Another one dead. Shinji
sighed as he tossed the rain-slick helmet onto the chest at the end of his bed and
stripped out of his dripping wet trenchcoat.
Dammit. His fingers brushed over the
bloodstains on his fine linen shirt, bursts of red blooming against the crisp white
fabric. It's going to take hell to get that out; when will I learn? He sighed again
as he lifted slender fingers to the buttons of the blouse, his skin so pale that it almost
blended in with the fabric as he deftly slipped the buttons apart. I might as well just
throw the damned thing away, he thought as he jerked the shirt from his body with
sharp, angry movements that caused the Berettas holstered at his hips to rattle.
Machine guns and motorcylces. The thought
crossed his mind absently as he unbuckled the gunbelt, tossing it carelessly on the bed,
stepping away from the weapons in unconscious distaste as he made his way into the
bathroom, his fingers aimlessly scrubbing at the pink tints on his lily-pale skin where
the blood had soaked through. Just like a fuckin' movie, was his next bitter
thought as he reached for a towel and turned the water on in the sink, letting the warm
liquid flow over the lush, thick nap of the cloth.
He still hadn't done his homework. How
ironic....he had just killed a man and he was worried about his homework. At least he
hadn't gotten blood on his school uniform again; last time it had cost him a pretty penny
to have it professionally cleaned. Then again, it wasn't as if money was any
consideration....
He wondered what his classmates at Tokyo Daigaku
would say if they knew how he paid for this expensive apartment, the high-tech motorcycle
outside, his elegant clothing....everything. What they would think if they knew that after
he left the campus of the private university, he exchanged his pencils and schoolbooks for
automatic weapons and angry gang members....a whole other life that they would never guess
at. Who would ever think that adorable, funny Shinji Nagamo was leader of the feared Fungai.
Grey eyes flashed in irritation, reflected back
in broken shards from the bathroom mirror's depths as Shinji swiped absently at his lean
chest, the towel passing over compact muscles taut beneath sleek, unmarred skin. I am
so fucking tired of this. Tired of being this. He couldn't remember a time when
he hadn't killed, hadn't lived on the streets....hadn't been an adult, an adult constantly
at war with the Yakuza in a never-ending battle to claim the streets of Tokyo. I
wonder what it would have been like....to be a boy for a while. Just a while...
He could....take a break. With Tensetsu
dead....the Yakuza wouldn't be a problem for a while. He could relax....go to
school....do all of the things that a normal boy would do. A smile nearly broke out across
his thin lips, and as he turned away from the mirror he was caught by his own
reflection....as though a different person stared back at him, someone lively and bright
that he knew but didn't know....someone that he could have been, if things had turned out
differently.
So let them be different, he thought
sharply as he headed towards his closet, snagging the nearest clean garments that came to
hand and jerking them from the hanger--his school uniform, which would do for now. What
was there to stop him from going out and simply...living? Exploring, at least. That...odd
place....what was it called? Ayenee, he thought....it bordered on Tokyo, and with all of
the strange creatures there he could surely find something to hold his interest.
Ayenee, then, he thought as he stripped
out of his usual black silk slacks and slipped on the stiffly starched uniform pants. Let's
see what happens.
Ten minutes found him on the road again, the
Honda CBR1100XX between his legs humming serenely and his oversized, ill-fitting black
trenchcoat fluttering like dark wings behind him as he pushed the sleek bike to dangerous
speeds, weaving in and out of the traffic like a fish slipping through water....and to
hell with the cops. The vehicular throng petered out quickly as he swerved onto the
off-ramp out of the city, however....and by the time that the paved, well-kept road faded
into a wide, worn dirt pathway, Shinji was fully alone.
He heard the tavern before he saw it....shouting,
laughter, music, noises of boisterous revelry spilling forth from the open windows and
door, seemingly carried forth on the rays of golden lamplight that flooded from the
openings to dimly light the area around the tavern. It was still afternoon in Tokyo, but
here dusk had long settled; odd how time seemed to shift and fluctuate between the two
places....but it wasn't important.
A small sigh escaped the soft curve of Shinji's
lips as he pulled the motorcycle up outside of the tavern, letting the growling rumble of
its engine fade away to a soft purr and then die away with a faint sputter. I suppose
that this place is as good as any. Unfolding his long, lean frame from the cycle, he
lifted the helmet from his head and ran a hand through his tousled, dirty blond locks, the
silk-fine strands spilling through his hands like water and then flopping irritatingly
wherever they felt like the moment that he released them. He winced as he shrugged his
shoulders out of the coat and sore muscles protested; he felt trapped within the stiff
uniform, and felt a sudden irrational urge to just rip the damned thing off.
Instead, he simply draped his coat over the bike
and rested the helmet atop it, slipping the key from the ignition and leaving the bike
there, shrouded in the shadows; he doubted that anyone here would bother it--if they could
even figure out what it was. Pocketing the keys absently, he turned cool grey eyes upon
the door to the establishment, lowering thick, heavy lashes in a slow blink as he watched
a few others enter from his silent seclusion...humanoid in appearance, but around here who
knew....
Feh...quit stalling. It's just a tavern; there
won't be any Mafia with guns waiting inside, and it's not like you have to worry about the
cops snagging you for underage drinking. Faint amusement tinged his features as he
strode lazily towards the door; he wondered if there even was such a thing as underage
drinking in Ayenee--and if there was, even at eighteen he was probably still well beyond
the limit.
The smile was still gracing his lips as he lifted
a thin hand to push the half-closed door aside long enough for his lanky frame to slip
through--and then he could only stand there, blinking. The place was more crowded than he
could have ever believed, and the different creatures within were astounding...almost
unbelievable. People of every type conversed casually with seeming beasts over
drinks....predators abounded, and within moments he could pick out several who wouldn't
survive the night, judging from the glitter in their conversation partners' eyes.
At a loss, Shinji shoved his hands into his
pockets...suddenly shy, a strange, unfamiliar feeling. Grey eyes shifted to liquid silver,
dark iron, and then back again as he swept the room with another glance, before forcing
himself to move away from the door; people were already starting to look at him oddly, and
he didn't want to draw attention to himself.
Years of practice kept the casual smile on his
face and turned his stride into a lazy saunter as he moved towards the bar, slipping past
people with ease, an unconscious grace coloring his every movement as he managed to wedge
himself onto an empty barstool between two large, hulking men that apparently hadn't made
the acquaintance of proper hygiene in quite some time.
The barmaid took instant notice of him as he
raised a hand--a buxom girl, all curves and a sweet smile as she turned large eyes of
liquid blue upon him, lifting a hand to push her pale blonde hair from her eyes as she
bustled away to fulfill his request for sake. One side of his lips lifted, giving
his faint smile a particularly mischievous cast as he watched her leave; she reminded him
of the girls at the university, who whispered and giggled behind their hands as he passed
and watched him with appraising eyes, each of them sure that she would be the one to break
past his casual, impish friendliness and capture the heart that lay beneath.
As the man that had been flirting with the girl
farther down the bar shot him a sharp glare, Shinji nearly laughed as he was this time
reminded of the boys at his school--who either hated him for drawing such mass quantities
of female attention or idolized him and aspired to be like him, with his slender beauty
and mocking eyes that promised everything and nothing in one sultry glance. Apparently
things were the same no matter where one went.
Another laugh bubbled in his throat as the girl
returned, eyes bright and cheeks flushed as she set the small glass of sake on the
bar's surface before him, and it was only with great effort that he held it back as he
paid the wench. "Thanks, " he said, dry amusement coloring his husky voice as he
turned upon his barstool, turning his back on her and effectively, curtly dismissing her;
he could almost sense the disappointment and irritation radiating from her as he took a
small sip of his drink to stifle yet another chuckle.
He froze as he started to lower the glass from
his lips; he was being watched. He would know that familiar tingling on the back of his
neck anywhere, in any environment; someone was looking at him from somewhere in the room,
and not necessarily with friendly intent. He kept his expression calm, perhaps even merry,
as he allowed his steely gaze to sweep the room, seeking out even those shrouded in shadow
with a piercing stare--and then silver met gold, and he froze.
Molten. Liquid heat staring back at him, intense,
framed in thick, feathery black lashes, hypnotizing, compelling, the deep amber depths
seeming to bore into him for a long moment before their owner turned away and returned to
his conversation partner.
Christ. Shinji took a deep breath, not
even realizing that he had stopped breathing while trapped within that mesmerizing gaze.
It had only been a casual glance in passing but he felt shaken to the core, and he forced
himself to take another sip of his sake to soothe his rattled nerves before turning
appraising eyes on the owner of those golden eyes once more, this time distant, analytical
as he watched him engage in a seemingly serious discussion with the other man.
The first thing that caught his attention was his
hair; anyone in their right minds would be fascinated by the thick mass of glossy black
that framed his pale, almost angelic face and spilled in luxuriant abundance down his back
and over his white robes. Shinji would have called him handsome, but the word was
inadequate for the young man; he was, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature that
the boy had ever seen--as slender as Shinji himself, but not quite as tall as his own
towering height of six feet, two inches. He would guess that he was somewhere close to his
own age, perhaps a bit younger, but he seemed somehow older, his delicate features tinged
with a hint of ineffable mystery that compelled all that looked upon him to be fascinated.
No wonder he had managed to strike Shinji so with
a simple look; he actually felt lucky that the young man wasn't looking in his direction
at the moment, or he might find himself choking on his drink. Well, well, Shinji, he
thought mockingly. I think you've finally seen someone worse than you. He had to
admit--he was spellbound. It was rare that he ever saw anyone with a power to captivate
others that rivaled his own....let alone surpassed it. It wasn't his ego that made him
aware of that fact--it was utter truth; he was graceful, untouchable, a fallen angel whose
beauty burned to the touch. He supposed that the gods--or genetics--had been kind to him.
This one, however...this one was truly blessed.
Were it not for something about the way that he carried himself, Shinji would have
thought him too feminine, but there was an odd strength beneath that slim frame and pretty
face, a strength whose source the blonde boy couldn't place.
It wasn't until the luminous golden gaze turned
upon him again that he realized that he was staring--and he was shocked to feel the
unfamiliar warmth of a blush creeping over his cheeks. What power did that boy have that
he could make someone as hardened as Shinji blush? He swallowed hard as he took another
sip of his sake, staring thoughtfully into the glass until he felt the faint flush
begin to fade. This is interesting, he thought, a smile curving
his lips again; so far, he wasn't regretting his excursion away from the limits of the
city. If nothing else, he had this fascinating young angel of darkness to study, and the
smile remained upon his face as he lifted his eyes to peruse those elegantly sculpted
features once more. For a moment he had a brief thought that he could stare at that face
forever, and a fleeting curiosity passed through his mind, wondering if that glossy onyx
hair was as soft as it looked.
Down, boy. He chuckled softly to himself
as he drained the last of his sake from the glass, lowering sooty lashes to brush
death-pale cheeks as he did so. You're just here to watch, nothing more. But he
could at least indulge himself in watching....and so he did, smoky eyes half-lidded, a sly
smile curving the left side of his thin, sensuous lips as he observed the gorgeous young
man from his barstool, nearly hypnotized by his graceful movements and natural elegance.
Feh. A frown crossed his lips as he turned
to set the glass on the bar with a solid thump, and then he suddenly stood, unfolding his
lithe frame with feline ease, suppressing another wince as his narrow shoulders protested
the motion yet again and his muscles stretched taut over his wiry frame. It was time to
go--definitely. There was a line that he never crossed, and he sensed himself drawing very
close to the edge as he continued to watch the golden-eyed boy out of the corner of his
eye. Never get interested, he reminded himself almost out of habit. Distance is
the most important thing.
So why did he feel a shiver race down his spine
as he turned to pace towards the door--and how did he know that a pair of molten amber
eyes followed him like those of a hunting cat's even as he slipped out of sight?
Shinji's nerves were distinctly rattled as he
settled onto his bike once more, and it was with relief that he jammed the gleaming black
helmet over his head and kicked the cycle into life, the mechanical beast roaring beneath
him and tearing away from the tavern in a shower of dirt. Speed....that was what he
needed; speed, the wash of the wind to cool the warm flush rising once more in his cheeks,
the rush of controlling the massive power in the grumbling machine clasped between his
thighs.
The machine snarled beneath him as he raced onto
the Tokyo freeway, darting through the flow of traffic at highly illegal speeds, a savage
joy building in his body as he guided the Honda around the hulking masses of dead metal
that were the other vehicles. Laughing wildly, he ripped his helmet off and let the wind
stream through his blonde hair, spiking it almost straight upwards as he let the black
shell dangle from his free hand, levering his slender frame upwards so that he was almost
standing on the titanium-colored machine...lost to all but the primal rush of his wild,
unchecked ride through the city.
He reached his apartment building all too
quickly, and it was with some reluctance that he guided the sleek motorcycle into its
appointed place, the slot marked out with his apartment number, 8-C. Still, he felt much
better as he dismounted, sparing only a few moments to lock the bike's wheels and chain
its frame to a nearby pole before he turned away, long strides carrying him into the
building's lobby and into the elevator; out of habit he drew his swirling coat about his
body, although for once he had nothing hidden within it.
Within five minutes he was locked safely within
his own apartment, stripping quickly out of the uncomfortable uniform and dropping onto
the edge of his bed with a weary sigh, a slight shiver passing through his nude frame
before he shifted to slide his long legs beneath the sheets. That was an interesting
momentary diversion, he thought as he laid back, running his fingers through his hair
out of pure habit and exhaling another sigh as he felt himself starting to drift into
sleep already. But...I don't think I'll be going back there.
He was wrong.
The school bell the next afternoon found him
tearing out of the classroom, vaulting over the stair rail from the second floor and
dropping to the first floor lobby in a smooth movement, eager to be away from the confines
of the university and out on the street. He leaped onto his bike, and was barely settled
on the seat before he was ripping from the parking lot and out onto the freeway. Tearing
along the cement, he lifted one hand to jerk the top button of his uniform open as he
vaulted the motorcycle over the off-ramp rather than down it, landing in a fish-tailing
skid on the dirt pathway below and tearing with a mechanical roar back into Ayenee.
He didn't know what compelled him to return to
the place, but he simply had to go back--there was something about the place that
suited him, a wild freedom that he had to explore...somewhere where he could relax without
school, without the Yakuza, without the Fungai.
This time he took a different pathway, to another
tavern, farther away from the main dirt-packed road and certain to be less crowded. It was
with much more confidence and ease that he strolled into this tavern, his slender body
swaying slightly with each casual step and his hands pushed comfortably in his pockets as
he glanced around through grey eyes that sparkled with apparent mischief.
Tonight...tonight he was here to enjoy himself. Here to forget.
Nearly every eye in the room turned his way as he
sauntered towards an empty table, his book case tucked under his arm and a smile already
starting to curve his lips as he pondered the trouble that he could get into there. He had
always enjoyed "playing" with people...and here was his opportunity.
He flicked his tongue over his teeth
thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing slightly as he perused his options; at least five of the
females in the room were studying him blatantly; one tiny brunette smiled warmly at him
every time that his gaze passed her way, and he immediately dismissed her; she looked like
she had the potential to become a stalker, or at least extremely annoying. Three out of
the other four looked...dull. They wouldn't be much fun...but one girl, a redhead, looked
like she might be good for some amusement, and so when she turned a faint smile on him he
smiled in return, favoring her with a saucy wink as he made his way to an empty table,
slipping into a seat quietly.
5....4....3....2....1....and...."Hi;
mind if I have a seat?"
That was predictable. Shinji smiled up at
the girl as she stood at the edge of his table, a goblet of red wine poised in her hand.
"If you'd like." Let the games begin. He wondered if she would think that
he was flirting with her, even as his eyes roved over the room, drifting onto a tall,
handsome man with shaggy black hair and dark brown eyes. One night out of the city and
I can't keep my eyes to myself....
He barely noticed as the girl sat down, but he
smiled at her as she introduced herself as Kalika. "Shinji, " he answered in
response, noting with amusement how her eyes lit up at the sound of his low, purring
voice. "My name is Shinji." Meaningless conversation followed...she attempted to
flirt, socialize...and Shinji skillfully evaded her every attempt, baiting her, enjoying
the game of drawing her in and then stopping her dead in her tracks.
However...he grew bored after a few minutes of
the play, and began to cast about for something or someone else to entertain himself with,
his eyes narrowing to mere slits as he scanned the room...nothing else interesting
presented itself, and so he excused himself politely and stood, a faint smirk lighting his
features as he noticed her disappointment at his abrupt departure.
He had already forgotten about her by the time
that he passed through the door of the tavern, and as he mounted his bike again he
wondered if he shouldn't just go back to his apartment, do his homework, and go to sleep.
He needed to catch up on his rest anyway...but rather than turning the cycle back towards
the city, he simply guided it slowly along the path, the bike almost idling as it moved
slowly along....simply enjoying the stillness of being out in the night.
The next tavern that he approached was more
crowded than the first by far; he heard the noises from it even before he saw it, and once
it came into view the cacophony was deafening--it sounded worse than a frat party. He
parked his bike lazily, his thoughts automatically drifting back to Tokyo and the Fungai,
and he barely even saw the ground before him as he moved towards the door with his usual
lazy, fluid stride.
Only the faint whisper of rustling robes alerted
him just before he bumped into the wearer of the garments, and he abruptly pulled up short
with an automatic apology on his lips--and then froze as he found himself staring into a
pair of slightly familiar golden eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he stared down
at the beautiful young man of the evening before, and he found himself unable to speak
even the words to apologize for nearly bumping into him.
"Greetings, " the other boy said, his
smooth voice a thrill to hear, and Shinji found himself utterly captivated once again.
Snap out of it, Shinji. Now is not the time to
get all starry-eyed. Remember distance. He took a deep breath, forcing the strange
flutterings in his stomach aside, and managed to bring a rakish half-smile to his lips,
his eyes twinkling with silvery humor as he said quite simply, "Hi."
The softness of a smile, polite, distant, touched
the other's lips, and Shinji found himself distracted for a moment as that voice drifted
forth again. "I think perhaps that I saw you in the tavern last night."
"Ahh...yeah." Shinji realized that he
was staring again and averted his eyes, looking towards the door of the tavern and running
a hand through his hair nervously before he let his fingers fall to the small collar of
braided leather around his neck, his thumb drifting over the small silver spikes absently.
"You did."
He was surprised when the young man's eyes fell
upon his collar and remained there, a thoughtful look entering the liquid golden depths of
his eyes they traced over the intricately woven leather; self-consciously, Shinji dropped
his hand away from the accessory and lowered his eyes again. At the motion, the boy seemed
to jerk, snapping back to awareness, for a moment looking almost ashamed before his calm,
unruffled visage was once more in place and he turned those stunning eyes to Shinji's once
more with another of those faint smiles. "I apologize; I have not introduced myself.
I am Marron Glace." A stiff, formal bow followed, graceful and yet oh-so-polite.
Marron Glace......
