Hiding In Plain Sight

Bloody Noses and Wrists

"No, we can't go and stay in hotels. That'll create a trail for the police," Shuichi argued, the group sitting in a circle inside the studio. "It's better to stay here. I'll just go and buy some more supplies that we need."

"I'll go with you," Harukawa suggested, leaving no room for discussion. "Teleporting makes it easy to steal."

"Then why not go alone?" Shirogane questioned.

"Never go alone in case something happens, like a fight," Harukawa explained, dragging Shuichi to his feet. The two said their goodbyes to the group and travelled silently through the ghost town, making their way towards a populated area. Sticking to each other like glue, Harukawa and Shuichi kept their heads low as they passed by curious members of the public.

This is a horrible idea, but we've run out of food and supplies. We don't have any choice. Shuichi entered the supermarket, Harukawa close behind as they snuck around the grocery store, empty baskets in hand. He paced the aisles, picking up non-perishable foods and medical supplies, knowing Harukawa was doing the same on the other side of the store. I can't believe I'm stealing, Uncle would be so disappointed in me right now.

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Leaving the store, Shuichi and Harukawa carried their full bags of groceries, hurrying away from the supermarket before anyone could hunt them down for stealing. Harukawa's a pro at this, although I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Making their way towards their home, the two continued their trek without uttering a word to each other.

"Oi you two!"

"Keep walking, it's probably not for us," Harukawa glared at Shuichi. The boy nodded, not breaking his stride.

"I'm talking to you two fuckwits!" The shout returned, closer to the two than earlier. Without thinking, Shuichi turned to catch a glimpse of a man before slamming against a wall, the bags of groceries dropping from his grip. "You're both Ultimates, aren't you? Imagine the money I'd get for turning ya'll in!"

Shuichi squirmed, squeezing his eyes shut as he kicked and grabbed at the muscular hand wrapped around his throat. His back scraped against the brick wall as the man lifted his body higher, the criminal's feet dangling in the air as he attempted to kick at the stone body of his attacker. "You deserve to die like the fucking terrorist you are." With that, the man raised his fist and pounded it into Shuichi's face, the captive's head slamming against the wall behind him.

Dropping to the floor, Shuichi watched in awe as the man fell to the ground in a heap, Harukawa pulling a knife from his chest. Scrambling to his feet, Shuichi grabbed the bags he dropped and ran towards their home, Harukawa catching up with ease. The two dare not stop, running from the murder scene to keep their lives. Shuichi ignored the blood trickling down his chin, some seeping into his mouth as his nose poured the bodily fluid. Why is this happening?

Shuichi slowed his pace, jumping into a building as they reached the edge of the ghost town. Harukawa appeared behind him, leading the male throughout the buildings towards their home, Shuichi panting the whole way to catch his breath. "Are you alright? Stop if you need to," Harukawa offered, glancing over her shoulder.

"No I'm fine, let's just get home," Shuichi mumbled shaking drops of blood from his face. We should get home, it's safer there than the outskirts. Continuing their walk, the two came across the familiar street of their bar studio, making their way up the outer stairs and knocking on the door in a specific tune. The moment the door opened, Harukawa locked elbows with Shuichi and dragged him inside, dumping the grocery bags and sitting him down near the supply storage.

"Sai, what happened?" Rantaro rushed to the male's side, placing a caring hand on his cheek and investigating his face. Harukawa sighed and shoved a clean rag they'd just stole into Shuichi's hand.

"Random guy attacked us," Shuichi explained, leaning his head bag with the rag on his nose. He felt a clump of hair stick to his scalp, his jacket collar smelling of blood.

"Is your nose broken? That's a lot of blood for a little nosebleed," Kiibo warned the male. Before Shuichi could answer, Harukawa grabbed his head and leant it forward, moving Shuichi's hand so it didn't clamp his nose.

"If you lean backwards, you'll just end up with blood in your stomach and you'll throw up," Maki explained. Shuichi sighed, the originally pale blue rag now stained a shade of pink in his hand, a crusty film forming over his neck and chin.

"Are you alright Saihara?" Shirogane asked, kneeling next to the boy and patting a wet cloth to the back of his head. As she pulled it away, Shuichi noticed the pink stains contrasting the white rag.

"Do you need anything?" Rantaro kept his hand on the boy's cheek, caressing it in a calming, motherly fashion. The attention spiked his anxiety, the guilt of worrying people causing Shuichi's stomach to churn as his eyes flicked around the room out of instinct. He noticed people talking, but drowned out the noise, his entire body screaming at the man to run away.

Sneaking a roll of fresh bandages from beside him, Shuichi dropped the bloody rag to the floor before clambering to his feet and pushing everyone away from him. He felt like a sailor, swaying in place as he stumbled towards the large metal door, mumbling something mildly incoherent about needing air. Leaving the studio, Shuichi rushed downstairs and through the building next door. Vaulting through a window, he hid behind walls to get away from anyone who may be following him.

Slipping into a small room, Shuichi hid behind a wall and took out the knife in his pants pocket, rolling up his sleeves. With tears dripping from his eyes, the boy held the knife to the skin on his inner wrist. Dragging it along his scarred, pale skin, the boy watched his scarlet blood seep from his injuries and drip down the side of his arm. Creating wound after wound, cut after cut, Shuichi's forearm eventually became covered in the sticky substance.

I deserved to be punched, I deserve to be murdered. It couldn't hurt to do the job for everyone, I know no one likes me. Kokichi and Rantaro are there, they're friends, right? I'm sure that won't last once they learn the real me, I'm sure they're just interested because we're all Ultimates. Picking up the bandages he dropped to the concrete, mossy foundation, Shuichi expertly wrapped the red limb. If no one knows, it won't become a problem. I'll wash it later, I don't have the energy right now. Shuichi rolled his jacket and shirt sleeve down, pocketing the knife, yet not moving. Resting his head against the wall, he lost himself from the world, ignoring the stinging discomfort in his arm by travelling to a daydream.