𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 Kazutora Hanemiya

Chapter Five

Footsteps' symphony arises, and the oppressive solitude enveloping the abandoned surroundings rooted somewhere near the school area has been hampered repeatedly for the following flowing periods. With an interminable smile on his face, a certain teenager lingering in the said vicinity appears unfazed by the grim, steadily conquering the route of the disorganized passageways with darkness depressingly looming around every turn.

As he breathed in, his hand fell into his pocket with precision. The reverberating sound reverted. He halted when he reached a certain door, leading to a room where one of his heinous secrets had been firmly hidden from anyone's knowledge. He aimed precisely at the door before kicking it with force, creating a booming noise. Inhaling the air within, a whiff of the arising foul smell embraced him, penetrating his perceptive nostrils.

His gaze wanders the pitch-black space, with barely any illumination filtering through. His lips briefly bent downward before they resumed to smile once more. His beautiful sand-colored eyes sparkle with anticipation as they acclimatize to the overwhelming inky blackness and examine the scene in front of him.

In front of him, vile, sick roses were blooming. They were strewn across the floor in an oh-so-loving yet destructive manner.

A man who has been rendered immobile by the rope that has tightly encircled his now-frail body lingers within the chamber. His glazed eyes were barely open. His swollen cheeks pressed against the painted floor, coldness nipping at his flesh freshly and relentlessly. He was looking straight ahead with a firm expression of determination vividly comprehensible on his face. His hair trickled down his blood-tinted complexion. 

Baji Keisuke was observing the presence looming and watching over him by the threshold. He gritted his teeth unknowingly. With his brows knitted in perplexity, he acknowledges the perpetrator, questioning him while his voice refuses to falter. 

"What can you really gain from doing this?" He questioned, his voice resounding on the wall surrounding him. His lips oozed vermillion.

Kazutora Hanemiya eyed him. His sand-tinted eyes glinted diabolically with burning malice.

"Who knows?" Kazutora simply shrugged.

"This is all about her, right?" Baji Keisuke gritted his teeth behind his swollen lips, inquiring further. He was far beyond perplexed as to why this kind of event has been transpiring.

Kazutora chuckled. Walking deeper into the room and passing the threshold, he slowly headed to the corner, where the baseball bat he had sneaked out had been neatly leaning against the frigid, soiled wall. He smiled hysterically as he ran his fingers across the bat. Unimaginable thoughts swirled uncontrollably within his mind. Taking hold of the metal in his hand, He swung it, and it impacted the air around him.

"Ahh, it's been so long since I last did this," he said, craning his neck dreamingly.

Sparse darkness flooded the entire space of the abandoned room, suppressing the sight of the trickling, watery form of vermillion that painted the concrete walls and the grey floor placed beneath. The harsh yet repressed sound of tough objects hitting something was portrayed as continuous and monotonous. Yet it was pleasing—too pleasing for him.

The sound of something, or rather someone, cracking did not escape his hearing. Kazutora Hanemiya was feeling ethereal and ecstatic. His heart was brimming with happiness.

Steady, sharp sighs escaped his parched lips, which have their corners diabolically scooped upward. His throat seems to be menacingly desiccated, and the essential oxygen he needs seems to be in scarce supply at the moment.

Beads of sweat trailed down his now soiled skin, and heat escaped his pores. while his arms holding the bat were still at work. It was comparable to a machine. His hands were on continuous work upon destroying something beyond recognition. Drips of claret painted the wall, and everywhere it was splattered viciously.

Eyeing down the man, he smirked viciously.

"Tell me!" he gasped for air, his eyes gleaming diabolically. "Who is the only person with whom she is in love?" He added, slowly muttering in a very low, callous voice. Then the remnant of his voice gradually ascended, the foul barricade that shielded the soiled room somewhere inside the deserted building reflecting the not-so-questioning sentence that slipped his parted lips. His eyes were enlarged by filtered lunacy.

"It’s me, isn’t it? I’m right, as I should be!" He laughed at himself for his brilliant phrases of comfort while he continuously and relentlessly beat the now unconscious man laying on the ground with a bat. Blood has splattered on his cheeks.

❝Since there can't possibly be anyone else other than me.❞