The Mask Shatters
Chapter 12
"Keheheheh! Oh my, how the plot thickens..."
The weather had not been predicted to be so harsh.
A rainfall was promised, yes. But not a storm so worrying to those who beheld it from the sanctuary of the indoor realm.
Behind glass windows and huddled in a break room, a power outage the likes of which have never been seen before within the company.
Sustained only by the stark quiet of the situation, the white collars stood amidst themselves, chatting to one another their worries - not of the storm - but of the CEO's reaction to what could only be described by him as "lollygagging".
Some of the employees, security among them all, just stood by the windows - watching the cascading vortex of summer's bounty. The rainy season was in full swing, and to many it was just a norm in their everyday lives.
However, despite that common normality, never before had there been a storm so heavy that it affected quite negatively the overall morale of the employees working at the headquarters of Okumura Foods.
"The storm's bad… Should we even be this high up...?" One person asked, to which another huffed and condemned their co-worker's frightened break.
"I don't care, quite honestly. Just shut up and enjoy your break."
Another employee stood by the windows, looking down upon the streets far below. She almost seemed awed by the sheer magnitude of everything, and a content smile was born onto her lips.
"This is actually really beautiful." She said, clasping her hands behind her back and observing the vehicles far below. "I've never actually stood by to look so closely at everything. But this?" She said, motioning to the scene before her. "Well, some say the city doesn't have beauty. But that definitely isn't completely true."
Himura was there, joining her with caution in each step. His own eyes, exaggerated by a familiar feeling of pure exhaustion, glanced downwards with a sudden fright in his eyes. "I-I suppose… But should you really be standing so close to the windows? It's a rather dangerous time right now." He asked her, keeping a slight few feet between him and the glass. "After all, Eguchi-chan, windows and lightning don't go hand in hand..."
Kiwa shook her head, smiling warmly at his worry. "It's too crowded in here, Arinori-san. I can barely breathe as it is with how many people are around…" She sighed, placing a lone hand on the glass in an almost mesmerized state. "But over here? I get the added pleasure of watching the rain, and the ability to not feel so cramped."
Himura glanced over at her, placing a lone hand in his pocket as he quietly assessed what she had just said. Looking at her, he indeed saw that her eyes were locked in what looked like a trance. Each soft patter of rain descending upon the glass, every murmur among their co-workers, every thunderclap. Nothing seemed to faze her. In fact, as he observed her further, he realized she wasn't wearing anything to protect herself from the elements, and instead donned a simple floral blouse over a twilight knee-length skirt.
Himura just looked at her, a question dancing on his tongue. But he withheld it, as he had long known her to be an eager pluviophile. The wonder she had with such a common occurrence, and the way she dressed to accommodate, one would think she had never before witnessed rainfall.
A small, content smile creased her lips, and it gave Himura enough cause to smile himself.
Joining her in gazing to the outside world beyond, he simply said "Well. I suppose it is calming."
Kiwa nodded, lowering her hand as she silently agreed with the man. "Kuraokami's work has always been enjoyable to watch. Even during the worst of days, Arinori-san."
Himura nodded, but said nothing more. He simply watched, a reasonable distance between him and the glass, as the storm raged on.
Among the murmurs of his co-workers and the quiet pitter-patter of the heavy downpour, Himura couldn't help but find a minor sensation of peace. This truly had been a hectic day, indeed. From carting Arthur to school to running back and forth between the Chief Clerk and his own office, Himura hadn't experienced a real moment of honest peace in this rather bothersome day. Even more so with his own rude awakening.
And a phone call that quietly frightened him.
A threat shriller than all the music he could ever listen to.
Himura shivered at the idea, but kept the fear absent as best he could. He didn't want to worry Kiwa. Especially not now, in her child-like wonder that Himura could only admire.
Just as he admired her beauty.
She definitely had the looks of a blue-blooded member of society, but her personality would definitely give one who didn't know better a good pause. Her outward friendliness, her unique sense of style when it came to her hair - which she had lately shaved to a buzz cut in an effort to start over - and even her simple mannerisms with events such as rain. To him, it was cute and wonderful.
A nice breath of fresh air from the people he normally had to force himself to associate with.
She was sweet, and a woman he held in a regard akin to a middle school crush. It's been this way for some time, and Kiwa seemed to never be aware of it despite his ever obvious tells. Even some of his co-workers, including the Chief Clerk, have picked up on it. But no one ever bothers to say anything - and why should they, as long as nothing actually happens?
But even so, Himura kept his true feelings on permanent lockdown. Nothing good would come from his say-so, he knew it. Everyone knew it. Fraternization was not tolerated in Okumura Foods, and those that dabbled would find themselves on the streets in the blink of an eye.
Himura hummed, scratching lightly at his chin as a thunderclap sounded not too far away.
On some level, this repression infuriated him. But on another, he knew it to be a necessary thing. Even more so now, with him taking care of a dear family friend. He needed the income and, in the eyes of their CEO, personal happiness wasn't worth the trouble.
Kiwa sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the man before giggling lightheartedly at the distance he kept between himself and the glass window.
Himura couldn't help but wonder.
Is Arthur doing OK?
Arthur's eyes shot open, greeted by the blur of a dark roof that sheltered him above. Eyes burning, head pounding, and lips quivering. He beheld the faint sight with a quiet inhale of what felt like stale, freezing air. He could barely force himself to move, as if paralyzed by what had just occurred only moments ago. His senses were tangled in a web of another's doing, and as the seconds dragged on, he could still find no energy to muster.
He grunted, clenching his eyes shut as the blur righted itself slowly as a pitched static screamed in his ears. His hearing returned moments later, and along with it a blissful silence.
A silence that mimicked the peace of a long night in the dark of a room, alone and hidden from the outside incursion of a society of wolves in sheep's clothing.
Arthur groaned, suddenly finding his own hand entering his vision. There was something strange about it and for a moment in his frazzled mind, Arthur couldn't pinpoint it.
"Am… Am I dead…?" Arthur asked himself, hearing his own voice echo within the confined room.
"Death." A refined familiar voice spoke up, to which Arthur responded with a sharp gasp. "A concept you've embraced once in the past only to shun moments later, yet you believe to have found it's chilling embrace even now..." He added, his slow, sharp steps echoing on the hard floor below. "However, in all your years of life, you have never truly experienced the cold touch of death…"
Arthur watched as he approached, long, inhuman arms stretched behind him - hands clasped together upon a mutant form. His long nose almost vacant as he stared directly into the eyes of his guest.
Bloodshot pupils glaring into his soul.
"...Never have you danced with the grim reaper, never have you knelt before a holy one in a time of absolute judgement, and never have you truly, even for a single moment, experienced the utter and complete bitterness of entire expiration…" He continued, waltzing ever so calmly to the still American. His grin plastered upon a pale, menacing expression. His steps grew loud, more pronounced. "So tell me, because I am rather eager to understand you further, dear Arthur."
Standing over Arthur, he brought a sickening hand to his chin, chuckling as Arthur watched. He could feel the fright growing in Arthur's mind. The terror the young American was feeling. The angst burning in his eyes. This was, after all, the first time Arthur had seen Igor stand from his chair. He looked like a monster born from a Frankenstein movie.
"What drives you so to the hollow concept of a fated demise?" He asked, watching Arthur intently for an answer.
An answer that was not provided.
Igor waited a moment, idling quietly as he beheld Arthur in his supine position. Arthur only remained reticent. Silent, as the otherworldly man hummed softly in his determined posture. "Hmph. Even with my vast knowledge of the unknown and the unseen, I can honestly say that I don't know…" He shook his head, shifting slightly as he turned away. "Maybe it's just in your nature as a pitiful human…" He chuckled lightly, stepping away as Arthur raised his head to track the bizarre man within this Velvet Room. "Fascinating…" He stopped, glancing over his freakishly small shoulder at the silent American. "...and foolish."
He slowly broke into a chortle that swiftly escalated into a cackle that gave Arthur pause; his strength renewing suddenly as the situation seemingly intensified. Igor soon found his place back in his chair, resting a cheek upon a clenched hand and quieting himself only when Arthur managed to completely right his figure. Arthur, confused, glanced once more down at his attire before Igor continued with his unsettling monologue.
"But that is precisely why you must tread this path to salvation. You are foolish. You are fascinating, as all your kind are. And you are cowardly… I see that now above all things." Igor said, slowly tapping his gloved hands upon his wooden desk. "…Your path to salvation can finally begin…"
"What-what the hell are you on about?!" Arthur suddenly shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at the dream man. "Furthermore, what the hell just happened?!"
"Hmmm?" Igor hummed, curious as to what Arthur was referring to.
"Good God, man!" Arthur exclaimed, jumping to his feet with a venomous gaze. A sudden fury was rising within his mind. "I just… All I wanted to do was go home! What the hell just happened?! Who the hell was that guy?! Who-"
"Stop." Igor commanded, raising a hand to silence the young American. But Arthur shook his head, gritting his teeth as he advanced upon the old man.
One solitary step at a time.
"Oh, hell no. You've been dragging me along with this so-called "salvation" BS for over a month now! You owe me some goddamn answers!" Arthur countered him, to which Igor just retained a dignified silence. "Is this your doing? Huh?! What the hell?! Yakuza?! Yakuza?! Jesus Christ! What are you dragging me into?!"
Beginning so, a pale redness shattered Arthur's skin as he stopped himself halfway. Anger seethed through his eyes. For a moment, Arthur seemed to have lost himself in the burning vexation he felt - not only at what had occurred in the real world, but at the quick idea that Igor was the one behind it all. A demigod, he appeared to be, after all. "I don't know who the hell you are, be you God, Satan, or fucking Buddha, I don't care. But I know you're behind this shit... Have you brought me here to taunt me some more?!"
Igor remained silent, as if deaf. But even so his cold, bloodshot eyes watched in what seemed like amusement as Arthur shook in place with rage. For Arthur? It seemed the Velvet Room had become something else entirely: A theatrical display of heated crimson and mad-fueled hate. Steadily, he could see nothing but red, and it was clear to Igor that Arthur had had his fill of the recent abnormalities.
Yet, even still, Igor remained motionless. Even halting the calm tapping of his fingers to witness fully the true mind of Arthur.
The boy took another step forward, clenching his hands shut tight. Almost like he was duly offended by Igor's quiet nature. "I have tried and tried to remain calm every time you point this sword's edge at me! But I am tired of this shit!" Arthur screamed at him, quickening his pace towards the bizarre old man. "Nightmares, rumors, and now the goddamn mafia?! What the hell man!"
By now, Arthur was upon Igor, staring down at him through narrowed, quivering eyes. Seeing nothing but a violent fury, he bore witness to a phlegmatic Igor. One who smiled and looked up at him, his chin resting on clasped hands. It appeared as if he was watching the apoplectic teen. Studying him further. Amused, and fascinated.
This served only to infuriate the American more.
"Why are you staring at me?! Answer me, goddamn you!" Arthur shouted, hammering a clenched fist down upon Igor's desk. But to Arthur's surprise, Igor remained stalwart in his silent study. He didn't flinch, he didn't blink. He only watched, and when Arthur leaned in, Igor refused to back away. "What is your game, you devil?"
Then slowly, a deep, haunting chuckle emerged from between his teeth as Arthur seethed in place. The display of barbed joviality took the manic teen off guard, and he lifted himself away from the amused dream man.
The chuckle was low and sinister-sounding, at first. But it grinded further from there, developing into a cackle, and soon to a full-on case of bellowing laughter that gave Arthur's rage a pause as he took a mere few steps away in caution.
Throughout it all, his teeth never parted, and his eyes never shut. He stared, looking right into Arthurs' soul, laughing with lips that bounced only slightly, and soon Arthur's unease developed further.
But the berserking rage he felt remained, and that was ever so apparent to Igor.
When the ghoulish host of the Velvet Room finally calmed himself, he wasted no time in responding, cryptic as ever with Arthur's plight.
"You humans are so entertaining, displaying your true emotions and removing the mask you hold so dear - both for yourself and for those around you - whenever a crisis emerges in your meek mortal lives." He stated, his voice declaring aloud both his joy and disappointment with Arthur's actions. "Your hate. Your rage. Your vindication… An essence of yourself... A fuel… Your true self hidden deep in the reaches of your mind where none may become beholden to it, not even yourself. Ugly, you see it. Once happy, vindictive it became. Sin it may be, a path you must hold to awaken to a true potential…"
"Christ, man! What does that even mean?! Sonofabitch, you and your goddamn crypticisms!" Arthur retorted, his voice echoing loudly - almost like a firecracker in an empty, metal room. "'Salvation this, fate that. Phantom Thieves here, change of heart there, blah blah blah!' Goddamn, just give me some answers already!"
"Silence." Igor rose his hand, fingers pressed together tightly to command the berserker's attention. Arthur, aware that Igor could put him to sleep with a snap of his inhuman fingers, glared dubiously at the bizarre man. Cognizant of his own actions, but mind clouded with rage, he moved to speak further; however, Igor stopped him. "Cowardly behavior, as I've come to realize, however. You have proven my thoughts on you, dear Arthur. But the path to salvation was never one to be walked easily. Anger and rage are a part of that path, and you have my support." The crooked host said, his voice as collected, refined, and deep as always.
"Yet, you turn loose your demons upon the wrong people. Sin they may be, you must put them towards a creative craft, not towards the belittlement of others. Continue on this road and you will find a world filled with nothing but ruin. Distortion will come first, however, and you will likely perish long before the destitution of Man comes to fruition. You would do well to silence yourself in my presence now, lest I banish you until you are of a calmer mind. But you may not have that long."
Arthur stopped himself, arching a brow as Igor spoke. The word "perish" catching the sudden attention of the young American. He righted his posture, squinting as he asked "What do you mean?"
"You have angered a very dangerous group of people today. An ambush you foolishly walked into, and it ended with the death of a big brother…" Igor informed him, pointing an accusatory finger at Arthur's impolitic actions. "A target has been painted on your back, and soon you may not live to tell a tale that would otherwise be woven, not by fate, but your own hands."
"Woah, woah, woah!" Arthur stopped him, interrupting the apparent briefing with raised hands. "Death? What? What are you talking about?"
Igor chuckled, finding the boy's ignorance a far cry from the anger he displayed only moments ago. "Have I not made myself any clearer?"
Arthur blinked, and quickly a sudden anger sprouted once more within his being. He raised his arms high, venting further frustration upon Igor.
"Again with the crypticisms!" Arthur shouted, but Igor ignored him with a wave of his hand.
"Ahh!" Arthur exclaimed in panic, finding quickly that he could no longer find his own balance. Collapsing to his knees with a pained grunt that echoed within this dark chamber, he felt little more than the sensation that he was kneeling upon thin air. "Wha-what the-"
"You are in a danger that I could not have foreseen so easily, dear Arthur. But like all things that will come to pass, you may overcome this. And I shall assist you as best I am able." Igor said, ignoring the teen's panicked grunts and feeble attempts to regain his footing. "So allow me to extend to you two gifts. Both you can handle now, upon your awakening to the deception that plagues your inner circle…"
He snapped his fingers, and before the feeble American appeared a thick mist that nearly clouded his own vision. It swirled before him, enshrouded and mystified the floor below, moving and shifting, and Arthur simply took in a deep breath as he watched - with little recourse left to his actions.
All while Igor chuckled quietly at his desk.
A form began to shape. It twisted and warped in place, almost as if the mist itself was constructing it from little more than a say-so. Slowly, Arthur felt that he could make out the distant shape. He squinted, all the while doing his best to keep himself calm lest he infuriate Igor further.
Soon, he realized what it was. And when the mist evaporated, leaving the object on the stone-cold floor, he reached out for it with a stupefied look donning his already straining face.
"A…" Arthur asked, holding the object within his gloved grasp. "...A ring…?"
Igor chuckled, tapping his fingers once again on his lonesome desk as the young American beheld the small, unimposing iron ring. "Quite." He confirmed, to which Arthur just looked up at him with a raised, shaking brow. "The second shall become apparent upon glancing at your cellular device… But we have run out of time. Your resuscitation is nigh, and I can no longer hold you. It's application will become clear to you in time, dear Arthur. But until then? Heed my words well." Igor said, slowly raising his hand for Arthur's send-off.
Arthur remained quiet, understanding well by this point how this worked. Frightened beyond measure, and the feeling in his legs absent, he could do nothing but listen as he quaked in his funeral attire.
"You have tarried to the brink in your disbelief, and as a man of logic, it is time for you to embrace the unknown, and ascend to places beyond the real…" He said, with a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. "..You are on the path… Enemies now dog you, and you have friends capable of aiding you. Look to them for guidance, and stalk those who you distrust. Answers will come. Salvation with it."
He snapped his fingers, and with that motion came a departure of Arthur's consciousness. The young man stirred in place a moment, grasping his head tight as the exhaustion set in. The ring dropped to the floor below, clicking and clacking as it bounced and rolled far away from him, almost landing directly by Igor's feet.
Amused, Igor simply chuckled as Arthur fell face first into - from Arthur's perspective - an abyss of endless darkness. The chill left him, leaving him in a feeling of absolute equilibrium. The deafening sounds of Igor's fingers tapping away at his desk vanished, and for a brief moment, it felt as if he no longer existed.
Like a spirit fading into the aether...
Then suddenly, he heard nothing but the sounds of sirens.
Lights flickered and flashed.
Slight bright hues of blue and red, but what followed was nothing more than a total, blissful, silence.
For a moment he just sat there, mind foggy and dazed, eyes perceiving nothing but a damp darkness - interrupted only by distant flashes of alarming colors.
His senses were muddled.
His voice was missing.
In his absence, he couldn't truly perceive if this was a dream or a stark reality.
What first returned to him was the feeling of reality.
A pounding pain boiling and bubbling in his head.
The cold, drenched feeling of a waterlogged body.
Soaked clothes…
Hair dripping and waterboarding the poor American.
And the chill of the air did him no further favors.
Second was his vision.
All he could see was a blur, his farsightedness taking a heavy toll in conjunction to his unlucky situation.
The strain his eyes felt cursed him silently, and it was a war to keep them open.
He groaned, feeling every sound vibrating within his body as he struggled to keep his eyes alert. He could feel his breathing going soft, yet abnormally erratic all the same.
What little he could make out within his enclosure, he spotted nothing but bars.
He let out a deep exhale, and slowly turned his gaze left.
A smooth vinyl car seat. Red and blue lights shining within from the outside world.
A padded door, with a foggy window to boot.
He grunted again, before glancing down at his shaking, pruned hands.
"Wh-what…" Arthur grunted, studying his trembling palms as he tried to understand his situation.
Beyond his palms, he witnessed his legs - clad in the colors of Shujin academy, drowned and soaked in with nature's fury. They too were trembling, almost beyond control.
And it was here began to feel a distinct burning sensation within his chest.
It tightens and churned, scorching within his mindless, shell-shocked state. His hands shook further in a less rhythmic fashion, and he lifted his head beyond himself.
A light shone into his eye, and he squeezed shut his lids almost on instinct.
The bright light almost blinded him for a moment as he lifted his hands up to shield himself, and as he sat there, confused further to where he was at, he felt a hand touch at his forehead. It was a gentle nudge, with fingers trailing across an increasingly damp-feeling area.
Arthur winced, a sharp pain soaring from the contact, and the fingers, despite how quiet and soft they ventured, felt coarse in texture.
He dared open a peep, and witnessed a blurry figure standing next to him, with countless figures further off.
And flashes of white within a dark crevice nearby.
"H-huh…?" Arthur groaned, raising his head to meet his assailant. But the figure lowered their hand to his shoulder, gently pushing the young American back into his seat. The light flicked off, and the figure bent over only to retrieve a dark sheet of some sort.
It gently draped it over the American, shielding him further from the cold, wet air that was this stormy day. Then it vanished, disappearing out of sight from the confused young man.
His vision would fade once more, whether it be exhaustion or hypothermia, it mattered little in the pitch black he soon found himself in.
His body relaxed, and suddenly his own skull felt lighter than the frigid air that surrounded him.
He drifted off, into a peaceful, calming sleep.
The power had returned mere hours ago.
The employees, far from relieved, had returned to their duties rather quickly. From the lowly janitors murmuring and complaining about their return to a shambly norm to the blue-blooded managers quietly secluding themselves in the elevators, intent on returning to their respective floors without socializing much with their "underlings".
Himura and Kiwa, however, were different in this regard. Two managers, different departments. Kiwa, a human resources manager, and Himura, a middle-manager for the customer service department. On an average day, the most they would see each other is in the mornings, and maybe sometimes after work.
Even on their rare days off, they would never see each other. Life being the busy culprit.
This was one of those few moments where they could truly have even conversed.
Himura himself, despite the fact they might not be paid for this - as the CEO would put it - languorous act, cherished it as it meant he got to spend more time with the woman he fancied.
Kiwa's shift, however, ended only an hour prior. Another manager had arrived to take her spot, leaving her afternoon, surprisingly, as free as a bird. Normally, she would have already departed the building, returning to her home in Yongen-Jaya.
But, seeing as she had already found herself within a dear friend's company, she decided to stick around a while longer. If not to allow herself a change in her norm, then to make Himura's day just a little bit sunnier.
They soon found themselves in Himura's office. Himura, sitting quietly in his chair with a stack of paperwork detailing recent customer complaints towards an act of insanity caused by a former Big Bang Burger employee. Kiwa, leaning quietly on his desk and watching as he rubbed his temples with a solemn sigh accompanying his annoyance.
"This guy…." Himura cursed quietly, gritting his teeth at the headache forming in his mind.
"Is this about…"
"Yep. Yep. Please don't talk about it. I'm gonna have an aneurysm." Himura stopped her with an open palm, to which she just giggled. Himura sat his pen down, leaning back in his seat as he glanced up at the woman. "Y'know? I knew this guy too. He was a nice fellow. Studious. Intelligent, too. I don't know why he fucking did it, but… Well. Whatever, I guess."
"It is what it is, Arinori-san." Kiwa interjected, shrugging her shoulders at the idea of worrying over such nonsense. "But I can hear it in your voice. You need to calm down. You're working yourself up. Heck, even I see the stress is taking a clear toll on you. You came in today in such a funk…"
"Ah… That.." Himura responded, leaning on the desk and avoiding even a quiet glance into Kiwa's eyes. Blinking, he said dully "Stress. Right… That's what it was."
Kiwa arched a brow for a moment, and then shook her head with a quiet gaze towards his windows.
"Y'know? I don't even know why you're not stressing over this, Eguchi-chan… Your department is Human Resources. They're eating your people alive over there right now, and…" He then paused as he noted her silence, glancing up at her and - in her reticence - believing her to be absent from the conversation, he stopped himself with a glower of his eyes. "Nevermind..."
Himura sighed once more "I don't even know why I work here…" He quietly spoke, kicking his foot ahead and spinning his chair around to join Kiwa's watch. The motion didn't even catch her attention, with it being firmly locked onto the storm outside.
From there on, silence reigned between them. Uncomfortable in feeling and eternal in lapse. Himura would occasionally glance at Kiwa, and note her stare being something he wasn't exactly used to. She seemed fixated on the rain, just like earlier. It was cute then, and even now he couldn't help but admit that it still felt adorable. But now? It felt somewhat different.
Her childlike wonder was gone.
Replaced by what looked like a face that only one who had seen horrors beyond imagining could bear to don.
A thousand yard stare, accompanied by the rare blink, and it became obvious to him that she wasn't watching the rain and enjoying the visage but instead lost in a realm of thought.
Himura winced, taking his eyes off of her when he realized he was the definite cause of it. He opened his mouth to try and apologize, but a distant thunderclap caught his attention, and soon all was forgotten as he sank in his seat - defeated by the stress of his social, romantic, personal, and professional lives.
"God kill me now…" He thought, resting his chin lazily within the palm of his hand.
"Arthur's probably home by now…" Himura eventually murmured, beholding the whirlwind unfolding outside in between half-shut lids.
"Oh yeah. How is he, at any rate?" Kiwa suddenly spoke up, taking her eyes off the rain and surprising Himura with her sudden retort. "You haven't spoken much about him as of late… Is he getting on well?"
"Uh...Fine, fine… I suppose…" Himura stammered, attempting to give her the most honest answer he could muster. But in truth, not even he knew exactly how well Arthur was getting along. He doesn't speak to him often, and it has been that way since the kid's arrival. How little he really sees him, he can't get the American to open up.
But, of course, Himura just chalked it up to an awkward teen being an awkward teen. He had that right, considering all he went through…
"Don't talk to him much because of my job, heheh…heh...heh…." Himura quietly chuckled, to which Kiwa nodded in response. "But… He seems to be making friends. He's even on good terms with their student council president… A lady friend of his, from what I've gathered."
Kiwa managed a wry smile, and giggled at the prospect. "Oooh. Kudos to him, then." She said, to which Himura nodded in agreement. "How'd they meet?" She then asked, to which Himura just idly shrugged his shoulders.
"Eh, the kid's as mute as an old cat." Himura responded, lowering his arm as he looked up at the woman. "Doesn't want a-"
Suddenly, the building's intercom system buzzed from a static silence to a booming, loud life with a single deafening note - silencing the two as the condescending, annoying tone played aloud for all to hear.
Indeed, it felt even to them that the whole building went silent just to ascertain the reasoning behind the intercom's usage.
Himura looked up, curious as to what's going on. Kiwa joined him, eyes wide as a voice shortly-after played.
"Middle-Manager Himura Arinori. You have a phone call on line 3."
Kiwa looked down at Himura, to which he just spun around slowly, shrugging at her with a look of indifference present on his tired, exhausted face. "I wonder what this is about…" He murmured, reaching for the phone next to him as a button on the keypad blinked rapidly.
Placing the device to his ear, and clicking the blinking button, he spoke formally "Middle-Manager Himura Arinori speaking."
The voice on the other end wasted no time in addressing the man. A very rough, very commanding voice caught Himura's attention. Addressing him with his full name, and even sounding like he was forced to yell above the sounds of sirens and a deafening storm that took to the sidelines.
"Himura Arinori, this is Officer Nagao Yoichi of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department..."
Somewhere, in a foreign restaurant near Station Square, a young man sat alone by a bar.
Surrounded by those who sought food, and others who sought shelter from Nature's onslaught outside, he kept himself silent and huddled as closely as he could to the edge of the counter.
The staff and patrons spoke aloud to one another. Foreign languages clashing with each other just as the elements clashed with the city.
"Damn rain…"
"Pogoda tutaj jest okropna... Tęsknię za Polską."
"Tell me about it. Work let out early and we had to leave before the doors locked! This is bullshit!"
"W tym przypadku zgadzam się z Tobą. Ale co z Viktorie? Przykro mi z jej powodu, jest tak daleko od domu."
"I heard sirens earlier. A whole lotta them. Must be a bad accident."
"To nie moja sprawa kolego. Wszyscy wiedzieliśmy co robimy gdy zgłosiliśmy się do tego."
"Those Poles are getting on my nerves. Why can't they just speak Japanese?"
Idle chatter and talk from so many people, from so many walks of life. He heard it all, and yet he chose to remain silent. He wasn't intent on eavesdropping, but had nothing else to do while he waited for this revenant of a storm to subside.
He easily stood out as an abnormality. He was young looking, yet a glass of scotch on the rocks in hand with his eyes glued to a TV above him. He wore a blue hoodie and jeans, with the hoodie itself looking to be a deep shade of tinted velvet. His hoodie was up, concealing his identity further and setting those near him into a state of a steady unease.
Of everyone in the establishment, from the businessmen and staff, a couple of police officers and students, he definitely stood out the most.
No one bothered him, however. Whether it be unease or simple common decency, he didn't know. Nor did he care. He was content to sip away at his cold scotch alone until he was free to leave.
Eventually, in his solitude, a young, petite server came up to him. She was a very young woman, couldn't have been older than sixteen with a bald head and bright hazel eyes. She was smiling, giving off a genuine vibe of friendliness to the man. Her approach did not go unnoticed, and he looked up at her curiously, momentarily stunning her with his piercing yellow eyes.
"Oh, uh..." She stammered, taking a frightened step back at such an unnatural eye color. She quickly righted herself, and after clearing her throat, asked "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
He shook his head, replying to her in a Scottish accent. "I'm fine."
She blinked, surprised further by his accent. But she didn't push it. She simply nodded and, with a cheery smile, said "Well, let me know if that changes!"
She then quickly scurried off, set into a visible disturbed state by the young man.
His eyes trailed back to the TV with the newscaster, a man named Mr. Nishihara, covering a shooting that occurred not too long ago.
A shooting involving a private detective and a yakuza thug.
"...and the police are still interrogating the shooter to ensure that the killing was justified and legal. More on that at eleven…"
The young man leaned back in his seat, watching further as pictures of the scene appeared on screen, showing blood, a body, and a picture of the shooting suspect.
It was a subject he had been paying sharp attention to for the past few minutes, watching as the newscaster talked about a young American being involved, and how he was a victim of kidnapping.
Yet, no picture of the kid was shown, and he quickly deduced that this was to protect the young victim.
The man scoffed, taking another sip of his scotch as the reporter cited off the possible charges the shooter faces if the killing was found to be unlawful.
"Interesting…"
Arthur's eyes shot open, revealing a world beyond the glimmering darkness that sat behind closed eyelids.
What little he could make out was convoluted within a hazy blur, no doubt the product of a coupling between his pounding headache, and his cursed farsightedness.
All he could make out before him was a seat, occupied by a black haired individual who paid him no mind. The inside of the vehicle being a stark tan with seat coverings the color of midnight black.
He could see from the beyond window, battered by the onslaught of the storm they were caught in. The windshield wipers were fighting their crusade to keep vision impossibly clear, and soon his hearing returned to him - revealing the disgruntled voices of a rather familiar man and unidentified woman.
The former seemed frightened and angry both at the same time, while the latter seemed calm, yet unnerved by frustration that dominated the air around them all.
"Goddamnit, goddamnit…."
"Arinori-san…. You need to calm down!"
"Calm down? Calm down?! Good Jesus-Fuck woman! Arthur's in deep shit right now!"
Arthur grunted, attempting to lift his hands to view but something stopped him. Squinting, he struggled a moment to even garner the miniscule strength required to glance downwards, and for a moment he was unsure of what he was looking at.
A large, black fabric of some kind was smothering his body, ending just below the neck. Cradling and swadling the young man in place, protecting him from the frigid air that burned into his open eyes, further promoting discomfort in an otherwise warm location.
"Just calm down… Williams-kun is alright… The private investigator ha-"
"Had, what?! If he hadn't shown up when he did, what would've happened?!"
"Arino-"
"Furthermore, the guy was yakuza! Yakuza!"
"I understand that, Arinori-san. But, there's no use in panicking over it now. What's done is done…"
Arthur lurched forward, the distant call-out of the word "yakuza" sounding vaguely familiar to him. The blanket fell from grace, landing at his waist as he tried to move. But it was for naught, as he quickly found himself restricted by a seatbelt.
"He's dead, Eguchi! DEAD!" The man, Arthur finally realizing to be his guardian, shouted, nearly causing this "Eguchi-chan" to tense up. Himura paused for a moment, letting out a loud, vehement huff as he quietly added "Good God, we're not in a good situation right now…"
Arthur, his senses returning to him, shielded his face a moment as he tried to comprehend exactly what had exactly gone down, but his mind continued to remain hazy. The word "yakuza" had a distant familiarity. Why that was, he could not figure out.
"Y-y...yakuza…?" Arthur churned aloud, giving Eguchi a sudden fright as she turned about with a slight squeal.
"Jesus Christ!" Himura shouted, the tires screeching as he slammed a foot down on the brake-pedal. Arthur, feeling the force of the sudden stop nearly throwing him from his seat, added his surprised voice into the mix as the car came to an immediate and absolute halt.
"Arinori!" Eguchi shouted, holding a hand to her chest as the car abruptly slid to a stop. Himura looked over at her accusingly.
"You're the one who screamed!" He fired back, to which Eguchi didn't argue further. She simply sat in place, her breathing as unregulated as Arthur's at this point. She simply shook her head, glancing back at a frightened Arthur with a wary gaze. "The road's empty anyways…" Himura added silently, shifting into park as he did his best to relax in his seat.
"W-where… where am I…?" Arthur breathlessly asked, looking between this Eguchi woman and Himura for an answer that didn't immediately arrive.
For a moment, Eguchi and Himura were silent, with the former doing her best to calm herself down from the sudden fright of their squelching stop within a storm. Himura remained quiet as well, staring straight ahead with a lazy eye as the question bounced around in his mind.
Seconds passed as the fear-tipped inquiry remained unanswered, and Arthur almost felt it necessary to repeat himself when a breathy Eguchi turned back to face him - her mind seemingly pieced back together.
"Uh, Wi-Williams…. It's OK… You're alright, now." She said, looking him dead in the eyes and forming as warm a smile as she could muster. "You're in Arinori-san's car. We came to pick you up as soon as we heard what happened…"
Himura nodded, leaning his elbow onto his car door as he added "It's a hell of a thing what happened, too…" He sighed, shaking his head in a slow manner.
Arthur, meanwhile, was unsure exactly of what they meant. But his curiosity was more or less peaked with this newcomer, and he couldn't help but voice his concern. "Uh… I-I'm sorry, but… Who are you…?" He asked her.
"Oh, right. We haven't actually met yet, have we?… I'm Kiwa. Kiwa Eguchi." She introduced herself, to which Arthur just looked at her a moment in response with an offputting look on his face. The exact type of look that said "OK. And?". Himura noticed the silence, and spoke in her stead further.
"She works with me, Arthur. A good friend of mine." He said, to which Arthur slowly nodded as he slouched back in his seat. Himura then softly rubbed his temples, sighing once more as Kiwa smiled at him.
"I've heard a lot about you, Williams-kun… Uh, g-good things, of course!" She said, adding that "Himura speaks very highly of you."
Arthur nodded once more, finding it painful to even think up a proper response. Kiwa herself kept an eye on Arthur, and after a moment she winced as she reached out towards him, narrowing her eyes in a fit of worry.
"They said the contusion was bad…" She murmured, to which Arthur just looked at her with an expression of dazed concern. "Looks like they took care of it though…" She said, placing a hand on his forehead - eliciting a pained hiss from Arthur as he quickly shoved her hand away.
Not out of spite, but out of the idea that he didn't know this unfamiliar woman.
"Contusion... ? What…?" Arthur asked, unsure of what she meant.
"Arthur… How much do you remember of what happened?" Himura suddenly asked, looking over his shoulder at the confused young man, his eyes conveying that a truckload of stress was weighing not just on Arthur, but himself as well.
But the young American said nothing. He simply shook his head, silently communicating to Himura of his lack of any intimate knowledge on the current situation at hand.
Himura then sighed, shaking his head in quiet discontent. "Well, I suppose it makes sense. The officers involved said you came to several times throughout their interrogation and you weren't making any sense…" He said, leaning back in his seat as he spoke quietly. "Something about "salvation" and a man named "Igor" and whatnot… There were Phantom Thieves too and something about a ring…? The men in blue said you might have a concussion." Himura shrugged, as if he believed the diagnosis himself. Turning to face Arthur, he eyed him quietly for a moment, humming to himself as he looked the kid over. Then, with a slow outreach towards him, he pressed his fingers against a spot on his forehead, eliciting a sharp, boiling pain that Arthur recoiled from.
He yelped, shoving Himura's hand away.
"Yep, yep." Himura groaned, leaning back into his seat. "That gauze and numbing cream isn't helping any. We'll have to switch it out when we get back."
"Gauze…?" Arthur echoed, slowly reaching up and inspecting the agitation. Sure enough, he discovered a soft pad covering what felt like a very tender wound. Arthur jerked forward, suddenly wary of the ramifications behind this. "Was..was I hurt? What happened? H-Himura..? A-and… Kiwa, was it?"
She nodded with a small smile on her face, and Himura spoke up to answer.
"Well. I'm not privy to one-hundred percent of the details… But I received a phone call directly to my office about an hour ago… Cops." He explained, to which Arthur remained silent and dutifully listened.
All the while, a warm feeling began creeping from the depths of his heart. A warm feeling that Arthur did not like.
"They said you had been attacked on your way home from school by, as they described, a goddamn yakuza thug. After seeing his corpse, and the tattoos, I can safel-"
"C-Corpse?!" Arthur, the warm feeling growing in both wealth and measure, coughed out, to which Himura grimly nodded.
"Yes… Very unpleasant, I know…" He said, before quickly adding "A private investigator had caught him and tried to apprehend him. But the bastard pulled a gun, and... the rest is history…"
"The police suspect he might be involved in that criminal ring in Shibuya, as those yakuza punks have been targeting Shujin students in the area… At least, that's the rumor that's been going around." Kiwa added, to which Himura scoffed and looked back at her.
"It is what's happening." He said. Kiwa blinked, and Himura explained further how he knew. "His school called an-" He tried to add, before being sharply cut off by a staggered, suddenly shocked Arthur.
"Wait a minute. Someone died?" Arthur asked once more, surprised and battered by the idea that it could be so easily brushed aside. "How-how can you just gloss over something like that?!"
Himura looked at the kid, a grim expression present. Then, suddenly, Arthur's face went stiff. His eyes wide, and suddenly his mind was empty.
Clear of any thought and emotion aside from a stark feeling of disbelief. Slowly, he arched over in his seat and hid his mouth behind an open palm as he cast his eyes to the floor below. Moments passed as they all sat in silence, Kiwa and Himura allowing it so Arthur could get a full grasp on his situation.
Himura seemed oddly calm, a stark contrast to earlier. A calmness that even Kiwa noticed, but chose not to comment on. It was clear to her that he was fighting the urge to panic for Arthur's sake. The boy had barely noticed, however, and remained still. Almost staring into his muddied, waterlogged shoes and muck-covered Shujin pants.
Suddenly, thoughts began to rush into Arthur's mind. Muddled, draining thoughts of his entire time in Japan thus far. From the rumors to the social exclusion, from the lack of care that he was sent here with, and even thoughts of the thug that had accosted him.
Dead.
He imagined the man's face, blood gushing from his lips. A lifeless visage of a person who had a life beyond crime.
Arthur even remembered his previous encounter with the man, and that he had mentioned he had a wife.
A life taken… All because Arthur was in the wrong place, in the wrong time.
Arthur huffed, lifting his head up slowly and quietly.
A salty wetness drifting from his eyes, and down his pale, pale cheeks.
As the seconds ticked by in full, almost a minute in its entirety in a deafening silence, Himura noticed the color beginning to drain from Arthur's face.
"A-Arthur…?" Himura asked, watching the abnormality transpire. Kiwa looked at Arthur, unsure of what was going down. "Arthur?!" Himura pressed him, unbuckling his seatbelt as he began to realize exactly what was about to go down. "Oh God, I suppose it's been a long time coming..."
"Himura, what are you-" Kiwa asked, watching as Himura quickly jumped from his seat into the whirlpool of rain swirling dangerously outside, quickly joining Arthur in the rear seats; soaked to the bone just like Arthur.
Kiwa, meanwhile, watched as tears began to slowly trickle down Arthur's cheeks, and she noticed his breathing quicken, and his voice stagger and falter as he tried to speak.
"W..W...Wh...Wh…" Arthur stumbled, his voice breaking with each attempt.
Himura shook his head, disappointed in what he was witnessing. Not so much in Arthur, but rather the circumstances that allowed this. "Goddamnit, I thought he had worked through all this…" He murmured, turning to face Arthur fully. "Arthur? Arthur?" Himura said, placing a comforting hand on Arthur's back. "Come on, kid. Speak to me. Don't break. Speak to me."
"Why… Why… Why…" Arthur repeated himself hunching over to hide himself from the two. Panic was entering his mind, and Himura's physical touch only served to frighten him further. "Same as there… Same as home…"
"Huh..?" Kiwa hummed, looking to Himura for answers. "Arinori-san, what is-"
Himura gave her a sharp look, signaling to her that it would be best to keep quiet for now. She stopped herself, slowly closing her mouth and nodding a confirmation to him.
Himura then sighed, and scooted closer to Arthur as he panicked in place. He could see the tears streaming at a growing pace, and Arthur's sobs only served to quiet him further. He has seen this before. A long time before Arthur even set foot in Japan.
"The rumors… The troubles… Everything… The same… Same as home… Same as before… Nothing changes!" Arthur sobbed, scattering his words around as his mind jumbled itself into a steady static. His huffs for air became more prevalent by the second. One could even see him struggling for air as he sobbed. A norm in these situations. "Now I've gotten someone killed?!" He added, to which Himura widened his eyes in response.
"Arthur."
"What the hell…? What the-This- This was supposed-No…. No…" Arthur stammered, barely making any sense to the other two in the car. "Why… What a sick joke…" He sobbed further, to the point his words were barely even distinguishable. "Same… as… home… Nothing changes! I can't, I can't…!"
Himura shook his head, listening to the indescribable wails of his American charge. Kiwa meanwhile looked on, unsure of what to make of the scene. "I hadn't realized it was this bad…" Himura commented, patting Arthur on the back to remind him he was in the company of someone who cared deeply for him.
"Arinori-san..?" Kiwa asked, to which Himura shook his head further to quiet her.
"We can talk about this later… Arthur needs silence for a moment." Himura spoke quietly, adding that "It's the only way he can quickly collect his thoughts."
Kiwa then nodded, and watched further as Arthur continued his descent into a smothering, sobbing fracus that only surprised her and silenced Himura - both vocally and mentally.
"I just… It doesn't end… It doesn't end!" Arthur wept uncontrollably, his cheeks a waterfall by this point. Everything Arthur said, everything he conveyed, worried Himura to no end. Himura knew he had had no time for Arthur since his arrival in the country. But according to everything Arthur had told him each day, it seemed as though Arthur had been getting on fine.
"How wrong I was…" Himura thought, looking at the young American with nothing but pity.
As the minutes dragged on with Arthur in his hunched over state, crying and sobbing uncontrollably, words that made little sense to Himura.
Not to mention Kiwa, who has had no interaction with the young man until now. She didn't know what to think, and with everything Himura has told her, it's hard to believe this is the same young man she's heard of.
Himura sighed, listening to Arthur carry on about how "everything is the same". That "nothing changes".
That "his mistakes will follow him everywhere".
Every now and again, Arthur would mention the thug's death and how he felt at fault. As little as he could manage to say, it became clear that the just deserved punishment to such a reprehensible creature was something Arthur couldn't stomach if he was to blame for it. Himura, during these moments, would normally open his mouth to protest but reminded himself that Arthur needed silence if he was to recover quickly into a stable mind.
If anything, Himura was to blame. Not Arthur.
But Arthur didn't know that.
And he would rather not even speak of it with Kiwa around.
"What...what...what have I done...to deserve...such...hell…?" Arthur asked himself, sobbing to the point that his throat was no more than a scratchy tube.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Arthur's cries and wails slowed and quieted down. They devolved from tears and sobs to huffs and silence. He remained hunched over, eyes covered by soaked, salty hands. Kiwa and Himura watched closely to see what would happen next.
But nothing followed. Just a young American sniveling and quaking in his shoes at an unfair and unjust life.
Himura exchanged glances with Kiwa, the former careful with how to proceed, the latter unsure of what to do. But both were wary of not upsetting him further.
Himura opened his mouth to speak, and quietly said the young man's name.
Arthur didn't budge at first. Just sniffling in place and doing his best to hide himself from the other two. But Himura persisted, calling out to him again with a slightly more stern voice. Arthur then conceded, lowering his hands slightly to peer over at Himura.
"Arthur." Himura said, noting Arthur's attention. He could see the young man's bloodshot eyes, the fear in his pupils. He wasn't out of it yet. Not by a longshot.
But he was calm, and that was enough to prompt Himura to speak once more.
After all, this is how he handled it before.
A year ago…
Himura brought the young American closer, hugging him tightly and surprising the fearful Arthur to no visible end.
"You're gonna be alright. I promise."
Post-Chapter Author's Note
Edited by Frozen Foe and Kabuto S. Inferno.
Polish Translations provided by Nelakori.