Hero Complex

Chapter 010: bleeding tears, crying blood

❛ 出血涙、泣いている血 ‧  shukketsu namida, naite iru chi  ❜

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Two men sat in a sparse, though neat-looking office room, the dark orange glow of the late afternoon sun pouring in through the tall windows, the familiar commemorative certificate dedicated towards the APHC hanging on the wall. 

 "My, my." The Director smiled pleasantly as he sipped his own cup of tea. "It's so very rare of someone as influential as you to come down to this humble orphanage, Mr Tsukichi."

The Yakuza Kumichō, who could be described at first sight as a traditional man, since he only wore yukata and geta and insisted on things being written horizontally and not vertically, chuckled himself. 

"Why wouldn't I?" He swirled his tea around the porcelain cup slowly. "I did build my empire with children like yours."

Sipping the drink appreciatively, taking in the taste and colour, Izana Tsukichi's sharp eyes watched the man sitting behind the desk. 

"Although the relationships between ability-users and the populace have had a rather bloody past, these days of friction must come to an end eventually." He set the empty cup down. "What we need are rules and discipline. Discipline leads to peace, and peace leads to profit."

The white-haired old man nodded at his words, hands clasped and tucked underneath his chin. 

"A certain matter has been brought to my attention regarding one of your wards." The Kumichō's smile was too sharp to be well-intentioned.  "I'd like to ask for your kind cooperation regarding the matter."

The two men smiled at each other before the senior answered. 

"Of course. What's one favour between old friends?"

━━━━

Sneakers clicked against the cold, wet cement as Himikō tugged her grey hoodie over her head, her eyes blank as she walked underneath the flickering streetlights. 

Her hands were shoved in her pockets as her body shivered slightly against the cold, though her mind was unmoved as she trudged forward through the cold night air which nipped at her cheeks, turning them a pink colour. 

She turned the corner around the bay dock warehouses, where the problem had started all those years ago. The scenery was the exact same with the misty cold night and the sound of lapping waves against the harbour. 

An addition not present at the time, however, was Yomi Hourai, who was leaning against one of the unloaded crates dressed in a baby blue shirt underneath black denim overalls, lollipop stuck in her mouth.

Merely taking note of her presence but nothing else, Himikō frowned with narrowed eyes at her maternal cousin. "Stay out of my way, Yomi." She spoke simply, moving past her.

The other girl's eyes wandered down her up and down before starting. "Goodness, you're not wearing pink, Kikyō-san! You really are on the warpath."

"Not in the mood for you."

Yomi smiled at Himikō adoringly, her eyes bright as she took in that beautiful bloodlust written all over her cute, delicate features. The only thing that could ruin her mood now was the thought that she only had it on because that face-mask boy caused it. 

"Very well then. I shan't bother you." She simpered with a love-struck sigh as she watched Himikō head in the empty warehouse.

As her sneakers stepped over and atop some random old wooden planks laying on the ground, which creaked underneath her weight, Himikō felt absolutely nothing but a dizzy, numbing feeling around her head as she came face-to-face with the sitting figure of that man, who looked up when she entered.

"Hey," His deep, gravely voice greeted her, matching his patchy stubble on his chin as his eyes lit up in that familiar inhuman glow and Himikō's did as well.

It was as though she was at the darkest part of the bottom of the ocean. She couldn't hear anything, she couldn't see anything. All she wanted to do was┄

Breathe.