to avenge the sun (haikyuu)

our end, together

"Come on, let's go," the helpful man waved Fujiwara along, "it's just right around here, a ten minutes walk top. Your parents must be worried, it's getting quite late. You don't have your phone on you? You shouldn't make them worry too much."

"Ah, my phone died, so that's why I've been a little lost. We just moved here."

The man just nodded and they fell into silence. Fujiwara was waiting for the right moment, the seconds itching closer. He saw his opportunity when the street was clear and to the right of them, there was an upcoming dark alley. The moon covered by clouds casted shadows, setting the perfect atmosphere for him to strike.

A sharp and strong jab against the side of his stomach made the man grunt and double over. Fujiwara lifted his leg and forcefully kicked him into the alley. He stumbled and tripped on his foot, landing sprawled on the dirty floor.

"Wha-"

Two hard punches to his shocked face silenced him, only coaxing groans.

"Shut it," his tone cold and devoid of emotion. The change in his demeanor made the poor man confused. Fujiwara took masking tape out of his pocket and quickly taped his mouth shut. He then moved on to his hands, taping them behind.

As soon as his rough manhandling ended, he grabbed his leg and dragged him into the first door he sees, uncaring of his head that was scraping on the rough ground. The man struggled along the way but it was no use. Fujiwara's hold was tight and iron-like. He led them into a musty storage room that was cramped with boxes and chairs at the side. He shut the door close, leaving only the dim light from outside to illuminate them.

Fujiwara shakily took out his pocketknife. He paused to shut his eyes and take a few deep breaths.

I need to calm down. I shouldn't be too hasty. Or my fun will end too soon.

When he opened his eyes, he found the face of a man who knew he was going to die. It was one of confusion, of pain, but also one who had accepted his fate. Fujiwara bent down and lightly slapped his face a few times, just to acknowledge that he understands that his mind must be spiraling with questions of why, who, how, and why here?

How pitiful is it to die smelling like piss in some dark alley?

"Don't worry," he started carving through the flesh around his ankles, giving him no way to escape. The man started to scream behind his taped mouth, thrashing as he did so.

"I have school tomorrow morning," he continued as warm blood ran down his gloved hands, "so I won't take too long."

Once satisfied that he was immobile, Fujiwara buried the knife at the side of his torso and left it there. He stood up and took in the scene. The man was shivering uncontrollably. His oily hair matted on his sweaty forehead as his eyes wildly begged him to stop. To let him live. To take out the knife. Blood was slowly seeping from his taped mouth, joining the many stains on his tattered shirt.

A smile started to spread as he embraced such a familiar sight. The tension was leaving his shoulders, and his scattered mind was clearing. Hearing the muffled panting, and watching the life seep from his body was a powerful feeling.

He almost felt right at home.

Fujiwara sent a heavy kick to his gut and savored the gush of blood that flowed from the buried knife and taped mouth. The man had his eyes closed as he tried to grit his way through the pain.

Another heavy kick.

"Don't tell me that hurt," he goaded. The man's scream became panicked as his entire being was wrenched into a world of misery, "I barely touched you."