"You seem to be under the impression that there is a special breed of bad humans. There is no such thing as a stereotype bad man in this world. Under normal conditions, everybody is more or less good, or, at least, ordinary. But tempt them, and they may suddenly change. That is what is so frightening about men."
— Natsume Soseki [kokoro]
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JINGI [romanji] | this is the moral code of the Yakuza.
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Oikawa ran.
His feet pressured against the pavement as he continued on, not once did he look back. Ragged, shallow breaths were taken in as he rounded another corner. He didn't know where he was but one wrong step and he'd end up somewhere undesirable.
He finally came to a stop, collapsing on the side of a building next to a darkened alley. His breathing had become erratic. The quicker he drew in air the dizzier he became.
At this rate he'd pass out.
He stopped, drawing in a sharp breath he winced and doubled over. He didn't know where he'd ended up but he could tell he was far from the restaurant.
Even in his disoriented state he a could at least feel that the area was familiar.
The soles of his feet ached as he stood up straight.
This isn't the time, he thought.
This wasn't the time to be conscious of how worn he was. Oikawa looked up at the night sky. The stars twinkled against the black backdrop, a lonely moon hung in its center.
"...Oikawa?"
A familiar voice called out to him. He shuddered.
There was no way. There was no way it could be him. He didn't want to believe it. And even if it was, how could he have unconsciously ended up here... in front of him. ...Of all places.
He slowly turned, hoping that in the time it took to face him, that he'd vanish like an apparition. When he met his eyes he almost cried. Oikawa began to back away, turning on his heels in a way that made him buckle to the ground.
