Two days later...
Ougi Takaya showed up at school near noon that day, for the first time in perhaps three weeks. For the hyper-sensitive student body, his presence alone was enough to elevate the tension within the school.
The students he passed in the corridor whispered about him behind his back, seemingly ignorant of the fact that their gossip carried easily to his ears. Takaya knew that he was regarded not only by the teachers but by his fellow students as a nuisance. Here comes trouble, their eyes told him.
Takaya was already used to it. He’d only look like a fool if he gave any sign that the anger and contempt in those stares mattered to him now. If I pay them any attention, I lose. He coldly closed his heart against them and walked on expressionlessly.
“Been about three weeks since you last came to school, hasn’t it, Ougi.”
He stopped and glanced around at the deep, harsh voice. Its owner was Oonuki, the guidance counselor, who was wearing his usual trousers (which always looked like the same pair), threadbare necktie, and overbearing expression. Rumor claimed that he was the hen-pecked husband of a woman from one of the old families, and took his shame and resentment towards being adopted into his wife’s family out on the students.
He always carried an elastic stick pointer, which he habitually brandished at the students. Today it was already fully extended.
“You think pretty highly of yourself. So you come to school when you feel like it, leave when you lose interest?”
“...”
He tapped the pointer lightly against Takaya’s cheek. “Looks like you haven’t been home, hmm? Go out and have fun every night, do you?”
He averted his face from Oonuki’s foul breath. “So how about this rumor that you’re hanging around Mitsui? Is it true?” Oonuki pressed indifferently.
Takaya lifted his eyes slightly, and Oonuki snorted a laugh. Even his gaze felt slimy, as if he were running his tongue all over Takaya’s face.
“Up to no good in any case, hmm? If you’re keeping company with feeble-minded trash like that—well, I guess it’s true what they say about birds of a feather and all that.”
“...”
“What were you doing last night? Riding a motorcycle? Extortion? Drugs? You remember lots about it, I bet? What happened to that hand?”
He wrenched Takaya’s burnt left hand forward. Takaya glared fiercely back at him.
“They’re teaching you nothing good, I’m sure. You’d better get your head on straight, and fast. Or do you want to become the trash of society like them?” the counselor scoffed, then thrust his hand into Takaya’s pocket and grabbed his last few remaining cigarettes. He held the crushed sticks up in front of Takaya’s face.
“If you want to straighten yourself out, come to the teachers’ room after school for counseling. There are quite a few things I want to talk to you about. ...Your loss if you don’t show up.”
Oonuki gave Takaya a thin, vicious smile before continuing down the corridor. Fuck you, you asshole, Takaya snarled inwardly as he looked at the man’s back, when a student spoke from next to him.
“You’re better off not going.”
He turned to see Kayama from the next class, another student who stood out. The hair above his thin face was blond, and so wavy that it made his face look lumpy. Takaya knew that his friends made fun of him for it and called him “the gold bird’s nest”. He was in Takaya’s year, and belonged to the so-called “Yankee1 Gang”, a group Takaya didn’t really have anything to do with. He recognized Kayama, but that was as far as it went.
“The last time I went to the teachers’ room, he preached at me until dark. If you look rebellious or whatever, he’ll hit you for complaining. And he tries to touch the girls. Have you heard? A girl he called in the other day, he made her take her clothes off in front of him, and now she’s skipping. The school doesn’t know the real reason, though.”
“... Not like I was planning to go in the first place.”
Kayama smiled hopefully. “I knew it. You’re with Mitsui-san’s group, aren’t you? I heard. He’s that guy, right? The one who dropped out right after entering senior high? People’re saying that he got scouted by the professionals and that he carries the Seiyuu Group’s silver badge. Man, that’s so cool. That means he’s an associate member of the mafia, right?”
Takaya looked at Kayama warily. Kayama leaned back against the wall with an obsequious smile.
“I heard you deal with him as an equal. You’re pretty special. And you don’t hang with anyone, either. But...” he looked out of the window. “You should be careful in the school, you know? ’Cause there’re some people who don’t like hearing about you getting too close to Mitsui-san.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Some third years. Yokomori and Ichinose and their lot. They don’t got Mitsui-san’s brains, and they’re always fawning over him, so if they knew that someone younger than them is part of his gang, they’d be pretty pissed. They’d think you were stealing their place or something.”
“Humph, so they’re gonna try taking me on or something?”
“They’re jealous. It’s humiliating for them, ‘cause it’s like ’you punks couldn’t get in, hah!’ or something. But they seem to think Mitsui-san can’t interfere inside the school, so they can just do whatever. Eh, it’s better leave stupid things like that alone, but I’m just telling you that that’s what I hear.”
Takaya’s expression was cold. Yokomori and Ichinose—they‘d called him out last year for being ’impertinent’ and ‘rude’. It’d been such a stupid idea for him to get into a fight with them, but they’d run off with their tails between their legs at the first hint of a threat. So they probably didn’t have any fond memories of him anyway.
(This is so stupid...they can do whatever the hell they want.)
Takaya sighed. “Thanks for that, Kayama.”
“Hey you don’t have to thank me! I don’t want you to lose either.”
Takaya’s brows knit at Kayama’s eager smile.
“They think they can throw their weight around just ’cause they’re a year older, and it pisses us off too. But you’re special, so I hope you’ll smash their noses in or something. I mean, well, that’s just the modest hope of a common Yankee...”
What a weird guy, Takaya thought to himself, inclining his head. A group of friends appeared from the stairwell.
He started.
(Narita—...)
The other boy had noticed him as well. Their eyes met, and Takaya’s expression hardened. He was terrified of Yuzuru having told anyone else about that night. He secretly shuddered at the thought that Yuzuru might try to speak to him here.
Hurried on by his friends, Yuzuru entered the classroom. Though slightly relieved, Takaya glared fiercely after him.
“Ougi? What’s up?”
“That guy, Narita...”
“Oh.” Kayama was in the same class. “Narita Yuzuru? He’s the son of the dentist at the top of the hill. What about him?”
“Ah, nothing. What kinda guy is he?”
“What kind? Well...” Kayama thought for a moment. “Kinda odd. He’s usually one of those serious, diligent sorta guys. He stays away from people like us and looks kinda uncomfortable when he has to talk to one of us. But somehow it’s like he adapts really quickly, even to the people he never interacts with. I can’t really make him out. He throws me in for a loop, that smile of his. It’s like he doesn’t know how to be cautious with anyone, and it makes you lower your guard, too...”
“Isn’t he just a kid?”
“Well, maybe. But I’m a bit scared of him.”
“Why?”
“Why am I afraid? It might be just my imagination, but...” Kayama crossed his arms and responded seriously, “He always looks like he’s smiling, but sometimes his eyes change, just for a second. They look at you so intensely that it makes you shiver— I mean, well, his eyes are so clear and round that it’s probably just the angle that makes them look like that. Oh, and I’ve heard that he’s really sensitive to spirits and stuff,” Kayama added, and Takaya stared at Yuzuru through the classroom door.
(Scary, huh...?)
He certainly couldn’t deny that he also had the sense that Yuzuru was no ordinary kid.
(What a joker...) Takaya huffed. Just then—
“Ougi.”
Takaya turned slightly at a familiar voice. Three bulky boys were walking towards him.
“Ah,” Kayama gasped.
“We wanna talk to you.”
“...”
Takaya returned their gazes indifferently. Speaking of the devil...
(Yokomori and Ichinose from third year...)
Takaya snorted a laugh and replied, “How ’bout we take it up to the roof then?”
Naturally, the talking led to fighting.
As Kayama had warned him, the topic of the conversation was Mitsui. Roundabout as it was, he got the gist: they took exception to Ougi Takaya, who was not only younger than them but their underclassman in the same school, hanging around Mitsui, whom they practically worshipped, with such familiarity, in complete disregard of their prior claim. Yokomori and his lot appeared to have some asinine plan to take over the school, and were infuriated by those who ignored the seniority system.
He didn’t bother listening until the end of the rant.
“You called me up here for this rubbish?” he interrupted, and Yokomori and the others immediately changed color.
“What?!”
“How is it any of your business who I hang out with? Humph. Older? Younger? That’s all bullshit. Ability’s the thing that counts, so if you’ve got the time to waste quibbling with other people, why don’tcha try putting more effort into using that wasted lump you call a brain?”
“You punk, who the hell’d you think you are, lording it over us?!”
“Lording, am I...?” Takaya mocked. “Guess you can just call me Lord Ougi, then.”
That was when the talking stopped. Though he conceded that the three-on-one odds were not in his favor, he wasn’t about to roll over for anyone. He smashed Yokohama’s nose in, and the fight pretty much became a no-holds-barred scuffle from there.
In the end, the three third-years knocked him out, and he missed afternoon classes. Not like he had actually been planning to go anyway, but having to admit that he couldn’t move even if he wanted to was a lot more annoying. They’d finally seemed satisfied when Takaya had gone down and couldn’t get up again, and had quickly disappeared down the stairs with a few self-aggrandizing taunts.
He’d been lying on the concrete since then—how long had it been, anyway?
Careful of his aching body, Takaya rolled onto his back and looked up at the brilliant blue winter sky. His lips were cut and swollen. The sharp pain from a touch made him moan involuntarily. He seemed to have a broken bone or two somewhere as well, but for the time being it was easier not to move.
(Assholes...)
Punks who didn’t have the guts to go one on one, but thought they were all that because they fought in a group. He wondered angrily why he had to end up as the punching bag for losers like that.
And Kayama was no better. When the brawl had turned into a simple beating, he’d tried to step in, but had turned tail when he’d thought that he might be associated with Takaya. He didn’t want Yokomori’s attention on him.
(That’s how it is.)
They wanted other people to do their dirty work, and pretended ignorance and stayed far away at the first sign of danger. At that moment Takaya was madder at Kayama than at Yokomori and company.
So. He couldn’t hope for anything from anyone. He couldn’t trust anyone. The best he could ask for was for enemies who openly declared themselves his enemies. More dangerous were those who pretended to be his friends while actually waiting for an opportunity to stab him in the back.
(Like I’m gonna let myself be used by the likes of you.)
He glared into the sky, his entire body rigid as a blade. Trust no one... He had to regard kindness with suspicion... He would figure out their true intentions before he could be used by them. Those scheming bastards—
(I’ll never give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry at their betrayal...)
He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth against a pain that went all the way to the bone, alone there on the cold concrete above the cheerful shouts of the students in the school below.
“O-Onii-chan...!”
Ten days or so later, Miya shot out of the stairwell of their apartment building at the sight of her brother and came running over.
“Miya...”
“Onii-chan, where have you been? What’ve you been doing?!” Miya half-sobbed, clinging to Takaya. Takaya had left after entrusting Miya to their neighbor. Though he’d been back several times during the day while his father was away, he hadn’t seen Miya, who’d been off at school.
“Miya. Is the old man home?”
“No. He’s not back yet. ...But...” How forlorn she must have felt to be left all alone. Miya clung to Takaya and refused to let go.
“Tell Sakurai-san thank-you for me. They’ve taken a lot of trouble to look after you. I have to pay them for food...”
“Onii-chan, are you coming back?”
Takaya grimaced a little. “...Has the old man quieted down a bit yet?”
“Not...really... At night he drinks and then I think he gets bad again...”
“... I see.”
He had probably already clean forgotten that he was Takaya and Miya’s father. Sighing deeply, Takaya paid a visit to the Sakurais, the neighbors who had taken Miya in.
Mrs. Sakurai, shocked by the cuts on Takaya’s face, immediately shooed him into the house and tended to them.
“Well, at night when Ougi-san has had too much to drink, he comes to the front door and starts yelling ‘give my children back to me!’” she told Takaya as she cut some gauze. She frowned towards their apartment, looking truly troubled. “But even so, if we returned Miya-chan now, we don’t know what he’ll do to her. That’s why no matter how much noise he makes, we’ve refused to send her back. We thought that we’d wait him out until he got tired of it and settled down...”
Feeling the weight of the blame on his own shoulders, Takaya bit his lip. He couldn’t stand the thought of putting his neighbors through so much trouble.
“I’m really...really sorry.”
“This is not at all something you should be apologizing for. You and Miya-chan are the victims here...” Mrs. Sakurai said, peering at Takaya worriedly. “So how are you getting by, Takaya-kun? You haven’t been home, right?”
“I...”
He was at a loss for an answer. Miya stared at him. She must be more worried about him than anyone.
“I’m staying at a friend’s house,” Takaya reluctantly lied. He didn’t want to add to their worries.
“If you’re concerned about being a burden, don’t be. Miya-chan is lonely by herself, too. Wouldn’t it be better for you to come stay with her...?”
“...”
He knew that Miya desperately wanted him to agree. But the Sakurai household had three children of its own. To take in Miya alone was enough of a burden on them, and he couldn’t add himself to that list. —And...
In the end, she must consider them nuisances, Takaya thought, and braced himself. He couldn’t look to his kin for help. He couldn’t add to other people’s troubles.
So he only begged earnestly, “Please...look after Miya a little longer.”
But Mrs. Sakurai, concerned about the situation, suggested that he go see someone from the Family Court. One of its counselors had mediated their parents’ divorce; perhaps he could be of help...
He couldn’t afford to get his hopes up, Takaya thought. He truly believed that killing his father was the only way to resolve the situation. The trouble he was putting these people through only confirmed that conclusion in Takaya’s mind.
(If I’d done it that night...)
But he hadn’t, and could only regret that fact. The face of the one who had gotten in his way appeared in the back of his mind.
(Narita—...)
Mortification filled him every time he thought back on it. If he hadn’t allowed himself to be shaken like that—
He couldn’t just leave things as they were, he thought, clenching his fists. Once he had settled everything, he would use any means at his disposal to extract retribution.
First his father. Then...
“Onii-chan, are you leaving?”
Since his father was not at home, Takaya took the opportunity to change. A despondent Miya followed him out. Mrs. Sakurai had insisted that he eat with them, but Takaya had left before she could suggest that he stay the night. If he remained too long he was afraid that he would give in to her kindness.
“I can’t be a burden on Sakurai-san. Don’t you act spoiled either.”
“No! I’m going with you! I’m going with you to your friend’s house!”
“Don’t be silly.”
“No! I want to be with you!”
“Miya!”
Miya clung to Takaya and rubbed her face fretfully against him, her braids swinging behind her. It’d been so long since he had seen her smile; he felt as if all he saw these days were her tears. More than anything, he didn’t want his sister to be so desperately sad.
Takaya gently pulled away from Miya and crouched down to peer into her face.
“I’ll definitely come back for you. ...Be patient. I’ll definitely come back...”
“Onii-chan...”
“You’re a strong girl, right?” he said with a smile, gently patting Miya’s red cheeks. Miya’s face contorted again. Takaya did his best to cheer her up. “So don’t cry anymore, okay?”
Takaya stood and turned to the dark night street as the cold north wind lifted his coat. That was when he noticed the silhouette standing beneath a street light just ahead. He squinted. When he recognized the face, it startled him so much that for a moment he was speechless.
“You...”
Takaya bit off the muttered word. The one standing there was Narita Yuzuru.
“Narita. Why are you...?”
Yuzuru, perhaps on his way home after club activities, was still in school uniform. He seemed to have been waiting for Takaya. Before Yuzuru could say anything, Miya turned to him and asked, “Onii-chan, is that the friend you were talking about...?”
“Huh? Ah, yeah...” he quickly replied.
Miya had never met Yuzuru before. She stared at him, then stepped up to him and looked up again cautiously. After a moment, she bowed.
“Thank you for looking after my brother. I’m sorry for the trouble, but please continue to do so.”
Yuzuru looked blankly at Miya for a second, but answered the very serious expression on her face with a gentle smile.
“... I will.”
Miya, comforted by Yuzuru’s ingenuous smile, finally responded in kind. Takaya, on the other hand, was startled. Here was the smile that had been missing from Miya’s face for so long.
After Miya had gone back into the building, Takaya finally demanded, “What did you come here for?”
Yuzuru tensed at Takaya’s tone. He searched for words for a moment, not really knowing how to talk to Takaya. He finally answered, “I was wondering...what happened afterwards...”
“...”
He must have looked up Takaya’s address. Wariness filled Takaya again as he remembered that night.
“Why’re you stalking me? What the hell are you planning? Are you Oonuki’s stooge or something? What did he tell you? Did he send you to get me? Or are you looking for my weak points so you can rat me out to him?”
“No!” Yuzuru denied flatly, violently. Takaya continued to glare at him sullenly. Yuzuru’s eyes were firm on his face, even steadier than before.
“Oonuki is a coward, and I don’t like him.”
“...”
Yuzuru’s frankness startled him again. But he couldn’t let down his guard. His unwavering glare seemed to shake Yuzuru slightly.
“Ah... That’s why, I...”
Takaya faced Yuzuru with all the wariness and alertness of a wild animal raising its hackles at the sight of a stranger. Yuzuru flinched, but screwed up his courage to ask, “Where are you planning to go?”
“What?”
“The truth is that you don’t have anywhere to stay, right? You don’t have a quiet place to spend the night?”
“...”
“Why don’t you come to my house?”
He was surprised yet again. Those words had come from so far out in left field that for a moment Takaya couldn’t even grasp their meaning. But Yuzuru had said them solemnly, without a hint of mockery. His voice strengthened even further.
“I’ve heard the rumors. That you can’t go home, so you’re just drifting. If you don’t have anywhere to go, then come to my house. You can stay as long as you want, until things settle down. It’s better if you don’t have to keep wandering around, right? So come stay at my house. You can act like it’s your own place. I haven’t asked my parents yet, but I think it’ll be okay if we explained. I’ll persuade them, so...”
He couldn’t understand why Yuzuru was saying all this. He... Takaya thought, eyes sharpening. (Does he pity me or something?)
He glared at Yuzuru with open hostility. —That’s total bullshit.
“Fuck off.”
“Ougi?”
“I’m not so down in the dumps that I need your pity. So you wanna meddle in other people’s lives ’cause you’re rich? What a lucky kid.”
Yuzuru rocked back, shocked. Takaya’s eyes glittered with rage. “Just looking at your face pisses me off. Get lost, or I’ll really let loose.”
There was fear on Yuzuru’s face. Kayama must’ve been imagining things. Push enough, and he shut right up. Takaya snorted a laugh before walking away.
“Rich brats like you should keep to your own crowd. Don’t act like you’re better than me, kid,” Takaya said into Yuzuru’s ear as he slipped past and headed down the street. Yuzuru took two, three steps after him, but could follow no further at the violent rejection written so plainly on Takaya’s back.
The cold wintry wind swirled through the space between them.
He couldn’t fathom Yuzuru’s real motives at all.
He’d been thinking about it since earlier, face filled with doubt. Having no place else to go, he had returned to Mitsui’s hangout. But as usual he was smoking alone outside, sitting on a box beneath the tiny naked light bulb behind the garage where the raw materials were stored.
(Why did he say stuff like that to me?)
To me?
If he’d been trying to meddle, then he really didn’t know anything about the world. Would you normally say “come stay with me” to someone from a completely different world? Did people like that really exist? Takaya could only conclude that Yuzuru had been making fun of him. The honors student type was frequently insensitive, and clueless about how much they rubbed others the wrong way.
(What a stupid guy...)
He glared past the brim of the hat covering his eyes at nothing. At that moment, the garage’s back door opened, and light from within streamed past Takaya’s foot.
“So you came back after all—”
He looked up at the voice, and Mitsui stepped outside.
“—just like a stray dog.”
He shut the door on the laughing voices inside.
“I ain’t feeding you.”
“...”
Takaya shot him an apathetic glare before pulling the hat back down over his eyes. Mitsui laughed at him. He produced a small polyethylene bag and held it up in front of Takaya. The bag contained a white powder.
“What’s that?”
“The stuff I mentioned the other day.”
Mitsui put it back into his pocket and took out a thin syringe in a small case instead.
“This is one dose.”
“Is that...”
“The good stuff. I got some from a dealer the other day. This one’s on me, so you don’t even need to pay me for it.”
Takaya gazed at the syringe expressionlessly. He looked away without interest.
“Not in the mood right now.”
“Humph. Lost your nerve?”
Takaya looked up, eyes flashing. Mitsui smiled thinly and placed the syringe in its case beside him.
“Who gave you that cut on your face?”
“None of your business.”
“Yokomori and his lot, huh?” Mitsui had already figured it out. Takaya looked at him coldly, but Misui gave a low chuckle. “Those cowards are no better than frogs in a well. And you’re you. They can’t shut you up.”
“I told you it’s none of your fucking business.”
Mitsui blinked and looked back at him. Takaya growling warningly, “Stop sticking your nose into everything, Mitsui. Those guys aren’t worth retaliation from you. I’ll crush them myself. I’m not gonna let you interfere.”
He didn’t want Mitsui to think he was asking for help. He couldn’t bear having people think that he was hanging around Mitsui for his protection.
“So don’t you do anything to them.”
“... So you’re giving me orders now? You’re getting worse and worse, little boy.”
Mitsui’s sharp fox-eyes narrowed with unique ferocity as one corner of his lips curved up.
“...!”
Takaya involuntarily retreated before Mitsui’s transformation. There was true viciousness in Mitsui’s eyes, and he realized now how similar it was to a desire for blood. It intimidated him. Takaya was no match for this terrifying Mitsui, whose intensity was enough to freeze Takaya in his place.
“Why would I waste you on them? I’ve got guys who’ll kill anybody with a single word from me. And not just here—in prison, too. So I’m the only one you should lower your head to. D’you know how many hundreds a single command from me could move?”
“You making fun of me? You can threaten me all you want for all the difference it makes to me!”
There was a quiver in Takaya’s voice, despite his bravado. The corners of Mitsui’s lips twisted into an ugly sneer at Takaya’s fear.
“Oh, you’re one audacious kid. Nobody’s ever talked back to me like you. I totally get why Yokomori and his lot are pissed at you. You even manage to get my blood boiling sometimes, and I’m as laid-back as they come. —But you know, Ougi, to get by in this world, sometimes you have to know when enough is enough and show some respect to your elders. So I should probably teach you some manners.”
The viciousness in Mitsui’s thin smile was quite ominous enough to terrify Takaya. He tensed unconsciously.
“So I suppose you’ll tell me this’ll be for my own good?”
“If you don’t learn what I wanna teach you, then I’ll just have to pound it into your body.”
Takaya backed into the wall. Mitsui flipped off his cap with the back of his knife, then seized Takaya’s hair in one hand and pinned Takaya’s terrified eyes with a gimlet stare.
“Time to say ‘uncle’, Ougi.”
“...”
“Tell me you’ll never talk back to me again. Tell me you’ll jump at my every command. You’ll use an honorific with my name and bow your head to me.”
Takaya was petrified by the cruelty in Mitsui’s voice, by the knowledge that this was an opponent against whom he had no chance of winning. To refuse would probably be the same as signing his own death warrant. But even as he shook in terror, his eyes stubbornly resisted Mitsui’s command. A resistance for which he put his life on the line.
Mitsui muttered to himself as his gaze bore into Takaya, “...You remind me of someone.”
Then he bent and touched his lips to the nape of Takaya’s neck. Takaya gasped and tried to twist away, but the grip in his hair kept him from moving. He gritted his teeth against the sensation of Mitsui’s tongue licking a trail down his neck.
“..You...asshole...”
He thrust Mitsui back with all his might. Mitsui crashed into the pile of boxes behind him and fell to the ground. He glared back at Takaya, panting.
Takaya, his own breaths wild, snarled at Mitsui like a feral, cornered animal, a beast which would sink its teeth into the throat of any who dared take a single step towards him.
“...I’m gonna beat you to a pulp,” Takaya growled softly, his eyes filled with killing rage. “I’m gonna kill you...!”
“Go ahead and try it, punk,” Mitsui’s usual savage smile appeared on his face. “And we’ll see who gets killed.”
Mitsui jeered at Takaya’s wordless growl and swayed to his feet. Takaya froze for an instant. Mitsui took the syringe from the case on top of the wooden box and approached Takaya, driving him back.
“Wh...what are you doing...”
His back hit the wall. He could see the fiendish light in Mitsui’s eyes.
“!”
He wanted to run, but he had nowhere to go. Mitsui grabbed his arms and pinned them back, throwing him face-down on the ground with a knee against his back. He struggled wildly, but Mitsui had the build and strength of an adult, and Takaya, still a junior high student, was completely overmatched.
“Let go of me...! Let me go...!”
One knee pressed hard against Takaya’s lungs, and he gasped painfully for breath. He struggled violently as Mitsui tore his coat off his shoulders, then pulled up a sleeve to reveal his bare arm. The glint of the needle flashed across Takaya’s eyes as they glared fiercely up at Mitsui. —Overwhelming terror assaulted him.
“Stop it...!”
“I’ll pull you down,” Mitsui whispered demonically, breathing raggedly. “—I’ll make you a good little boy, no matter how many times I have to do this. You alone...”
“...!”
“So shatter into pieces.”
Mitsui held Takaya’s flailing arms down with terrible strength as he brought the syringe closer. “No!” Takaya screamed over and over again, his voice barely recognizable as a voice. But no matter how hard he struggled, he was no match for Mitsui.
He had to get away! Now, right now, he had to...!
Trapped, choking with the painful pressure against his lungs, Takaya mustered the last of his strength to cry out, “Stop it! Mitsui!”