to avenge the sun (haikyuu)

on to the second

Fujiwara was in pain.

He had pulled out the knife, screaming in continuous agony, as he quickly threw it aside in brusque anger. It slid beside the dead body. He had then crawled to the tool table and taken a soft cloth to wrap around his waist and the gaping wound. A few rounds of masking tape to tightly hold it in place ensured some kind of mobility.

But he was definitely in all-consuming pain.

He was slumped on the floor, breathing deeply, trying to collect himself. His eyes were closed but his mind was running with wild thoughts and plans. In the end, he decided to literally break down their door and complete the one thing he truly wanted to do from their years apart.

Fujiwara couldn't care less about the consequences anymore.

His phone rang yet again, no doubt it being Takeshi. But when he saw the caller ID, he realized that it was his father. He quickly answered it.

"Father?" He greeted him questioningly.

"Takeshi called," his father started, making Fujiwara roll his eyes, "my private ambulance is on its way. You be a good boy and sit tight."

"But Father-"

"No," he cut him off, "this isn't an argument. This is me telling you what to do and you do it. I just lost your mother and I can't lose you too. You know what that would do to me."

That silenced Fujiwara. It was not an everyday occurrence where his father would openly express his love and care for him. He had to admit he was shocked. But that wasn't going to stop him.

He was too close to willingly let it go.

"Okay, Father," he finally said with a relenting sigh, anything to cut this call off quickly, "I'll be here."

He heard a deep hum in approval, "you better be Kenji. No tricks. I'll see you at our hospital."

And with that, the phone call ended. Fujiwara immediately stood up, using the wall to help him do so. He was already panting from the effort. Fujiwara slipped on his usual black latex gloves and wildly looked around for what to bring with him. He settled for the masking tape, pocket knife, and the bucket that was still filled with the stale blood of the poor dead man. He poured it out and watched the blood crawl to the drain for a moment before pocketing his phone and knife and slowly making his way to his car.

The drive back to the dorms was a blurry half an hour. Halfway through his journey, he received a phone call. He was sure that his father was very much pissed at him for not staying put.

So he put his phone on silent and did not answer the call.

When he arrived, he found the dorms to be eerily quiet. The cafes and small shops were closed. The corridor was slightly dim. It was as if they knew the sin that Fujiwara was about to commit. He quickly took the stairs to Hinata's apartment, wincing slightly at every step. But he stubbornly trudged on.

And finally, he was at his door.

Finally.

He took a few deep breaths before trying to open their door. It was unlocked. Someone must have forgotten to check.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He entered noiselessly, bucket and masking tape at hand. It was past 3 am. There was no sound. Everyone was fast asleep.

The apartment was dark, Fujiwara could only see the blinking street lights from the living room window. The design of the apartment was similar, the only aspect that set it apart was the location of the dining table and the mess that was their couch.