ᗯᕼIᔕᑭEᖇIᑎG ᖴᒪᗩᗰE [ Brothers Conflict ]

Chapter Three

With the grumpiest of scowls, Rurijo rounded a corner and speeded down to the end of the hall, catching sight of an elevator. The brunette headed straight for it without a second thought; not in the least surprised.

It did make sense for an apartment building to have an elevator in it after all; it's more convenient too. No more having to risk some sort of accident: death by renters stampeding down the stairs.

Extending a hand towards the wall, Rurijo not-so-gently pushed the 'up' button; soon stepping into the machine as its metal doors slid open with a ding.

She then glanced at the even more buttons planted inside the elevator, before choosing the randomist one possible. Floor number four, because why the hell not?

Rurijo tapped her fingers on the holding bar as she waited; backpack leaning against the thick, metal wall.

The elevator soon came to a stop, and Rurijo got off the wall, thinking it was her destination - that is, until she noticed two things.

One, how the elevator was only the second floor. And two, how the door opened to reveal two complete strangers - men, at that - who got in without a second thought; the one on the left chattering to the other anonymously.

Rurijo's eyebrow twitched as she faced the other way - only to have the same chatty man notice her the minute she moved a muscle.

"Ehh, Azusa - " he started, giving a poke to the calm-looking, violet-haired male beside him. "Do you know this person?" The man gestured to Rurijo with his thumb.

Azusa glanced over to who he was pointing at, giving his head a small shake as he replied with slight confusion, "No, I don't, Tsubaki."

"Hmm ... " Tsubaki turned towards the strange person, asking. "Oi, who are you - ?"

Rurijo, like the fart she was, chose to ignore him; making the man turn to his twin in shock.

"Did you see that, Azusa?! The jerk just ignored me!"

He paused, looking back at the messy-haired brunette with an insulted shout, "Oi, I am talking to you, you know!"

And with that, he suddenly whipped out an arm and grabbed the offending person by their hoodie; whirling Rurijo around to face him.

"I'll ask one last time: Who the hell are y - "

Tsubaki suddenly stopped his rant, mid-sentence, once he got a good look at Rurijo; gaping in profound shock.

"Oh my God."

He clamped a hand over his mouth.

The young teen, seeing the other's reaction, rolled her eyes; roughly yanking the man's fingers off of her hood. (As they seemed to be glued onto there for some reason.)

"You know what," she stated to no one in particular, voice monotone. "This was a fucking waste of my time. I should've taken the stairs."

Breaking her emotionless facade to fix Tsubaki one long, hard glare; Rurijo continued. "Thanks a lot. Asshole."

And, almost on cue, the elevator came to a halt. It had arrived on the fourth floor. Rurijo's destination.

The girl adjusted her grip on her backpack, and, with a scowl, turned and exited the thing; not saying another word.

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[CHANGE OF POV]

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" ... Well then," Azusa commented with raised eyebrows, watching the irritated stranger leave through thin, black-bordered specs. "What colourful language."

Tsubaki simply continued to stare at the metal door, even well after it had closed; still in what looked to be shock. " ... D-did you see that?" he finally managed to choke out, eyes wide.

Azusa lifted a thin, dark purple brow in question.

"Scars ... half of that girl's face was covered in scars ... " the platinum-haired male whispered, shuddering. "It is fricken scary, I tell you."

" ... " The younger of the two kept quiet, listening to his brother with an attentive ear as he spoke.

"Poor kid. Who knows what kind of shit you go through to get a face that scratched up," Tsubaki admitted, before pausing. He crossed his arms with a pout. "Her attitude sucks though."

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[BACK TO RURIJO]

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Not looking back once, Rurijo walked along the corridors of the fourth floor, refusing to stop until she was a good distance away from the elevator.

Once deciding that was so, the lanky girl picked a nice spot against one of the walls and sat down; stretching out her long, jean-clad legs.

She then shrugged off her backpack, slyly taking out a medium-sized bag of beef jerky from one of its many pockets.

Beef jerky was like her comfort food. Except, in this case, it was her 'Rurijo-is-pissed-off-as-frick' food.

Proceeding to open it, she popped a strip of meat into her mouth; savouring its dried, salty taste. She then started to chew the jerky; head pressed against the wall in thought.

"Finally, some goddamn peace," Rurijo muttered, shutting her eyes.

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