Ghost in the Closet

Blood Stained Hands

Warnings

-Torture.
-Murder.
-Graphic depictions of violence/murder/corpses.
-Graphic blood/gore.
-References to past crimes (such as sexual offences or robberies. Not ones committed by main characters).
-Homophobia.
-Implied/Referenced child neglect.
-Implied/Referenced child/domestic abuse.
-Suicide.

-Kokichi is a little shit.
-Shuichi should be in a mental institute.

All spiritual references/beliefs in this story are for the sake of the plot or 'stereotypical ghost beliefs.' Don't start a war over religious beliefs or how true certain supernatural aspects of this story are.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

"The last murder took place two days ago, they should strike again next week."
"You say that like you want them to."
"I kind of do. What they're doing isn't bad, it's only criminals that are dying. He escaped punishment for murdering his daughter, why shouldn't he die?"
"So you're saying that it's okay to kill a criminal?!"
"I don't see much wrong with it. The Tokyo Terminator targets criminals who should've been punished regardless."
"That doesn't make it okay. No matter who it is, no one deserved to be tortured and killed!"

Saihara Shuichi sighed as he spun the steering wheel, the podcast sounding from his car's speakers fading into the back of his mind. He didn't understand why some people were so against The Tokyo Terminator. Surely if he was ever caught, the police would thank him! Besides, what kind of stupid name was The Tokyo Terminator?!

Pulling into the new driveway, Saihara turned off his car and the podcast, never wanting to hear it again now that he knew one of the host's opinions. Exiting his car, Saihara swung open the boot and sighed, grabbing one of the three heavy cardboard boxes. Thank God, he could finally rest after his last trip of the day.

Juggling the box and his fresh, shiny house key, Saihara unlocked the front door and placed the box inside, returning to carry the last two and locking his car. He didn't intend on moving house, it was such an unnecessary hassle, but he had no choice. Honestly, his parents were lucky he did. If it weren't for his benefit, Saihara would've stayed at his old place.

Locking the front door, Saihara froze when he heard an indistinguishable whisper. Frowning, he turned toward the unlit home, bare of everyone but cardboard boxes and old, rotting wood furniture. "Is someone there?" The deep-navy-haired man called into the darkness. As expected, no response came.

Assuming the wind was whistling through cracks in the unkempt home, Saihara grunted as he lifted a box that he labelled 'kitchen'. He carried it to the next room in the small house. Saihara liked this place, it was perfect for him to live alone as he preferred. The man didn't like company, especially when it came to a permanent roommate. Even if he didn't like it, he wasn't allowed to be picky. As long as he moved out of his old home as soon as possible. If he stayed there any longer... No, Saihara refused to think about what could have happened, especially when he avoided it.

Dumping the heavy box onto the marble counter, Saihara moaned in discomfort and stretched his body. He could unbox everything tomorrow, for now, he just wanted rest.

"Get out."

This time he couldn't pass that whisper off as the wind. Saihara analysed every speck of dust floating in the air, eyes darting around at the speed of light beneath his worn, grey baseball cap. "Who's there?! Come out, now!" He demanded. The man wasn't scared of intruders, he knew he'd beat anyone in a fight.

"I'm agender!"

Saihara turned and slammed the intruder against the wall, holding them by their throat and squeezing tight. The wall shuddered from the impact behind Saihara's sheer strength. His eyes widened when he noticed the fluffy, pale mint hair of his friend, Amami Rantaro. After dropping them, Amami coughed and rubbed their neck. Dropping to his knees, Saihara reached out to grab his friend. "Are you okay?! I'm sorry!"