The Mad Dog, The Puppeteer and The Demon

Chapter 1: All Terrible Stories Have A Terrible Beginning

"We slippin' on semen."
-A$AP Rocky

Ayanokouji POV
Freedom huh? Is this supposed to be what freedom feels like?
As I was sitting on the bus, occasionally scanning around at the new people that would enter at each stop, I couldn't help but get lost in my own thoughts. Are there people that really use the bus every day? What do they do when they can't reach the bus, or if the bus just never comes? Do they ask one of their friends to help them? Do they give up and just stay home for the day? Do they start walking, no matter how far the distance?

While I was asking myself these utterly useless questions, I gave a nonchalant glance at the passengers riding with me. Only a few were wearing the same uniform I was, and only about four of those were peaking my interest in any way.

There was a well built boy sitting diagonal to my right, inspecting himself in what looked like a gold plated mirror with what I've heard Matsuo's child describe once as a "shit eating grin." There was also a girl with black hair, a single braid adorning her head sitting to my left, reading a book.

Crime and punishment, eh? Good read.

I noticed her eyes dart towards my direction for a fraction of a second, so I averted my own, out of an attempt at courtesy. Speaking of eyes, there was another boy directly in front of me who only had one, an eyepatch covering his left, with what looked like a slender build and a long face, he looked like he hadn't had a good nights sleep in a long while judging by the heavy bag under his good eye. His hair was also black, but he kept his in a tightly kept ponytail.

The boy next to him was also an anomaly appearance wise. With white hair in a perm of sorts and dull red eyes, it seemed to me that he was also occasionally scoping out the other passengers on the bus. His shirt was undone a couple buttons down, revealing a surprising amount of muscle mass in his pectorals.

While I was stuck in my thoughts for the second time, an argument sprung up to my right, directly where the blonde haired boy was sitting.

"Excuse me?! How dare you talk like that to your superiors!" A woman with the appearance of an office employee raised her voice at the blonde haired mirror fetishist. Ah, it seems like whatever the lady was yelling about has been going on for more time then I realized. What could possibly make someone so irritable this early in the morning?

"Superior you say? While I do acknowledge your superiority in age, that hardly matters at this moment. I am still under no obligation to give my seat up, especially when the one asking lowers herself to argumentative skills of a child. Normally I would boast about my luck with the opposite sex, but it seems that you are unsightly all around." With that bold statement, the boy flashed a cocky smirk and placed some headphones, blaring some kind of orchestral at maximum volume, much to the chagrin of the office lady.

"Tch. Fuckin brat." The office worker spat out with full venom directed at the boy, completely unaffected by the grumbling. The old woman standing next to her was doing her best to calm her younger down, though unsuccessful.

"Oi. Is the seat for grandma over there?" The white haired boy spoke out for the first time, deep voice rumbling and drowning out the raging of the instigator.

The office worker quickly spun to her left to glare at the living perm, and offered just as quick of a response. "Yes it is, can't you see that she's barely able to stand here for so long?" Her voice softening slightly at the hope of finding this poor old lady her seemingly rightful seat.

"Then hurry up and let her have mine. I'm getting sick of your bitching so early in the morning." The perm spoke out in irritation, while still standing up to offer his now vacant seat. "Wha-!?"