deciphered

the suicide plan V

Oikawa could tell it was already midnight by the sound of the boat horns going off near the Arakawa River. They always, without fail, go off into the night for about ten minutes, blasting the deep rumble throughout the night to signal off the two winding ships crossing paths within the night. That was Oikawa's own signal, and the last time he would hear them outside of his window.

Kuroo finalized the handmade blade he crafted out of the steel license plate material, turning it over again and again while touching the sharp tip. It pierced through the tough skin of his index finger, marking a small cut that oozed out a microliter of blood.

"I'm ready if you are," Kuroo nodded his head towards Oikawa, who was doing the same to his weapon of choice. The once dull steak knife was now sharpened into the most dangerous tool within the prison walls, holding the ability to kill a man.

The concrete walls now had circular and straight scratches on them, firmly indenting their last marked legacy on the prison. Oikawa blew off the dust that accumulated on his knife, wiping away any dirt left on the blade with his blanket. "I'm ready."

Kuroo nodded again, setting his blade on the futon. Simultaneously, the both of them started to take their clothes off; starting with Oikawa grabbing the back collar of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head while Kuroo began unbuttoning the front of his prison uniform.

Oikawa's irezumi tattoos glistened under the light coming out through the window, with shadows blocking his face. Kuroo noticed his muscles diminished and his ribs were visible, with scars and bruises all throughout his chest. He started to remember what he was like before entering prison compared to now, noticing the stark contrast—it baffled him of what over half a year in prison could do to someone.

Kuroo felt the warmth of the night time once he took off the top of his uniform, exposing his skin to the open air. He ran his left hand over his buzzcut, slicking back his non-existent hair. He took a deep breath, calming down the nerves that were creeping up on him. He didn't feel as nervous as he thought, as he exhausted the rest of it earlier in the day. Kuroo closed his eyes one last time before positioning himself to kneel and sit behind on his legs.

He lifted his head up, looking straight at Oikawa. "Who's first?"

"I can go." Oikawa had done the same as Kuroo; positioning himself to kneel and sit behind on his legs, his knife secured in his right hand. He looked up at him one last time with hesitation, a glimmer shining in his eye. "Call for the guards and make sure I don't bleed out."

"Trust me, I won't let that happen." Kuroo reassured, preparing his own blade in his left hand. "You can put your faith in me, we're going to get out of here."

Oikawa nodded his head one last time, holding the blade of the knife with both of his hands, pointing it straight at his stomach. His breath began to shake as he struggled to control his grip. Sweat began to accumulate along his forehead, feeling his heart beating straight out of his chest. Every single thought raced inside Oikawa's mind as he held the blade in place, stalling time. He decided to count down from three, easing the overwhelming waves of anxiety building up in his body.

He thought of the Seijoh Brawlers, and that if he died right then and there, they would have never known what happened to him. His death would be a mystery, and they would never get any closure. Iwaizumi would wake up from his coma with Oikawa already dead, with their last words spoken to each other being about the race before the accident.

Three.

He thought of a nice warm meal made by his mom, and of his sister, and his nephew, Takeru. If he died right then and there, he knew he wouldn't have the chance to tell his family goodbye, or that he loved them. They didn't even know he went to prison in the first place.