Twisted Fate | Akutagawa Ryūnosuke ✓

03 | Mafia Dog

Your head was pounding as your eyes crawled open, revealing nothing but a black canvas.

Every fibre in your body hurt.

Where am I?

Groaning weakly, you lifted your chin, blinking up at the lights infusing an eerie white glow overhead.

You were on your feet, held up by a pair of shackles secured around your wrists. The metal bit harshly into your skin, drawing blood that grazed over your skin like hot wax.

"Oh, you're awake," Chuuya muttered, his tone indifferent as he stepped out from the shadows, dusting down his coat. "Thought you'd died or something."

You regarded him silently, digging your teeth into your lower lip to distract yourself from the pain.

"You know how this works, shadow thief. Answer my questions and I won't go so rough on you," he continued in the same gravelly tone, hitching his gloves further up his wrists. He moved toward you with a predatory haze in his eyes. "Why did you leave?"

Your feet fumbled as you tried to stay on your tiptoes, relieving the pressure of the shackles against your skin. You pressed your lips into a stubborn line.

"Fuck's sake, [Y/N]. Just answer me."

"Go to hell."

Chuuya laughed bitterly, the sound harsh against the stillness of the chamber. He planted his hands either side of your trembling frame, staring up at you with a snarl. "I'm afraid we're already in it."

❖

"Shit, he saw us," you warned, your voice slipping into a low growl as you turned to regard the boy crouched beside you. "He's coming this way; go tell the others."

He peered up at you with hardened eyes. "What about you?"

"Go and warn them," you urged with a more authoritative edge.

Stealing a glance at the broad figure storming towards you, he ducked under the beam you were using for cover and raced down the alley. Pools of moonlight carved the way to the bakery storeroom the others were currently looting.

Everywhere else was bathed in shadow.

Perfect.

Weaving shadowy threads through your fingers, you lassoed them around the man's neck and pulled, choking the stranger until his knees buckled. When the fibres finally snapped, you threw yourself forward and buried a knife deep in his chest.

Stuttering a breath, you retrieved the blade and leapt back, scowling at the dead man in front of you.

Killing didn't faze you. It never had.

The streets of Yokohama were savage.

You had to learn to survive. And death played one of the main roles in your survival.

Watching your breath freeze the air in front of you, you stowed your knife back into your shoe and made to leave when he stopped you.

The rabid dog.

"You're cursed too." He spoke in a melancholy whisper, his voice sounding dead. Empty. Was his heart like that too?

"What?" You swallowed, not quite meeting his gaze.

"You have an ability."

You bowed your head, shuffling your feet. "No. It's a disease."