And what about the boy who sat behind the phantom their leader and didn't tell a soul? What if he wasn't so passive, but instead worked the courage to join Akira and the thieves? Wouldn't it be a totally different story?
Started: March 03, 2018.
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It was already past 10 when Suzuki arrived home.
In front of the blackened house, discarded beer cans littered the once nearly trimmed lawn. Suzuki already knew the fate that would be coming his way as the second he opened that front door, or tried to climb into his room.
On instinct, Suzuki turned on his feet and made an attempt of what should have been a quick escape. However before his legs could take flight, a hand seemed to extend from nowhere and latch onto the very back of his head.
Without warning, Suzuki was sent flying back as his hair was aggressively pulled back. As his back came into contact with an unfamiliar chest, Suzuki was paralyzed in fear.
So many times before, these nights had happened. However the underlying fear that always held him captive never seemed to fail. As if he was as light as a feather, Suzuki was literally swept off his feet.
"We've been waiting for you Suzuka~"
His voice was deep, sending a cold chill down Suzuki's spine. His use of the sickening 'nickname' was enough to make Suzuki want to bash his head into something. But he was powerless.
Suzuki's legs simply dangled as his body fell limp.
Now being cradled and held in bridal style, Suzuki's eyes could only flutter to a close as terror entrapped him. Sleeping now would be his only saving grace. The last thing he saw was the sleazy smile of his father as he collected the money of his "deal".
His world fell into complete darkness.
By the time he woke up, the damage had been done.
Suzuki's eyes snapped open. For the first time since night, he would be awake and fully aware of his surroundings. The night had gone by in a blur, however by the disgusting purplish-blue "love" bites and hickeys and the unwanted soreness in his lower back.
Suzuki could easily put two and two together.
As the pain lessened in his body, Suzuki forced his aching body upright and examined his surroundings. Like the many other times before, he had been dumped in an empty hotel room, while the evidence from the previous night remained splattered around him.
The sight sent a shudder down his spine as he painfully shifted aside the various "torture" devices, before shifting off the bed. With the assistance of the wall, Suzuki managed to shift his way towards the bathroom. Once there, he could fully see the extent of the trauma.
His soft, porcelain skin was left purple and blue as bruises began to welt. Blood ran down the side of his face and nose, most likely from a recent blow to the fairly damaged area.
His father would be mad, but for all the wrong reasons; his precious merchandise had been disfigured once again.
Suzuki's frown deepened as he noticed the jet black female wig that had been placed on top of his already darken hair. Although crooked and slipping, Suzuki could see his feminine features clearly.
It seemed as if someone had "taken care of him", as the expensive wig and make up had all been placed onto the boy. He never ceased to be amazed with the large workings that occurred during such events, so many people were involved, yet none said a word.
Surely, the man who had dragged him to the hotel couldn't have applied the make-up himself. He could only shutter with the idea of what happened. Sadly, it wouldn't have been the first time, and most definitely wouldn't have been the last either.
People often thought as Suzuki was a sex doll; less than human, simply something meant for pleasure and personal gain.
It sickened him, however it was a trap he was unable to avoid. With a heavy heart, he ripped the wig off before throwing to the side. As to wash away the filth on his body, Suzuki quickly slid open the glass door to the shower, before stepping in.
After an hour or so of soaking in lukewarm water, Suzuki got out and dried himself. His pale skin was now a rosy red from his hard scrub and scratches he had given himself.
With a sigh, he dressed himself into his school uniform that had been thrown mindlessly over the back of a chair. His eyes seemed lifeless as he grabbed his things and left the hotel, not even bothering to pay as someone had most likely taken care of it.
As he passed the receptionist, he noticed her look of silent pity. Suzuki could only feel ashamed, he could easily assume what people thought had happened; and they sadly wouldn't have been that far from the truth.
Suzuki rushed back to his house, his head lowered in embarrassment and shame. He wanted nothing more to change out of his dirtied Shuijin uniform. For a moment, as he approached the familiar black house.
He felt a pang of fear. If the same situation as last night happened once again, he wasn't sure how well he could deal with it mentally, or physically.
His frown deepened. It would only take him a second longer to move to the side of the house where he could climb a nearby Japanese maple tree and shimmy his way into his room. Although it was unlikely that his father was home, he never wanted to risk it. As he opened his window, he jumped into his room and he surveyed his surroundings.
Seeing as the coast was clear, he quickly threw off the uniform before changing into more casual clothing.
He followed the all too familiar process of doctoring his bruised and battered face. For a moment, he stood before the mirror once again and examined his facial features. As he looked into the black, lifeless pits of his eyes, he would somehow be reminded of Akira.
When the two had met, Akira had something beautiful sparkling in his eyes. It was not only the power of rebellion, but the strength for change. It was something he greatly envied in the moment.
For a brief instance, he felt as if he had been forgetting something. His eyes widened as he remembered the plans he had for the day. He rushed to his phone. It would only be 23%, but even then he could see the 13 ignored text messages and 5 missed calls.
Plugging his phone in for a few moments, Suzuki opened the group chat. His eyes would quickly scan by the various messages he had received. His teammates, Ryuji and Akira, had been struggling without him there. They had barely managed to find any information without him there.
He gave a soft sigh, before finally responding to them, giving a brief: "I'll be there in 15" text.
He was over 2 hours late for school, although the pep rally made it easy for him to move in and out. With that in mind, he grabbed his things before heading out.
He ignored the remaining incoming text messages as he began his venture to Shujin. It was going to be a long day.
