Nostalgia | Dazai Osamu

13| Closer

(Y/n) P.O.V

Drenched. I was completely drenched from the unexpected storm, my clothes stuck on me like stickers on paper.

I slammed the keys down on the table, turned on the kitchen lights and growled as I threw of my jacket, not caring where it had landed. I flipped of my shoes and trudged to my bedroom, stripping from my cold and clinging clothes one by one. When I reached my room I decided to wear an oversized jumper that reached above my knees. I couldn't be bothered with anything else. I blow dried my hair that had been tangled by the harsh wind and chilly rain, pleased to finally be free from the damp around my neck.

Walking back into the main room, I jumped onto the sofa, screamed into a pillow, my anger and confusement muffled. I stayed like that for a minuet, and then rolling over on my side to stare at the ceiling. The city lights and reflection on the windows presented and illusion of blue and yellow light on the ceiling which looked like the top of water when you were swimming. I listened to the hum off traffic, alone in my dark room, wanting to doze off in this comfort...

At least I thought I was alone.

I had just shut my eyes, my body starting to loosen from it's working mode and my head starting to drift. I felt like I was dying from fatigue, after running around from late trains, chasing after Akutagawa to check up on my request to stop the bomb, only to find out Kyouka was saved by Atsushi and she went off with him on a little 'date'. Maybe it was her cry for help. I knew she detest the life of murder and demise. Maybe the Agency would be a better position for her, even if it means the Mafia would lose a soldier and gain a foe...

Snap.

My eyes jolt wide open. The hell was that? I frown and wait to hear it again...
I could hear the most subtly sound of something I couldn't make out...Was there someone here? It sounded like a crunch, as if they stepped on grinding stones. I stay still, arms over my head, legs touching the arm rest. I glared to my left, seeing if there was a reflection in the window. I saw a tall silhouette roaming in my kitchen, the LED lights shining brightly around the edges of his build.

In times like this, it's practically forbidden to make any audible sound, and especially panic. This wasn't the first time I've had someone break in, so I know how to deal with useless humans like these. I remember training for this, we learnt how to crawl of furniture and walk without the opponent hearing anything. We were taught to move with a certain foot work, and study the surrounding. Luckily, I was one of the top in my classes.

I slid of the sofa, lying on the carpet, nose to the ground. I slid of my shoes, placing them next to me. And of course, weapons were essential and extensively spread across my apartment. I slide my hand under the sofa, fingers wrapping around my favourite baseball bat. I retreated, looking at my bat, the words 'smash it!' engraved around the top of the bat, red paint filled in the gaps. I hold it, both hands over my shoulder, and stand up, half squatting, half standing. I move towards the man, dodging the sofa. I stay silent. My eyes are on his arms, wondering what it was he was holding.

I frown as I get closer, something wasn't right. He stayed so still... and I still stayed silent. Only the distant hum of traffic filled the room.

I was a metre away. I tried to watch what he was doing around the counter, and I saw a shining sharp knife grasped in his hand. That was it. Rule number one: attack before you're attacked.

I called out in anger as I kicked him in the back of the knee, hard, and stand back to watch him trip over. I swing him on floor, bat colliding with his stomach, grab the knife from the counter, crawl on the man, knees on his thighs, hand on his throat, knife above his head.