo pikes up from beside him. "Want a candy?"
His small hands reach for the compartment box, expecting to see the plethora of sweets from before but was faced with two open boxes of pills. There's something that takes a hold of Yashiro's heart - pumping against his chest rapidly when the boy sees it. Anticipation, fear, joy? Hardly.
It is thrill.
A kind of thrill he never felt previously, a kind of thrill that left him craving for more.
And it was all because of Saturo.
"Thanks, Saturo." Tap. Tap. Tap. "But you won't find any candy there." Tap. "After all, this isn't my car."
The boys' body turns rigid and only his head moves slowly to face him. Yashiro can't help but let a crooked smile creep onto his face as he looks down at him. It was relieving, the feeling of the facade he put up for years finally melting off.
Only the dim lights of the tunnel illuminated the boys confused yet wary face. "What do you mean it isn't your car?"
"Your happiest moment…." he says. "Don't you find that it keeps getting updated again and again? My latest 'happiest moment' happened today. Filling up the missing something in your heart is the finest moment. Finding something and then obtaining it… The more difficulties there are, the greater the happiness when you overcome them."
And this, this was his happiness.
He can tell Saturo still looked bemused. With a monotone expression settling on his face, he leans a little further into his seat. "Saturo, you lied to me about one thing. You said you're pretending there's a kidnapper, but you've actually confirmed there is one, and now you're acting on it."
Recalling all the times Saturo's interferance hindered his intents, his finger automatically begins to tap onto the steering wheel. He didn't want to believe at first, that his hindrance - no, his enemy - was nothing more than a weak child.
"I resisted that idea. I couldn't believe it. Rather, I didn't want to believe it," he utters truthfully as they make their way out of the tunnel, the interiors of the car dimming to a pale blue light. "That someone was anticipating my thinking."
It took only a glance to see the little boy breaking under the weight he dropped on him. Yashiro takes a sharp turn at the intersection, breaking off from the white truck they were set to entail. It was a feeble gasp that sounded from the little boy as he looks back in concern.
"Don't worry," Yashiro reassures. "Misato isn't in that car. The only person in that vehicle is the driver, Jun Shiratori's father."
It feels like bricks being removed off his chest as he recounts what he had pulled off to Saturo. It is as if he could breathe better, more easily. Or rather it feels more like a fox wriggling out of a sheep's skin. Saturo only bent forward - in the same position for a while, unmoving as he went on.
The car finally halts in front of the icy lake, and almost as if it was intended the first flakes of snow begin to fall. Yashiro rolls down both the windows as he looks outside, expressionless at the one thing he had not predicted. "It's snowing, huh?"
With a sniff, he can feel the coldness of the frozen air and his nose almost ices over. It was freezing undoubtedly. He ponders for a minute about how it must feel as the icy waters pours in, surrounding his body until it finally reaches into his lungs - the coldness suffocating him. Saturo would feel the same in a while.
There's a series of frantic pulls and grunts from beside him. Unmoving, Yashiro breathes an icy breath. "That won't come undone."
"Game over. For you, and me," he continues, deadpanning. After this, it'll all be gone. The hinderance, the thrill. And even after all of it, he still doesn't know how he did it. How an eleven year old managed to foil what he lived for. Yashiro unclicks his seatbelt and lets it slide to its original position, almost mockingly at the young boy.
"Saturo, I still can't believe it," he says, sitting slumped on his seat. "You thoroughly anticipated my plans and crushed them. To be honest, I'm stunned you cornered me like this."
There's a brief pause before his lanky frame leans in, his face only inches away from Saturos and the latter stops his vainful struggle. And he can almost smell the fear off his young skin, fueling him. With a crooked smile and a vile glint in his eyes, Yashiro breathes, "It's like you've seen the future."
Grabbing the gym bag from behind him, he begins to unzip the next stage to this scheme of his. "I don't want any hard feelings, so I'm going to say this. You've interfered with my plans, but what I'm about to do is not for revenge. I truly do respect you." It wasn't a lie. It was a little boy, not anyone else, who had come this close to him in begins to get out of the death trap. "I want you to think of this as my sublimation for not being able to satisfy my desires."
"I thought you said it was game over for you too!" Saturo yells fiercely, his eyes lighting a fire beyond his age. It's those eyes of his that got adrenaline pumping through Yashiro's veins, and that got him so excited and captivated. Eyes filled with rage, desire, hate, determination towards him coming from such a tiny figure.
"Saturo," he begins. "You've won peace for this town. Isn't that what you wanted? And what I have to get is your death at my hands and at my sake."
It's as if the fire only roars. "Yashiro! I won't die, until I see you destroyed!"
It's the first time he'd heard Saturo call him by his name without the addition of sensei. Yashiro's lips curl downward, a plain expression on his face. "That's what they call aiming too high." With that, he wedges his final piece of the plan. The car starts to roll, his new victim struggling in futility and he watches.
"Yashiro! Bastard!" The boy screams interrupted by his own grunts. "You go to hell!"
Finally, a splash sounds as the car crashes into the water - slowly sinking along with him. Yashiro lets a faint smile appear on his face. "I'm going to leave this town," he breathes, and turns to walk away from the chaos he caused.
"Yashiro!" The water hadn't gotten into his lungs yet.
I know your future.
It still echoes in his mind from time to time. Yashiro now sits in his busy staffroom, his eyes burning through the newspaper set on his desk. It is between the pages - a small column about a boy found in a lake who slipped under a coma. His finger taps repeatedly at the section, turning rapid by the second with both irritation and awe. There was only one thing that distinguishes Saturo from his other victims. Saturo isn't dead.
I know your future.
He remembers freezing in his spot for a while, stealing a glance from the sinking car. He had waited for a while to see if he was going to say anything else. But that was it. He could dismiss it. Yet why would someone choose that to be their dying and final words? From that day in February, he had noticed a newfound sense of maturity in Saturo that only continued to shine. Surely if he said it, then he must mean something.
It was...noisy. It was all enjoyable at first - the fake first trust and impression, the sly creeping around and the cunning invite to death. It was his first victim after the lake - a little girl of about twelve. More than alone, the girl admitted she felt lonely and it only made her put her blind faith in him.
Taking her to the small, remote shed, pushing her hard to the floor. Yashiro was expressionless. The girl cried out, begged, pleaded but it only fell onto deaf ears. Yashiro crouched down, a gloved hand kept reassuringly on her head.
"It's going to be okay," he muttered, yanking her head back to look deep into her eyes. There was sadness, rage, hate, fear, and only a small unkindled fire. Nothing. He didn't feel anything like he did with Saturo. Even when the light slipped away from her eyes as he held her under him, his hands curled around her throat. He didn't feel anything.
Nothing.
That was weeks ago. Now sitting on the plastic chair, the little boy laying almost lifeless in front of him, Yashiro begins to tap his fingers on his thighs. His eyes trace the tubes from his hand reaching the IV and the tubes trailing to his life support. The last words still echo. It seemed so silly. Everything seemed so silly. He wonders if Saturo had actually gone and -
It's not possible.
Rising from his seat, he stands close to the bed and gazes at Saturo's still sleeping, peaceful face. It has barely been a week after what he did. If only the boy hadn't been breathing.
Yashiro's eyes dart for about the hundredth time around the hospital room, and a sigh escapes him. It was all too simple to kill him now. His eyes first dart to the pillow - all I need to suffocate, then to the IV above him - just slip in a drug and plant someone's fingerprints, and then to Saturo again. Letting a finger slide across the boy's neck, he taps twice against his skin. It's all too simple,
So why can't I do it?
Was it the last words of Saturo that echoed in his mind that made him want to keep him alive? Or was it the thrill Saturo had given him that he seemed to have lost?
It was both.
Retracting his finger, Yashiro relapses back into his seat and runs his fingers through his unkempt hair. He wouldn't kill him, not yet. He wants to feel the fire again, he wants to see that rage in the little boys eyes, and he would wait however long it takes to witness it again. The game wasn't over for either of them, rather it had taken an interesting turn. The corner of his lips turn into a sly smile. No he would wait. He would wait no matter how long it took for him to flutter his eyes open.
He would wait for his little Spice.
Sitting in the room had begun to get old for him, and in the years that passed by he found himself getting agitated, looking at his Spice stuck. Yet it had not been completely fruitless. He shaved for him, cut his growing hair for him, and never failed to visit. And all the while, Yashiro had done a great deal of things while he slept. From a sixth grade teacher, he rose to a recognizable and commendable name while hiding his crimson stained history.
It's a quiet evening, with the setting sun filtering in through the curtains. Yashiro sits, his hair gelled back and pushes his glasses higher. Saturo, without a doubt has an older look on his peaceful face and has grown. It's hard to tell that it was him, this little boy now almost unrecognizable, who untangled this web of mystery and saw through him. Sometimes it almos-
It starts with a little movement of his finger. Yashiro's head jerks upward and gazes at the boy's hand. Was he perhaps imagining it? Did these fifteen years of obsession get to him?
Another conspicuous movement of his finger occurs, and Yashiro can't help but let a sinister smile creep on his face.
His happiest moment is updated.