I'm Sorry, Young Master

Chapter 3 - Fuyuhiko

It was dark in the closet, too dark, I couldn't even see my hands as I banged them furiously against the heavy door. I couldn't see them, but I could feel them turning red with soreness. Every shove sent the various bottles of medicines that covered the room from wall to wall shaking precariously.

I went to get my phone from my pocket; but soon after patting down every crevice of my clothes, I accepted that I'd left the damn thing in my bag.

Great. Just great.

I'd given up trying to yell, the office was obviously empty of anyone; whoever had locked me in here had taken Peko. Or it was...

She couldn't have been the one to trap me. She couldn't have. She wouldn't have. No way in hell! I punched the door again in fury, I could feel the flesh on my knuckles tear and I smelt blood. Blood and... fire?

Wiping my face with my sleeve I put my face close to the wall, the smell of smoke was faint, and yet it burnt my nose and made the vomit start to work it's way up. I kicked on the door again, knowing it wouldn't work but hoping anyway. I sank to my knees and closed my eyes, trying to disguise the suffocating darkness and waiting for this whole ordeal to be over. Peko can't die. She'll be alright.

Then the screams came.

On the outside, people were yelling, crying, pleading. And even worse, the tortured howls were met with laughter. Laughter that seemed abnormal, chilling, psychotic. What the fuck was going on out there?

Could one of those wails belong to Peko?

The smell of burning was still as strong as ever, but it was odourless compared to the seeping, metallic smell of blood. I thumbed my way through the darkness until I found a wooden mop and a rusty metal bucket. Without hesitating I threw the mop to the side and clutched the rim of the pail and puked. I puked until all that came up was a ragged phlegm that burnt my dry throat. Feebly, I picked up the rancid bucket and, trying carefully not to trip in the blackness, found the corner of the room and placed it down out of the way.

"Can't wait until that starts reeking." I said sarcastically to myself.

The screams had not yet stopped, but they were getting less frequent, and they were all intervalled with a pair of hurried footsteps. Whatever was going on, this was no stove-top left on. This was an arsoned massacre. For once, I was glad to be stuck in this room.

The bloodbath went on for what seemed to be forever. I'd managed to distract myself with trying to break open the door, which failed. I then moved on to yelling for someone to let me out, but if anyone could here me, I'm not surprised they didn't stop fleeing for their lives to let me out. In the end I gave up, resorting to burying my face in-between my knees and praying for Peko to be safe.

Dear god let her be safe.

The fatigue had finally caught up with me. I desperately tried to fight the weak heaviness of my eyelids, but the darkness I had tried so hard to adjust to soon transformed to a formidable lightlessness that I could not counter.

I woke up to the sound of a clicking lock. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I leapt to my feet and grabbed the handle. Peko had come back. What was I even going to say to her? That didn't matter, as long as she's safe. Her safety will forever be my top priority. The second I heard the key remove itself from the door I threw it open without hesitation.

"Peko-" I started to gasp. But it wasn't Peko who had come to set me free. It was Yukizome. She was okay. There was also a tall man leaning on the wall behind her, looking down at the floor dismissively. He was a man with a respectable aura with hair as white as his suit. Guys like that get on my nerves. I already knew I didn't like him.

Yukizome had taken a step back when I opened the door. Her eyes were puffy around the edges. But she was more or less okay. And if she was okay, that must mean everyone else was too, right?

"Fuyuhiko? Are you alright? You... I thought you were..." She couldn't finish that sentence before hanging her head and biting her lip. Why would she think I was dead though?

"I'm fine." I reassured in a tougher-than-I-felt voice. "Where is everyone?" They're alive? All of them? Peko-?" My voice had taken to rambling. I had to know she was okay. She had to be okay. Was she okay?

But, to my fears, she didn't raise her head but walk closer towards me before taking me into a comforting embrace. It took me too long to say anything. In fact, I didn't say anything at all. I once again collapsed, wrapping my arms around Sensei's waist and cried. I felt Yukizome's tears drip into my hair and I couldn't see with my face buried into her slightly charred apron. But for all I noticed they could have been stabbing me in the back. I wouldn't notice. I couldn't process a thing. I couldn't think to do anything but cry.

So that's what I did.

I cried as the man walked over to us and split us up. I cried as he gave Ms. Yukizome a hug. I cried as he handed me a silk handkerchief. I cried as he escorted us from the school and I didn't stop crying as we got into his car and were driven far away from Hope's Peak Academy. When the tears stopped coming, only three names rang through my head. One gone, and the other two would soon be too when I got my hands on them. They would feel my wrath for taking my Peko.

They would pay for messing with the Kuzuryu clan.

They'll rue the day they messed with me.