Memory Stained Bitterness

"Kyoki, why?! WHY!?"

The man sprinted through a dimly lit hallway, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Occasional stumbles to the floor left a hand-stained red on the spot. "L-Leave me alone!"

He discovered a room and burst through it with his shoulder, "ack!" He groaned in pain but swiftly closed the door. Grabbing a chair, he barricaded it. "Ugh!" He collapsed to the floor.

The left eye, sealed in pain, leaked crimson trails, narrating a tale of violence. A subtle, yet profound limp adorned his right leg, evidence of a bullet's unwelcome visitation.

Then, a bang on the door. "Stop Kyoki!" Another bang, "I won't tell anybody I promise! Please! I'll act like I never saw, okay!?"

He looked around the room.

No windows.

"No, no, no, no, no!"

The door erupted with a sudden, thunderous force, crushing the chair beneath its wrath. "No, wait!" He frantically sought refuge in a corner, only to be ensnared by his own puddle of crimson despair.

Kyoki walked up to him, a pistol in hand, and said, "This was going to happen either way."

"NO! I won't t-tell Shinichiro, okay?! Okay!? I promise, I'll-I'll just leave!" He pleaded, his hands covering his face as he kneeled.

"..." Kyoki held the gun over the man's hand. 

"Don't do it! I won't bother you, man! Please, just let me li-"

BANG!

**************

He opened his eyes.

Relaxed in his office chair, hair propped above his brow, he absorbed the panoramic view beyond the window. Windswept currents cradled his building, while birds danced in liberated joy, painting a living canvas in the expansive sky. Below, rooftops unfolded like a cascading tapestry, harmonizing with the city's pulse.

He was holding something in his hands.

Within an antique frame's weathered arms, a faded photograph bore witness to the gentle erosion of years. Vibrant hues gracefully yielded to time, merging into a harmonious tapestry of softened tones. Sepia-tinged memories, delicately woven into aged paper, recounted a distant era. Now, only the outline of his childhood silhouette lingered, a poignant echo of the past.

Kyoki never looked to the past nor the present. But the future. 

The photograph was simply a reminder of his ambitions.

"Boss, we sent the boy home." Said the person who Kyoki told to bring the girl back. Nakamura Ryo was his name.

"Well done," Kyoki responded with pursed lips, continuing, "Is his friend here, though?"

"Yes, boss. I was hoping you could give me your next directive on where to hide her."

"Take her to the safehouse where Ren is. That boy is lonely. What better company than a girl around his own age?"

"Some would say that's actually bad company, sir."

"Is that so?" Kyoki sighed, seemingly unfazed, "whether true or not, it's advantageous for us to have her stay there. Ren can keep an eye on her."

With a deliberate motion, he unlatched the middle drawer and carelessly deposited the picture within its empty confines. A solitary occupant in the drawer's vacancy. "You may leave," he intoned, his hand gesturing towards the elevator.

The man left, and after a few seconds, Kyoki stood up and walked out of his office. He looked at the room before him, the same as always. Some of the desks had computers sat on top of them, but dust continued to collect. "I'll need to hire some cleaners."

He turned the corner and opened the door to the stairs. He only walked up one floor before entering it. 

A library.

It was a sanctuary of knowledge, a vast expanse of hallowed halls and towering shelves that seemed to reach for the heavens. The scent of ancient paper and leather bindings hung in the air, creating an atmosphere of intellectual reverence. As the soft glow of antique lamps cast a warm radiance, the library revealed its timeless charm.

The shelves, lined with books of every size and color, stood like sentinels guarding the accumulated wisdom of centuries. Dust particles danced in the slivers of sunlight that filtered through the tall, arched windows adorned with intricate stained glass. Each aisle beckoned with the promise of discovery, its labyrinthine layout inviting exploration.

And the windows were coated in an opaque tint, shielding the interior from prying eyes.

Many thought it was weird that the boss wouldn't have put his office on the top floor, but the library took up the last few floors. If you continued taking the stairs, you'd just find yourself on another level. 

The books were all things Kyoki had read. Thousands of books. Nobody cleaned them, only he did.

During his free time, he would always read books.

He had a knack for it. The ability to process information was something he exceled at. 

Immersed in a sea of literature, he occasionally revisits titles, savoring even the faintest recollections. The first floor, an untouched expanse, holds the promise of unexplored narratives, waiting patiently for his curious gaze.

"Now then, what should I read today?"

****************

Inside the Hommoku Area, Remi occupied the driver's seat, and Hiroki, the passengers. The van idled outside a business—a two-story edifice with only the ground floor accessible to patrons. The stillness held a story of its own as they observed the quiet exterior.

In between the two levels there was a striking yellow banner adorned with red letters.

ワサビウィスク

Wasabi Whisk.

"Just like last time, okay? You don't want to disappoint Kyoki now." Remi handed him a bat, "ready?"

Hiroki had gathered his hair in a man bun, his auburn locks adding a touch of warmth to his overall appearance whilst his neck tattoo was covered by his jacket. Next to Remi, there was a slight stoop in his posture, making him slightly shorter in stature.

"Yeah...I got it."

Remi grinned and said, "good." The two of them stepped out and went into the restaurant. Hiroki entered first and said, "where the fuck is the owner!?"

An abrupt disruption echoed through the dining space as patrons hastily abandoned their meals or remained frozen. Amidst the shifting scene, a lone figure approached Remi and Hiroki, offering a careful reminder, "this isn't a playground, young one. The adults are eating."

"Yeah, well eat this!" Hiroki violently swung the bat, aiming for impact, decking the old man on the side of his body. Collapsing in agony, he clutched his side as if trying to contain the pain. "And here's another one!" Hiroki slammed his bat into the man's face. His nose began to contort in different directions and his teeth were getting shattered.

"WHOOO!" Hiroki brushed his hair back and jumped over the counter. He entered the kitchen, "stop hiding and just pay up! It's protection man!"

A man emerged from behind a wall in the kitchen, his hands up. "Protection? I have never been worse off since you guys entered this area."

"Just cough up the money and I'll be on my way." He held his hand out, half expecting a bag of money to just appear. The owner grabbed a knife off the wall and pointed it at Hiroki, "no more will I allow you to trample on me!" He declared, charging at Hiroki with a knife.

Hiroki's gaze snapped to his right, spotting a frying pan. In one swift motion, he seized the handle and hurled it at the owner. The target, quick on his feet, blocked with his arm. Following up, the man swung a knife horizontally, Hiroki deftly evading as he stepped back. "Close one," he uttered, poised for the next move.

Driven by the need for weaponry, Hiroki hastily grabbed objects from the counters, launching them towards the owner. The owner, displaying remarkable dexterity, effortlessly handled the impromptu assault. Discovering a freezer-like structure, Hiroki eagerly opened it, revealing neatly wrapped meats. His hands closed around one, a tangible resource in the face of an imminent encounter.

"Get over here, brat!"

Persisting in his onslaught, Hiroki unleashed a volley of thrown objects. Amid the chaos, the meat he had just grabbed landed squarely on the owner's face. Seizing the moment of disorientation, Hiroki deftly swept the owner off his legs. A cry of "Ough!" echoed as the owner dropped his knife, signaling a temporary shift in the tide as he tumbled down.

With his bat held high, Hiroki executed erratic swings, the disconcerting crunches punctuating the air. The atmosphere grew tense with each strike. "Where!" Another demanding swing emphasized his inquiry. "Is the money!?"

"It's in my office! Under my desk!" He let out, pointing to the hallway he emerged from earlier.

He began to crawl away, "I got it!" Remi exclaimed, headed to where he pointed.

Hiroki stood on top of the man's leg to stop him from moving. And after a few seconds, Remi came back out with a small bag of money.

He kicked the owner in the face and said, "It's only a hundred-thousand-yen, man!" He judged the owner.

"Pleasure doing business!" Remi giggled as her and Hiroki left.

Back in the car, Hiroki looked at his bat, which had been painted in red, "uh, where should I put this?" He asked.

"Hold onto it and bring it to Kyoki."

She pulled off the sidewalk and heard sirens. 

"Shouldn't you be going faster?"

"It's just a few coppers, kid."

"Is that not a big deal!?"

She cackled and said, "not when you grease their palms!"