youngblood • toman (ken ryuguji)

000 | DEATH OF A PARTY GIRL

WARNINGS mentions of harsh language, death, gore and suicidal tendencies !

SPOILER WARNING FOR THIS ENTIRE STORY
as you know the plot is quite back and forth so it'll be impossible to give warnings. and i really don't want to spoil anyone, so it's up to you to read or not but the manga is suggested :D

BEST READ in dark mode !

─────────卍─────────

late autumn was always one of the most beautiful times of the year to you. the fall always held a beautiful part of your heart.

the way the maroon leaves decorated the pavements, like fallen angels. the way the rain pattered ever so gently against your back every other night. the way you'd sit along a street corner and watch on in awe of the moon exchanging places with the sun, taking rest and setting along the skyline. the peach and lilac hues of the heavens merging into the night and leaving a glow on your skin whilst you awaited the right time to return home.

your feet swung over the perimeter of the sky-scraping club building you sat upon; a supple wind catching on your skin as your fingertips gripped the edge and you peered down to the passing cars, bikes and pedestrians. oh how you missed your bike, riding through the highways, wind against your chest and the tilt of your head as you sped along the straight roads. the thrumming of the revving engine under you & the scent of spilt gasoline.

it all felt so normal.

except nothing was normal since you took up your position as an influencer. here you were with a suffocating corset ribbed around your waist, the weekly manicure reflecting moonlight and pretty piercings dotted along your ears and face. never was it ever something you wanted, nobody really knew how you ended up here, not even yourself; it was just another arbitrary effect from the clutch of your time loop.

"y/n. get going, you've got another shoot in a couple hours for the next meet... those dark circles better vanish by the end of your session, or else there'll be trouble for you." a foot in your back snapped you awake. damned manager of yours was always on your ass. "and clean up your look, you look horrendous. what if the paparazzi caught you like that?"

"i'm only 20-fuckin'-6, can i not have at least one day to myself, hanma?" you groaned, turning your head to the opposite direction.

"you're only 26 and you're a star, my dear." he squatted beside you and threw an arm around your neck, an aura of aftershave surrounding you, and his breath glazing over your ear smelling like expensive mint tea. "don't fuck this chance up. the public love your pretty face, doll... and you i guess." a hand creeped along your forearm.

"listen to me for once in your fucking life." you snapped your arm back into your chest, "let me find takemichi, and i'll consider keeping to this contract."

"silly girl." your manager's pesteringly aristocratic accent echoed, through the ward. "the takemichi boy is long gone, and i did everything i could as your manager to ensure you would never find him again. he and hinata met a similar end." a cackle in his voice nearly pushed you off the edge, irking you in ways you never knew possible. "i know best, i always will. and for as long as i serve mr kisaki, my management will be best for you."

"you don't know shit, and you sound like a freak." your voice formed a low mumble whilst your rubbed a hand over your eyes, as you tried your best to comprehend what he had said. "you're just just some other incompetent fuck that kisaki shoves around to get his way, he doesn't care about you or me, so why exactly do you put me through all this?" hanma grimaced at your words, "please... i just want to see them again. tell me they're alive- i'll believe a picture even." you spoke just like any other foolish celebrity, stuck in the repetitive loop of a contract.

"enough excuses. get up." his hand gripped onto your forearm, clenching harder by the second as the cold feeling of a cut of blood to your limb sparked up. his fingertips clawed into your bare skin, reminding you just of the hell you were living within this stupid contract. dammit, that would be a bitch to cover for the next shoot.

your sponsor, kisaki, was a shadowed man. you hadn't met with him again in the past couple of months, nor had you wished it. all you knew was that he was even more trouble, and that for as long as you remained under his control you would be in obscure trouble. his authority was surely the reason for your best friend's disappearance, takemichi hanagaki. "you are kisaki's most prized possession, and he would burn down this entire city to keep you under him." quite literally under him, unfortunately. "and today is your lucky day, after this shoot you will be taken straight to his warehouse. mr kisaki has waited two long months to have his way with you again."

the past twelve years had been hell, there was nothing you had left to live for, besides uncovering takemichi's disappearance and the trail of deaths and suicides that followed kisaki's path, such as akkun's.

so most days you wished to be fifteen again, stealing bikes with your friends and listening to takemichi's intel on the ward's gang action. but what you never really expected was to ever be fifteen again, and now you couldn't count on your fingers and toes the number of times you had switched between the age 15 and 26.
"the only way out for you is death."

"well then... nice weather today, don't you think?" you wriggled out of your manager's grasp, glancing over the edge and feeling the breeze of the autumn wind frosting over your cheek. the scent of dry leaves gathered just over there on the rooftop, as you looked down to the ground just hundreds of metres below.
"what if i were to die on a day like this?" you muttered as you began to wonder: how hard would the impact of falling be? how quickly would you pass on into your next life?

there was truly only one way to find out, as you gave your vexatious manager a quick smile, feeling the wind flap against your back as you pushed your feet off the roof; it almost imitated the senses of your old motorbike as you fell from over 100 feet from the skys of shibuya. the cries of the public and the blaring of horns all faded out as your soared down to your death.

'see you in a bit, takemichi' you thought, the wind catching as you felt your back against concrete and the resonance of sirens painting over your eardrums. a pounding in your skull and a fading tingle in your spine. you died in irritation of all the noise, but at least you knew you had the chance to die the right way.

a hundred more times.

─────────卍─────────