Hayate Igarashi is a Tokyo rich kid who finds life extraordinarily boring, that is until his attention is gripped by the angel-faced Touma Kirigaya who ebbs him every time he looks at him. Why can's he forget about Touma?
Not only that, but one nig...
Dashi chose not to follow the three Kings. It was business between them, and she felt like getting involved would become a bore. It was early evening now. The sun was beginning its decent to allow the moon to shine come nightfall.
The street she sauntered down was empty. She seemed to almost be skipping as she walked. Her hands were clasped behind her back. She was humming the same song that had been in her head for as long as she could remember.
As she turned the corner she noticed a man standing there, at the end of the street. He was on his phone. He had a bump on his nose bridge.
As she walked past him, he glanced up, and his eyes widened. "Hey," he called.
Dashi spun around. She stared at him, awaiting his words.
"Are you Dashi?"
She cocked her head to the side. "How did Mister know Dashi's name?"
He huffed. "I have been trying to find you. I just did not expect it to be this quickly. And by coincidence."
"Why?"
"The person I am working for wants you."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Hachiro stepped forward and grabbed Dashi's arm. "Come with me."
"Release!" Dashi yelled. She started to giggle. "Release!" She struggled against him, but Hachiro, like most men, was bigger and stronger than Dashi.
She screamed and struggled against his hold, but she could not break free.
"Hello, Soma?" Hachiro asked over the phone. "I have Dashi."
"She must have run off," Hayate said. They had looked for Dashi outside, and now they sat in the flat. Harin had headed home to think about what she had discovered today. "She'll be fine. She has been for a long time, hasn't she?"
Touma nodded. "I know. I just... I'm just worried."
Hayate squeezed his arm. "It will be fine. Don't worry too much."
Touma leaned against his shoulder. "I know."
"Touma, listen," Hayate took Touma's hands in his own. "I'm sorry, about..." he couldn't say it. "I just, I wasn't in my right mind, all right?"
Touma was no longer angry. He couldn't stay angry at Hayate for long. "I know that. I know you wouldn't have just killed yourself. I just..." he looked down at their hands laced together, "I just hoped that you would manage to get over it."
Hayate shook his head. "That was never possible, I loved you too much."
Touma touched his forehead to Hayate's. "I know you love me, but I couldn't let you die for me."
"So, you chose to die for me, instead?"
Touma pursed his lips. He did not meet Hayate's eyes as he nodded. He chuckled. "I loved you too much."
Dashi screamed as her back hit the metal operating table. She could not stop giggling.
"Hold her down," Akira ordered.
"Yes, sir," Nakamura said. "Tsuji!"
Chihiro's eyes were wide as she stared. Her head began to shake.
"Chihiro!" Nakamura shouted, "I swear, girly!" Nakamura glared at Chihiro. Her voice was threateningly low as she said, "Do as you're told."
The look on Chihiro's face was a mix of disbelief and fear. Shuddering, she pushed Dashi's torso down against the table.
Dashi struggled relentlessly. The sound of her mixed screams and giggles echoed through the operating room.
She went silent when Akira touched her head, pressing his thumbs to her temples. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Dashi, you need to calm down. All I want to do his help you."
Dashi's eyes were wide as she stared at Akira. Her lips trembled. "Don't want!," she yelled, "Don't want!"
Akira rolled his eyes. He raised his head. "You see, Dashi, you should really blame Touma for this. This is happening because he still cares for you."
"Yuuki isn't to blame!"
Akira snickered. "Oh, yes he is. He ran away. I warned him not to. But he did it anyway." He leaned over Dashi and tapped her nose. "You understand that, don't you?"
Dashi's eyes glistened with tears. And then she spit.
Akira recoiled back. He sneered as he wiped the ball of saliva from his cheek. "Dashi, you have made me angry." Akira started to loosen his belt.
Dashi shrieked, begging the two holding her down for help. Chihiro squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch it any longer, and powerless to stop it.
Nakamura, on the other hand, had a wide grin spread on her face.
Akira folded his belt in half. He pulled it taught and forced Dashi to bite down on the leather.
He turned around. "Let's see." On the desk behind the operating table stood a machine Akira's biological father had once used for electroconvulsive therapy. "I modified this machine to my own tastes."
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Akira switched on the machine and gripped the headpieces in his hands. As he rubbed the metallic tips together they made a sound. Murmurs of the approaching electricity.
Akira bent over Dashi once again. An eerie grin occupied his countenance. Dashi looked between the two apparatuses in Akira's hands. A muffled scream ripped from her throat, partially blocked by the belt in her mouth.
"Medically speaking," Akira said, "A shock above 460 volts in electroconvulsive therapy is highly unethical, but even that's pushing it. The human body can only take about 2 700 volts of electricity, but I think we're going to try 12 000 volts on you. Just to see how far I can push you before you die."
Dashi shook her head desperately. Her eyes begged Akira to stop but gagged with the belt she could not plead with him.
Akira pressed the headpieces to her temples. The metal was cold, but it felt like it burned her skin.
Dashi's stifled scream ripped through the operating room as she shook with the seizure. Akira cackled above her. He forced Dashi to endure ten seconds of 12 000 volts of electricity. The average person could only endure up to six seconds.
Her kicking and flailing and struggling became weaker as she lost feeling in her limbs.
