The Black Cat [Detective Conan]

- Chapter 1 : escape -

- Kill her ! Shoot her, what the hell are you waiting for ?!

A silence, followed by the dull sound of a body falling to the asphalt of the harbour. The silhouette of a man takes shape in front of the corpse now lying on the ground. He exclaims in a cold voice : 

- Tch ! Can you tell me what you were waiting for to kill her ? 

A woman's voice breaks the silence after the question : 

- Your "son" was in a better position than me. 

The word son spat out of her mouth seemed to disgust her in particular. 

- He wouldn't be in this world if it wasn't for you too, tch ! Kid ! 

The cry echoed coldly in the disused hangar they were in. A third figure, trembling, takes shape in the moonlight. 

- Y-yes ... ? 

The sound of a slap echoes. 

- How many times do I have to tell you to do as you're told? What have I done to nature to deserve this, kuso ?! 

Backing away from the force of the slap, the face of a young boy with green eyes appears in the moonlight. His eyes are wide with fright. 

His father clicks his tongue, grabs his wife's hand and hisses through his teeth:

- You know what you have to do now ...

The two adults walk away, leaving him here, alone. His cheek is burning, and the pain can be felt even in his head. A migraine is beginning to set in. He wants to touch the painful area with his fingertips, but stops himself by staring at his bloody hand.

The victim's blood.

The blood of an innocent person who had just been in the wrong place.

And he had witnessed her murder.

And he had done nothing.

He gagged, turned his head quickly to the side and vomited, disgusted by what had just happened. He then struggles to his feet and takes care of what his father has asked him to do ...

***

Leaning against the wall of what he called his bedroom, Hayato tried to calm himself. Once again, a crime was unfolding before his eyes and he wasn't moving a muscle. 

At the same time, he risked being killed by his parents or their superiors. Hayato had already seen a few of them. One of the most striking was a certain Gin. His black eyes, which he had only seen a few times, had left him with dark memories. 

The members of this sinister organisation all use an alcohol code name. Hayato isn't considered a very useful member, and is simply nicknamed "kid". He's often even entitled to an adjective before or after this pseudonym, like "dirty kid" for example.

The sound of breaking glass drew him out of his thoughts. It sounds like his father has broken another empty bottle. He loves doing that once he's drunk it all ... Luckily, Hayato wasn't standing next to him. Let's just say he likes it when bottles break on his incapable son's head ...

The green-eyed boy clenched his fist. But this time he's made up his mind. He's going to run and not look back. He's tried it a few times, but those times ended in failure. He's not allowed to run away from the Organisation at the risk of being killed. He has witnessed far too much. Even if he promises not to say anything, he knows that if he leaves this vicious circle, he will be killed without hesitation.

But now, getting killed isn't that important. How could a wretch like him have the right to live when he didn't move a muscle to save the lives of others ? All those people staring at him with empty, astonished, lifeless eyes, as if they too were wondering why Death didn't want to take him away ? How could a piece of trash like him have the right to go on living ? 

Hayato would have liked to tell them that no, he wasn't lucky, no, he didn't want to live, no, he didn't want them dead. He also wanted to tell them that he was afraid, that he couldn't stand up to this criminal organisation, he couldn't even stand up to his own problems. Life taunts him and Death avoids him. 

So he had to take risks and go beyond what he had already done, instead of going through the same routine over and over again. He gets to his feet with determination, gathers a few things that are lying around, stuffs them into a rucksack and prepares to leave his room. He didn't even bother to change. 

He takes a deep breath, grits his teeth and pushes open his bedroom door, revealing a sad sight. A living room stained with rubbish, in which both his parents were asleep, dead drunk. He quietly approached the front door. After all, he was used to moving quietly. 

He managed to push the door open without it creaking. He takes a breath and exits as quietly as possible. He closed the door behind him and started running, as fast and as far as he could. The rain that had been falling since the beginning of the night was not doing him any favours. It was still as cold and heavy as it had been at the beginning. He pulled his hood down over his face, more for fear of someone seeing his face than because of the rain. He crossed the street with his head down, brushing past passers-by and running through the puddles. 

His only aim at the moment is to escape unhindered, without being killed or caught, before disappearing into thin air. The question of shelter for the night was one he could do without for the moment. A sleepless night or two would be a lot less painful than falling into "their" hands ...

He clenched his fist, still bloody from the event at the port, gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain that was reawakening in his cheek, put back on his hood, which was starting to fall off, and looked straight ahead. 

I will flee this cursed organisation and destroy it single-handed, I will make every victim of this criminal group pay, for the one I saw die and for all the others ...