POISON TREE, Tokyo Revengers

two

CHAPTER TWO, 二

2017

THE SAND IS SOFT, her feet sinking deep within it. The water is cold as it laps her ankle. It is freezing actually but there is no effort from the body to remove itself from the water. Because Daiyu has never felt more alive than now.

She is smoking her last cigarette before it takes her life.

The hem of her dress is soaked, drenched in fact. But Daiyu is indifferent. She is desperate to finish her last smoke in peace and tranquillity.

There are tears flowing from her eyes. She flicks the bud of the cigarette away and brushes away the loose strands of hair stuck to her face by tears.

"Daiyu, it's getting cold. Let's go back."

The voice is gentle yet stands stern against the winds of the night. It's the same powerful voice that she sought comfort in when she was a child. The voice that led her out of the darkness. But its powers do not work on Daiyu anymore. The voice is merely an echo, a quiet whisper in the back of her mind.

Daiyu stands, dressed in nothing but the same black dress she wore to Hinata's funeral and the long coat except she is not wearing a scarf.

The skin on the side of her neck tingles, responding to the caress of the wind. She pays no attention to it and here she stands on the beach she used to seek comfort in so many years ago—those long and forgotten years buried in the depths of her mind.

She decided to stay in Tokyo for a couple more days after Hinata's funeral but it was not because of Naoto's plea but on her own wish. She never told Naoto about her spontaneous extended stay here – for all he knows he will never see her ever again which still stands true.

Daiyu turns around and sees the owner of the voice.

The woman has grown old and feeble. Grey and white hairs angrily streaked through her dyed brown hair, and wrinkles around the corner of her unrelenting dark eyes have deepened. Yet her beauty still manages to be sustained though it is slowly fading away with her growing age.

Kojima Reiko sits in the wheelchair, her hands clasped together in her lap. The nurse behind her wraps a shawl around her frigid shoulders.

Daiyu brushes her hands across her cheeks in one fluid motion, as if she was wiping something off her face – something that wasn't her tears. She advances further into the shore, towards where Kojima sits patiently on her wheelchair. She stops just a few steps away from her, not too close but not too far.

Kojima's eyes are out towards the sea. Her expression is wistful as if she is in deep thought. "I remember you used to always come here when you had lots on your mind," she pauses for a moment – searching for her next words. "Didn't someone used to come down here with you all the time too?"

Daiyu turns her face away and shakes her head. Her answer is immediate as she gives the question no thought. "No. I was always by myself." She crosses her arms over her chest and looks down at Kojima. "Now you're really getting old."

The older woman glares at her and clicks her tongue in annoyance. "You're insufferable. Anyways, remember that kid. What's his name again? Oh yeah, I remember Mitsuya? Mitsuya Takashi? He came over to visit me the other day." She lets out a laugh. "Mitsuya has grown into a handsome young man." Stopping once again, Kojima's eyes run down Daiyu's body. "Unlike someone. Anyways, you two were quite close, right? Well, he asked how you were and he told me to give you this thing if I ever see you."