Rough Hands - A T.ShigarakixReader Story

Returned.

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A/N: This chapter contains detailed mentions of violence. If you're weak stomached, sensitive to gore, or easily disturbed, please look after yourself and skip this chapter.
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A low hum of agreement comes soon after from everyone, and Nakamura smirks slightly before pushing the doors open, revealing an extremely pissed off looking Kenji pacing around the room, glaring at the floor before halting and snapping his head to move the angry look to Nakamura instead.
"Boss." Nakamura greets lazily, only to be met with a sharp look from Kenji that you had learned to be nervous of, but Nakamura seemed absolutely unaffected by.
"Have you found her?" Kenji asks, his voice dripping with anger.
"Afraid not." Nakamura replies. "Guessing she left along with the others."
You're frozen the second Kenji begins yelling at Nakamura, spittle flying through the air and landing on the carpet in various places. And you hate it. You hate this new reaction that your body had chose to use to deal with stress, and you want it to stop, but you can't tear your feet from the floor, and can't even stop the blank look of horror on your face as you stare at Kenji, his face almost becoming purple as he screams at Nakamura about his insolence.

The faint feel of Tomuras fingers grazing over the back of your hand pulls you back to reality, his red eyes seeking yours out. Silently he motions with his head towards Kenji, who's voice had begun to get louder than you'd ever thought possible, making it hard to think clearly. The slight nudge from Tomura is enough for you to give a slight nod in response to him, managing to tear your feet from the floor, despite them feeling a lot heavier than they had before entering this room.
The second you start moving, he skulks forward towards the oblivious Kenji as well, his eyes flitting between you and the raging man, who begins getting closer and closer to Nakamura, a vein growing in prominence on his forehead.
The closer you get to him, the closer your hand dips towards the sheathed knife in your pocket. Your anxiety quickly begins to wear off when you remember what you're here to do, and who you're here to do it to, your once nervous stare turning into a cold, hard pink glare at the man who had caused you so much pain and suffering in the short time you were with him. You can't imagine how much more damage the man stood before you could have done had you been stuck in his business for any longer.

Watching as Tomura readies himself near Kenji, his red eyes narrowed and the fury behind them clear to see, you think methods over silently. Initially you had moved to stab him in the back, but having given yourself some time before acting, you were now second guessing that decision. Watching as the vein grows more and more prominent in his forehead as he yells, practically jumping out of his forehead the louder his voice gets, you lunge to action, Tomuras feet spreading so he's standing in a wider stance on the off chance you need him to jump in and help, too.
A sick part inside you begins to twist in pride as you see the surprised look on his face as your body collides with his, the knife in your fist plunging into his shoulder without so much of a second thought from you. He lets out a small grunt of pain, his scarred eye wincing ever so slightly.
"What the-" He all but growls, before the back of his head collides with the ground, making his eyes roll back towards the back of his skull.

A small part of you tells you that the fact he's already out cold would make any attack you do now low hanging fruit, but a bigger part of you doesn't care. You want to hurt him, and you want to hurt him now. You make sure to land a few punches on his face while he's out, ignoring the shooting pain that jolts from your knuckles to your wrists with each time your fists make impact with his face. It takes a few punches to bring him back around, the only thing alerting you to his awakening through your mist of red being the gasping sound he releases as he comes back around, his eyes rolling from where they had been to where you straddled above him, almost as if he could see you.
You scoff as you take in the fact his eyes are still a little hazy, as though he wasn't all there still, pulling the knife that still stayed implanted in his shoulder out roughly before plunging it straight back into his chest over and over again, a grin slowly pulling at the sides of your mouth with each thump on his chest, and each wheeze that leaves him.