Reconciling (A Khr Fanfic)

First Act

'Tis calm indeed! So calm, that it disturbs 
And vexes mediation with its strange 
And extreme silentness.

Samuel Taylor Coleridgde, Frost at Midnight

PROLOGUE

"DO YOU HAVE EVERYTHING ready?" Somewhere in Venice, within an enclosed and dense forest, stood a man, a sword stripped to his back and a scar marring down his perfect features. The trees ruffled his neatly trimmed hair, giving him a dark and foreboding look. The few rows of his suit were unbuttoned and undone, showing off a well-built and toned chest.

There was a few rustling heard in the bushes, but eventually, a tall, grey-haired man graciously emerged from the shadows, cigarette hanging in a scowling mouth. "Did you really have to fucking call me all the way here from town? Do you have the slightest clue in how extremely fucking difficult it was to trudge all the way here on foot?" He huffed, furrowed his eyebrows at the lack of response, and slowly fished out something from his pocket and lit another joint; puffing a few smokes out of his nostrils.

His friend frowned at this and discreetly swatted away the pollution coming out from the grey-haired man's mouth. "Hayato, you know how important this is to us." He gave him a hard look. "If you actually aren't as solemn as I thought you were, it'd be best for all of us if you just leave." The grey-haired man paused, eyes flickering over to the raven-haired man in disbelief; then, in a matter of seconds, he had the latter slammed against the wall, sneering.

"Don't you fucking dare tell me what to do, you fucking bastard," he snarled. "I know how important this is to us. So the next time you try getting rid of me, I'll shove of dynamite down your damn throat to make you shut the hell up." Thy both remained quiet at this declaration, a heavy veil of silence engulfing them.

Then, the raven-haired man laughed and shrugged the arm off. "Of course, of course, how could I possibly have thought otherwise?" He tossed Hayato a thin smile. "And it's Takeshi to you, not bastard."

Hayato gave Takeshi a look that you would give a retarded fool and shrugged. He lit another joint. "Like I would call an idiot by his given name . . ."

Takeshi smiled. "Well, he used to do it."

Pause. Everything suddenly turned still. Hayato stopped smoking and Takeshi takes a step back, head lowering down and regretting the words the instant they came out of his mouth. 

The world seemed to have caved in on itself.

Hayato turned to look at Takeshi, face unreadable. "Do . . . do you really think we could get him back?" His voice was uncharacteristically small, and very, very, unheard of. He folded his arms neatly across his chest, fists curling around his joint in a tight hold.

Takeshi stared at him for a while, before turning his head to the other direction. "I don't know," he replied tentatively.

Hayato scowled and threw the cigarette to the ground, twisting it with his polished shoe. "If you don't know," he said, glaring, "then don't bother answering." He turned on his heels and left without saying another word.

Takeshi released a breath of resignation and raked a hand through his black locks. He should've known better than to call Hayato all the way from town, but he desperately needed information, one that his companion didn't seem willing enough to give.

"None of us know, Hayato." He turned his head to miserably look at the darkening sky; thunders seemed to roll in behind a condensed bank of cloud. It's a sign that it was going to rain soon. "None of us know."

ONE

IT WAS VERY DARK and eerie, and a vague beam of moonlight poured through the cracks of the wall. The ramparts were dour and covered in cobwebs, every nook and cranny eroded and timeworn, basically giving the small space a very uncanny look.