Disclaimer: Flame of Recca (and its characters) belongs to Anzai Nobuyuki-sensei.
I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.
To those who reviewed, added this story to their alert and favorite lists, thank you so much.
Warning: OOC possible. Gomen for this.
Stalker
Chapter 12: Dangerous Mind
He stared at the figure in front of him; its hair disheveled, face looking tired and worn and covered with sweat, breath coming out in uneven puffs. There was a triumphant look in its eyes and he smiled. The figure in front of him smiled back as well.
"You've done an excellent job," he whispered at his reflection. "You did one hell of an excellent job." He reached out to touch the face of the image in front of him but his fingers met the cold surface of the mirror and he frowned a little.
"You did it," he murmured in a low tone. "You were able to get revenge on that Kamatari Natsuo for what he did earlier. You were able to… punish that faggot for his crime…" He laughed softly; amused with the way his reflection copied his every move perfectly.
"If no one's gonna pat your back for a job well done, then do it yourself." He told his reflection. "Good job boy… good job." He was in such an ecstatic mood, he wanted to celebrate. He grinned and his eyes rested on the photograph tucked at the edge of the mirror. He reached for it and caressed the face of the girl in it.
"I've done it for you love. You see, even if he is your friend… he was trying to get in our way. And I can't allow that." He brought it to his lips for a kiss.
Anyone who stands in our way will meet the same fate… or worse, Fuuko-chan. He thought as he continued to stare lovingly at the photo.
Anyone…
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Quarter to nine in the evening.
Despite the hour, the street (and sidewalk) is still with students walking to and fro—in groups, in solitude or sometimes in pair—talking in loud, irritating voices or hush-hush tones.
It was a typical Thursday night.
The evening breeze blew in from the northern part of the area. It played with the strands of an unbound silver hair as its owner shifted his pale blue eyes to gaze at the girl sitting on the cold balcony floor.
"Yurikago… Hoshi?" Mikagami Tokiya muttered, frowning as he took in the name, wondering where the hell he had heard it. "I don't think I know him." He finally gave up trying to remember. No use to wearing out his neurons.
"Yes, Yurikago Hoshi," Fuuko repeated the name in a firm tone. "And I'm not surprised that you don't know him. Have you forgotten how anti-social you are?" In the dim, overhead light of the balcony, he noted her eyes have this mischievous sparkle in them.
"I don't think my hostile behavior has something to do with it," he defended. "I just don't really know him."
"He was the guy that passed by you in the library," Fuuko reminded her boyfriend.
The former Ensui master had a vague memory of the guy Fuuko was telling him. That Hoshi was smaller than him, with light brown hair… if he wasn't mistaken.
"Remember now, Mr. I-have-a-photographic-memory?" Fuuko queried and he nodded. "Yurikago Hoshi," she said the name again. "Sophomore, light brown-haired with deep green eyes…"
So I was right about the hair color. Tokiya thought as he leaned against the frame of the open sliding door. "So this guy… you think he's the one?" Fuuko told him all about this afternoon. The rose and letter (which Natsuo tore up) in her locker and her suspicions about Yurikago Hoshi.
Fuuko inhaled sharply before nodding. "Yeah…"
"Why?"
"Physically speaking, Hoshi's three inches smaller than you… with the same built," she lifted her head a little to look straight into Tokiya's eyes, which had narrowed slightly after hearing what she said. They are, after all, in a lookout for a guy with those descriptions.
"What's weirder is that he has a bruise on his jaw," Fuuko continued. She brought up her hand to touch her own. "I remember hitting my stalker on that part Mi-chan… on the same part where Hoshi's sporting his bruise now."
Tokiya left his position to crouch down in front of Fuuko. "Did you ask him about it?"
"I did of course," Fuuko replied. "He said he got beaten up by some guys he didn't know a few nights ago. Damn it!" She banged her fist against the railings of the terrace. "If this is just coincidence, then it's one heck of a coincidence. Every single clue that we have on my stalker is pointing at him! The descriptions fit him perfectly."
"Fuuko," Tokiya said in a firm tone, reaching for her hand. "You do know that even if all the clues we have points to this Hoshi… we're still not sure if he is really your stalker," he explained as he lightly rubbed Fuuko's abused hand.
"Hoshi is also a member of the photography club!" Fuuko stated in an equally firm tone.
That got Tokiya's attention. He'll be damned. But he's not the type to jump into conclusions without sufficient evidences.
"Every info we have regarding my stalker's identity points to him. It could only mean—" Fuuko murmured dejectedly.
"We still have to check him out," Tokiya interrupted her.
The feisty wind child's head snapped up and she stared at her boyfriend's face. "Mi-chan," she pronounced the name through clenched teeth. "He can be my stalker!" Fuuko exploded. "That fucking bruise on his face—"
"That fucking bruise is not enough to prove anything," Tokiya cut her off again, leaving Fuuko half-spewing out obscenities at him. He sat in front of her. "Have you heard about a gang that was attacking students from Tokyo University?"
Fuuko was taken aback by his question. She gazed at him in wonder before answering, "I've never heard of it…"
"Well, there are rumors circulating at Todai. I'm surprised you didn't know of it." Tokiya said. "Apparently, some students actually had the misfortune to meet them and they all got beaten up. Some were hospitalized and some managed to get away with just scratches and bruises."
"What are you saying, Mi-chan?" Fuuko asked with a raised eyebrow.
"What I'm saying is that the bruise on Hoshi's face… maybe he got it because he encountered this gang. You said he was beaten up by 'some guys' a few nights ago."
The ex-wind wielder bit her lip. Tokiya's got a point there.
"There could be 2 or more reasons on how he ended up with that bruise Fuuko," Tokiya murmured. "For now let's not jump into conclusions." He hated the dispirited look she had on her face right now. It's not like he doesn't believe her, but he doesn't want to look at the situation with a one-track mind. He tapped Fuuko's chin lightly so she would look at him. "But that doesn't mean he's out of the people-to-be-check list. He's priority."
Fuuko half-smiled him. He was right. She should not to jump into conclusions. Her emotions were obviously ruling her. For now they have to observe Hoshi first. Trust Mikagami Tokiya to be reasonable at a time like this. He always looks at things in every angle. One thing she really admires in him is his ability to patiently wait and observe before striking.
Though his calmness reminds her of the calm before the storm—a raging storm at that. She doesn't know if it's just her imagination but there is this cold look in his eyes. And it made her shudder… a bit.
"This is insane," she confessed. "Hoshi as my stalker…" She shook her head unable to continue. "I've known him as a shy and sweet guy. He doesn't look like someone capable of doing weird shits." Fuuko's shoulder slumped down wearily.
"People are not what they always seem to be," Tokiya told her. "And I doubt if you know Hoshi really well."
"You're right," Fuuko bit her lower lip. "Earlier at the library, when he was following us… I actually thought he was my stalker. They have the same… presence. Or am I talking bullshit?" She gazed at Tokiya who didn't answer her question. "If it's really him… then why? Why is he doing this?"
"Honestly?" Tokiya said as he lightly kissed Fuuko's shoulder. "I don't know the answer." His eyes moved towards the lamp-lighted street. A nerdy-looking guy with arms filled with hardbound books is walking past the apartment. "People… can be hard to understand sometimes."
"I'm beat," Fuuko admitted, resting her forehead against Tokiya's. "Thinking zaps my energy to nil. I should stop doing this."
"Thinking is good for you every once in a while Kirisawa. Deal with it." The ex-Ensui wielder snorted.
"I need to smoke," she mumbled. "I fucking need to smoke. Will you let me go outside, so I can smoke?" She pleaded as Tokiya's eyes narrowed at her. One of the rules in Tokiya's apartment is 'no smoking'. So if she wanted to huff and puff, she had to do it outside or at the small park—a good five minutes walk away.
"No," Tokiya tonelessly answered as he stood up.
Fuuko made a face. Somehow she had expected that answer from him. She was about to turn her attention to the empty street in front of her when she felt something landed on her thigh. She looked down and realized that it was the box of cigarettes she was hiding in the deepest recesses of her backpack, for emergency reasons of course.
"No, I won't let you go outside," Tokiya grumbled as he stared at her in a studious manner. "You can smoke here." He shoved a hand in his pocket and brought out a purple lighter which Fuuko recognized as hers.
How the hell did he knew of the pack? And why, for the love of Kami, is it in Tokiya's possession?
She grinned as he threw the lighter at her and she expertly caught it with one hand. Geez, so there's no use hiding things from him. Was she so predictable? Or maybe he really just knows her well.
She grabbed a cigarette from the pack, before offering it to him. He took one—much to her astonishment.
They smoked in silence; with Tokiya standing, arms leaning on the balcony while Fuuko remained on the floor, blankly staring at the street, watching the smoke from the cigarette swirl up with her peripheral vision. The silence of the vicinity was broken every now and then by some loud footsteps.
Suddenly they heard a screech. An over-excited girl was running along the street to catch up with her friends.
"Did you know?" The girl asked her friends in a breathless manner. "Someone got beaten up in the other street! Just a while ago!"
There were excited whispers everywhere. Fuuko ignored the conversation. She was not interested in it anyway. She had other things in mind right now.
"Poor guy." The girl (which was the bearer of the news) spoke up again. "Good thing somebody saw him sprawled on the ground and immediately called for help."
"U-wah!" Another piped in. "That's scary! What the hell happened to him? Did someone attack him? Or robbed him?"
"It seems like that gang is up to it again," Tokiya commented as he motioned to the group of girls with a slight tilt of his head. "Another victim."
"I don't care about that now," Fuuko answered as she rested her head against the railing, its coldness surprisingly soothing for her. "I'm trying to achieve tabula rasa here. My head's gonna fucking explode if I think again."
A snort came from Tokiya.
"Besides, the moment that gang pick me or you as their target… it's their end. They are no match to us anyway. So thinking about them is a waste of time." Fuuko muttered as she stared at the girls across the street again.
"Spoken like a true ass kicker," Tokiya nudged her head lightly with his knee. He flicked his half-finished cigarette away and Fuuko watched it land on the pavement, its orange glow perfectly noticeable on the dark pavement. "I'm gonna go take a shower," he said. "Are you going to stay here?"
Fuuko nodded.
"Just don't finish that whole pack by yourself," the ex-Hyoumonken master warned, before stepping inside the apartment.
Fuuko stuck her tongue out mischievously before grabbing another stick from the pack. She lit up and watched the group of hyperactive girls still prattling about the poor beaten up guy. Whether she wants it or not, their incessant chatter was beginning to pique her interest and she decided to listen to them. Somehow, she started to feel a bit sorry for the said guy. Inside Mikagami's room, she heard her phone ringing but she chose to ignore it.
"I'm having quality time with myself. So shut it phone." She mumbled under her breath as she brought the cigarette to her lips. She heard footsteps from Mikagami's room and her phone stopped ringing. Mi-chan probably answered it. She thought as she slowly blew out the smoke, watching the way it floated up in the air.
"Fuuko."
She turned her head sharply at the voice, surprised to see Mikagami standing near the sliding door; a towel was wrapped around his waist, her phone in his hand.
Her eyes wander up and down her boyfriend's body. "You are not trying to seduce me here… or are you?" Fuuko joshed. The teasing smile on her lips was instantly replaced with a frown when she noted the serious look on his handsome face.
"What's up?" She asked as a heavy and weird feeling appeared in her stomach and she stood up.
"Fuuko," Mikagami hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Natsuo's in the hospital. He was beaten up..."
Fuuko's blue eyes widened. The guy the girls were talking about earlier. Could it be…?
The cigarette fell out of her hand as she moved to grab her phone. Its ember glowed brightly against the balcony's floor as the smoke rose slowly; dispersing before disappearing in the cool night air.
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"I hate hospitals."
The words came out a bit slurred and kinda hard to understand.
"I fucking hate hospitals."
This time, when the words came out of Kamatari Natsuo's mouth, they are much clearer than before.
A brown-haired girl with kind eyes appeared in his line of vision. "Demo,Natsuo-kun," Sakoshita Yanagi peered at the face covered with small square gauzes. "It's against the doctor's orders to go home. So you are stuck in here for a while."
Another face appeared, this time with purple-hair and dark blue eyes. "She's right," Fuuko agreed with her high school best friend. "So why don't you be a good boy, eerr, girl and just rest here for now?"
"How can I rest when people keep popping up in my door every minute?" Natsuo complained.
"We can place a no visitors allowed sign on your door if you want," Yanagi suggested with a smile.
"Yeah we could," Fuuko backed up Yanagi's suggestion. "And stop complaining Natsuo-kun, I know you are enjoying all the attention being given to you." She teased and Natsuo stuck his tongue out at her.
"I have mean friends," he maundered.
"I beg to differ," Fuuko scoffed at him. "If you are able to spew out shits like that, then I don't have to ask how are you."
Yanagi smiled at her two bantering friends. "Natsuo-kun," she called for Natsuo's attention. "We brought you something."
Natsuo lips twitched up. "Which one? The basket filled with fruits?" His eyes traveled towards the other figure in the room. "Or Mikagami-sempai?"
Tokiya let out a small (and rather embarrassed) cough as Fuuko and Yanagi turned to stare at him.
"Geez, Natsuo," Fuuko said through gritted teeth. "You really are ok now. Though I'm wondering whether or not should I let you recover first before beating the shit out of you."
"It's the basket with fruits," Yanagi clarified to her hospitalized friend.
"The basket," Fuuko muttered. "Not Mi-chan."
A disappointed look crossed Natsuo's face.
"Don't start Kamatari," Fuuko warned. "I don't need to remind you that I can prolong your agony, as well as your stay here in the hospital."
Tokiya shook his head at their exchange and stepped closer to them to greet Natsuo. "How are you Natsuo-san?"
Natsuo's eyelashes fluttered instantly. "I'm fine sempai." Fuuko rolled her eyes at Yanagi as Natsuo shifted into his flirtatious mode. Yanagi bit her lip though her eyes crinkled in amusement at their friend's actions.
She then went to place the basket on the table beside the bed. There are two baskets there just like the one she's holding—probably from Natsuo's other friends. Near Natsuo's bed was a get-well-soon-card, attached to some red and blue balloons. Three baskets of flowers were resting on the floor at the foot of the bed. It seems like a lot of people already visited the popular sophomore before them.
She was a bit disappointed that she wasn't able to heal him using her powers since she doesn't have them anymore. "Erhm, Natsuo-san, you like to eat some fruits?" Yanagi asked. "I can peel some of these oranges for you. Or apples? Whichever you prefer."
Natsuo awarded her with a grateful smile. "Arigatou, Yanagi-chan. I would like some oranges if you don't mind."
As Yanagi opened the basket's cover to get some oranges, Tokiya went to her to help her peel the oranges while Fuuko sat on the bed and proceeded to ask Natsuo, "So why did you get beaten up? Any ideas?"
A sigh came out of Natsuo's lips. "No I don't. Someone just suddenly appeared out of nowhere when I was on my way home and started hitting me with something. I don't know what it is," he added. "It was too dark to see. Fuck him."
Yanagi stopped what she was doing. "Him?" She repeated as she stared at them.
Natsuo nodded but winced slightly when he felt a jolt of pain creeping up on the back of his head. "Yeah him."
"You're sure it's a guy Kamatari?" Fuuko queried.
"Yes I'm sure," Natsuo answered the question eagerly. "A girl wouldn't be able to beat me up like this."
"Except if it's Fuuko," Tokiya muttered under his breath, making Yanagi giggle.
"I heard that Mikagami," Fuuko growled.
"Were you robbed Natsuo-san?" Tokiya asked, ignoring the glare Fuuko was giving him.
"I wasn't," Natsuo responded. "I also thought that guy was a robber but all my personal belongings are still with me. My money, my phone…"
"So it's like he just beat you up with no apparent reason?" Tokiya asked again, making Fuuko frown while Yanagi's eyes widened.
"Yeah…" Natsuo agreed. "Kinda like that."
"I've been hearing about a group of guys who are randomly attacking university students. Maybe it's one of them." Yanagi piped in.
"So you've heard about it too Yanagi-san?" Tokiya said.
"Hai," Yanagi nodded.
"Was this the one you were telling me last night?" Fuuko tilted her head towards her boyfriend.
It was the silver-haired lad's turn to nod.
"You mean, you haven't heard of it Fuuko?" Natsuo asked in a snooty tone. "That news was so last month. And you call yourself a journalist." He teased.
"Shut it Kamatari. Don't tell me you've heard of it." Fuuko raised an eyebrow at her friend.
"Of course, I know of it." Natsuo admitted. "I'm a gossip whore, remember?"
"How come you never mentioned it to me before?" Fuuko inquired in an I'm-about-to-be-pissed tone.
"I thought I told you about it," Natsuo retorted as he brushed away some imaginary dirt on his blanket. "But you know what's strange? This guy that attacked me, he called me by my surname."
"He knows you?" Yanagi whispered in shock.
"Then," Natsuo continued. "He said something about making me pay for something I did." He breathed in deeply. "I was wondering what the hell did I do? Why do I have to pay for it? As far as I know, I didn't do any shit that'll offend anyone."
The other three people in the room looked at each other with questioning look in their eyes.
"Question Natsuo," Fuuko said. "Did you see your attacker's face?"
Natsuo pondered. "No, I didn't. He had a ski mask on." Yanagi approached his bed to hand him a small plate with peeled oranges in it. "That guy's probably deranged," Natsuo mumbled. "I'm just so lucky I got out of that alive. Let's just forget about it. I don't like mulling about unhappy thoughts. It won't make me fly anyway."
Fuuko moved away from the bed so that Natsuo can eat more comfortably. She drew close to Tokiya who gave her a small smile.
"Natsuo-kun," Yanagi called out softly. "Akira-san told me that someone brought you here when he or she saw you on the ground."
That caught Fuuko and Tokiya's attention. "Someone brought you here?" Fuuko directed her inquiry to her blond-haired friend. "Akira-san never mentioned it to me when we talked." She felt Tokiya's hand on her waist as she watched Natsuo's eye twinkled in merriment at the mention of his 'savior'. "So who's your knight-in-shining-armor?" Fuuko grinned at him.
"We want to thank him or her for helping you," Yanagi added with a tad of enthusiasm.
"It's a HIM, Yanagi-chan," Natsuo said with smile that could light up the whole room—if it was possible. "It's Hoshi. Yurikago Hoshi. He was the one who brought me here. Thank Kami for him!"
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"Hoshi? Hoshi was the one who helped Natsuo?" Fuuko muttered as she popped a cheese curl in her mouth. "How did that happen?"
"Maybe he was in the vicinity when Natsuo was attacked," Mikagami grumbled as he stared at the TV screen, wondering why in the world is he watching a stupid game show with people hitting each other with harisens.
Fuuko shifted from her position on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her and faced Tokiya. "Natsuo said the guy who attacked him called him by his surname. And tell me, is wearing a ski mask when you attack someone becoming a trend? Because if it is, the next time I want to kick someone's ass, I'll wear one too." The wind child remarked, as she grumpily chomped on another cheese curl.
"How's it becoming a trend?"
"Well for starters, when my stalker attacked me a few nights ago here, he had a ski mask with him," Fuuko explained. "He pulled it on when I started chasing him outside. That's why I wasn't able to see his face."
"Ski masks are necessary when you're sure that you're going to be recognized by whomever you wanted to attack," Tokiya said with a shrug.
Fuuko stopped in mid-chew and stared at Tokiya in horror when she realized what they both had just said.
"Oh my God! Don't tell me…?" Fuuko squealed and she jumped on a surprised Tokiya. "That's it! Natsuo and I knows both of our attackers, hence the ski mask."
The ex-Hyoumonken master winced when Fuuko's elbow smacked on his ribs.
"Come to think of it Mi-chan, what if my stalker and Natsuo's attacker are the same person?"
"If it is like you said… then why would he attack Natsuo?" Tokiya murmured, rubbing the affected part. "What did Natsuo do to him to piss him off, enough to send your friend to the hospital?"
"I don't know," Fuuko confessed as her shoulders slumped. "I don't have any idea."
"But don't you find it weird?" Fuuko said after a few seconds of silence. "Hoshi's name keeps popping out. From my stalker's descriptions and now… he's in the vicinity where Natsuo was attacked. My instinct keeps telling me that he's involved with all these."
"You don't know that for sure Kirisawa," Tokiya said as he rested his elbow on the couch's arm.
"That's what I think," Fuuko muttered, bringing her finger to her lips to suck on the excess cheese flavors on it. "So, any brilliant plans forming in your mind right now regarding all these?"
"I don't have any," Tokiya replied with a raised eyebrow.
"Like I'll believe that," Fuuko huffed, making a face at him. "Your calculating mind never runs out of plans."
Tokiya merely shook his head at what his girlfriend said. "Can we let it rest for a moment?" He said in a low voice. Frankly speaking… all these stalker talks are getting on his nerves. He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth, to casually lick the flavor coating on her other fingers.
The ex-Fuujin wielder's eyes widened in delight. "Kiya-chan," she crowed and he glared at the other nickname Fuuko made up for him. What's with her compulsion in deriving the weirdest nicknames for him?
"You can be a normal boyfriend sometimes too, ne?" She asked rather teasingly.
He proceeded to bite one of her fingers.
"Itai!"
Tokiya smirked at her reaction. He really has a sadistic streak in him.
"You really like hurting me don't you?" Fuuko accused as she withdrew her arm to examine her finger.
"Well… yeah," Tokiya admitted as he moved towards her to kiss her cheek. Fuuko tried to scoot away from him but he held on to her, nuzzling her neck.
She squealed in protest as he pushed her down on the couch, the bag of Cheetos she was snacking on falling onto the floor with the cheese curls scattering about.
Snack momentarily forgotten. TV momentarily forgotten.
Stalker shits… momentarily forgotten too.
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He fiddled with his camera lens, turning it a little to the right to adjust the camera's focusing ability. He just came from the hospital after visiting Kamatari Natsuo. He had seen what he had done to Fuuko's friend and it pleased him to a high degree.
Maybe he can take pictures of Natsuo in that state—just to amuse himself.
To be able to get so near to all of them and see that they don't suspect him of anything… it was so hilarious. He covered his mouth to stifle his laugh and his shoulders shook a little.
Enough of it! He chastised himself. You are here to take some photographs so quit your dilly-dallying.
He was at the small park near his apartment, sitting on a bench, watching the scenery in front of him. As expected on a Friday afternoon. The park was filled with people loitering about, having picnics in their checkered blankets, studying, hanging-out. Others were playing Frisbee and volleyball and running to and fro.
It was a good spot to practice his skills, as taking pictures of subjects and objects in motion are kinda tricky.
Demo… His usual procrastinating self retorted. Maybe you can relax a bit. Besides, is there really a need to take more photographs? We already had a lot back at the apartment. It's not like you're going to use it for the upcoming photography contest. We already have a great entry for it.
A smile appeared on his lips. Yes of course, he already have some entries for that stupid contest. But that doesn't mean we are entitled for a rest. He told himself. After all, a photographer never stops taking 'life snapshots'.
He lifted his camera, aiming it at a young boy with a Labrador beside him, about to throw the Frisbee in his hand.
He counted one, two, three…
And clicked!
-To Be Continued-
I also want to thank those who reviewed and actually liked my recent fanfic, Indulgence. *bows her head down*
To my dark ambient playlist, thank you for keeping me company while I'm writing some parts of this story. Playing you totally sets the mood and I was able to write. But still… I wasn't able to update for the month of September. There goes my 'once-a-month-update' goal down the drain. To make it up… I'll try to update twice for this month. But the deal is...
…READ and REVIEW please.