'Entwistle' - [Aoi/Uruha, Ruki/Reita] 1b/13

[colberry]

Title:  Entwistle
Pairing:  Aoi/Uruha, Ruki/Reita
Genre:  Mystery, drama, romance
Chapter:  1/13
Warnings:  Character "death" (you'll see), "time-traveling" and grittiness
Synopsis:  In which time can bend, Yuu grapples for second chances and the simplest actions reap the largest consequences.  He has twelve hours to save him.

PART II

In his fog of panic and rush-hurry-faster, Yuu couldn’t understand why Kouyou had left the door open (again).  His leather sling, the same one Yuu had gotten him for his birthday (the same one the younger had refused to replace after seven years), lay on the floor by the coat hooks.  Its contents were scattered across the floor.  Yuu bent down to get a closer look and finally noticed the blood dripping down the white tataki.  His breath was trapped somewhere in his lungs, the gasps coming faster as his eyes trailed the rivulets to see Kouyou’s long leg, his beloved Staffords sticking out by the back stairs – his body sprawled, his face concealed by the lowest steps.

And in that moment, the air left him, knees slamming into the tiled tataki as he collapsed.  His bones were rattling, hands shaking so hard that his rings were clacking together.  Yuu reached out, fingertips finding Kouyou’s leg and rubbed it, called out to him – whispered his name over and over, the broken words echoing against the glass in his chest. 

A minute passed, Kouyou’s name still tattooed to his lips – heart all but shattered-dead-gone, when he looked up to see Yutaka, his best friend, standing over them with wet eyes and a hand to his mouth.  He wanted to tell Yutaka that it was fine, fine, fine because Kouyou was just being silly again – just sprawled across the genkan because he was too lazy to find the couch –

Yutaka stepped forward and Yuu panicked, releasing Kouyou’s leg and clamoring to his feet – needing to protect him, to kiss his lips and promise to never leave and don’t-take-him-away-from-me-please.  But Yutaka grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and held him back, keeping him from advancing toward Kouyou’s upper body.  The slight man pushed, pushed, pleading with Yuu to stop, please-don’t.  He threw himself into Yuu’s side, desperate to keep him from a sight that would break him, haunt him, tear him wide open.

Yuu couldn’t hear anything, the garble of Yutaka’s voice never registering.  But as his friend pushed him back, Yuu could finally hear a bloodcurdling scream of anguish – something so raw and pained and terrified.  And when it felt like his throat would split open, he realized it was him.  The cry broke off, dissolving into breathy whimpers and pleas against Yutaka’s shoulder.  The sounds of the world slowly faded, ebbing away into a darkness that would never broach light.

They waited at Yutaka’s house next door, silently sitting on the front steps for over an hour before they heard the sirens.  The blare of red and blue lights painted ghoulish shadows on Yuu’s face as he sat, silent and gone.  Tears still painting lovely salt-portraits down his face.

The elder man from before stuck his head back into the room again, pinstripe suit a little ruffled, “His attorney’s here.”

“Hmm, that was fast.”  Matsumoto murmured, casting a sidelong look to Suzuki. 

“The wealthy don’t wait.”  Suzuki huffed, speaking for the first time in his deep baritone, as he tipped his chair forward and stood.  He had his hands fisted at his sides, piercing eyes boring into Yuu as he waited for Matsumoto to join him at the door.  The elder man ushered the two policemen out, the door clicking shut behind them.

The loud clang didn’t even have time to reverberate as the door reopened with a grand swing not ten seconds later.  Yuu blinked, taken aback by the stranger’s abrupt presence.

The man walked in quietly, taking no heed to the room’s unfriendly atmosphere, with a polished air of wisdom and calm that helped ease some of Yuu’s tremors.  His hair was dark, splattered in a deep red and styled so that it fell into pieced locks that dipped towards the sky.  His eyes were dark as well, a murky silver that was sharp and ever-focused.  Yuu stared at the dark kohl that was swept around his eyes, making his gaze all the more piercing, but found himself almost gawking at the numerous metal adornments that tugged at his lips and the bar that sliced through the bridge of his nose.  The severity of the piercings was offset by the man’s sense of quiet assurance, however, as he strode to the table.  Dressed in a high-collared black jacket with gold buttons and gilded tassels, sharply creased linen pants and a ruffled scarf – he was the most eccentric man Yuu had ever shared a room with. 

“They already took most of you, I see.”  His voice was soft and unassuming, lilted in a Sendai accent as he pulled out a metal chair and took a seat across from Yuu.

Yuu stared, confusion evident in his expression as the man gestured at him.  “Your wallet, keys, cell phone, even your watch.  They slowly strip your identity, then they take away your heart and finally your soul.  Just to get you to say what they want to hear.”

Yuu furrowed his brow, voice hoarse from disuse, “Who are you?”  He swallowed, but the dry feeling never left, “Did Yutaka send you?”

“No.”  The man paused, large eyes encased in black scanning the room for a moment before turning back towards Yuu.  “With the case they have against you, an attorney is the last thing you need.  Sapping your money away and still making you feel like you owe them as you sit in your prison cell doing twenty-five to life.”

Yuu felt a frown pull at the corners of his mouth.  It was uncomfortable.  After two hours of deadpan shock, his face wasn’t used to such expressions.  “I’m sure Yutaka’s guy is on his way…  I don’t need you.”

The man nodded, calm rolling off him in waves, as he laid his arms upon the table and leaned in.  “I understand the crippling grief you must be feeling.  Horrible how they do not spare you a moment to grieve.  So driven on steering you into confession.”  He paused, eyes shifting to the side as if considering something.  “Since when did justice start to become about winning and losing?  Is revelation and uncovering truth too lackluster nowadays?”

Yuu fidgeted in his seat.  He tried to hide his gyrating hands underneath the table. 

“The file for your case is detailed.  All i’s dotted and t’s crossed.  I doubt they’ll even offer you a plea deal – ”

“ – I didn’t kill him,” Yuu’s voice shook.

The man hummed, eyeing the way Yuu tried to grasp his right wrist, tried to stop the quivers.  “I know, but that’s not how they see it.  They see motive.  The weapon.” 

Yuu spared the Peacemaker a glance and then looked to the stranger, finding his face grim.  “Right now, they’re just hoping for a confession so they have less paperwork.”

The words were beginning to sink into his stomach, jagged rocks poking at his spleen, “How do you know all this?”

“You’ll be worn down, harassed to confess.  You’ll be convicted, spend the rest of your days in prison; mourning the death of your lover, always wondering what really happened.”

Hearing the man mention ‘death’ and Kouyou in the same sentence made Yuu suck in a breath, the pain in his chest pulsing.  He fisted a hand beneath the table, “You’re not an attorney, so why are you here?”

The man’s cat-like eyes caught the light, glinting a warm metallic, as they remained fixed on Yuu’s crumpled form.  He sighed and leaned in closer, “You can still save him.”

Yuu stared, the very notion too out-of-place in this new, grim reality, “What.”

“If you could get out of here, if you could save him – would you?”

“Kouyou’s dead.”  Yuu said slowly, the words scratching against his tongue, uncertain if the man had been aware of the fact.

“Are you sure?”  His lip twitched upward, a silver spike twinkling at the movement, “Things aren’t always what they seem to be.”

Yuu’s nails dug deeper into his palms, eyes wide and chest heaving, “But – alive?  He’s… How?  I saw –“

The man kept silent, kohl-rimmed eyes confident as he reached into a pocket of his jacket, pulled out a sealed letter and slid it across the table.

Yuu couldn’t help but look towards the two-way mirror.  The man smiled wanly, “Don’t worry.  They’re too busy with the plane crash to watch us.  Two hundred and seven dead.  It’s considerably more pressing to them at the moment.”

The world was spinning.  The memory of the slow drip of red wracked him – his sleeve still soaked in Kouyou’s blood.  The only part of him he had left.  He was everlastingly gone.  But this man’s eyes were so honest.  So then, maybe…

Yuu looked down, blinked away the crimson reverie and slid his finger under the flap of the envelope –

“Don’t open it now,” Yuu felt a warm hand on his.  “Wait until you’re out of here.” 

“…Out of here?”

“You’ve got twelve hours.”

Yuu glanced at the clock – 9:51PM – and tried to keep his head from swimming, “Twelve hours for what?”

The barely-there smile widened, piercings rearranging in a crooked halo around his mouth.  He pulled a gold pocket watch from his jacket and flipped it open, “Time is not something to waste, especially in your case.”  He snapped it shut and handed it to Yuu, who withdrew the hand that was shaking the least to take it, “Seeing you’re short one timepiece, and the pressure you’re under, you’d best hold on to that and keep an eye on the hour hand.”

Yuu stared, whispering, “Who are you?”

The red-streaked man waved him off with a flick of his wrist, “Everything is explained in the letter.  But remember, don’t open it until you’re out of here.”

A migraine was threatening to erupt behind Yuu’s eyes as he looked around the room, at the two-way glass and steel door, “How the hell am I supposed to ‘get out of here’?”

“Well, you can’t save his life if you’re in here, now can you?”

A barb of frustration pricked at Yuu’s jaw, “Stop with the damn riddles.  I don’t understand – where is he?”

The man only hummed again, a low purr, glancing up at the clock as he rose, “You better start thinking of  how you’re getting out.  Nine minutes to go.” 

“Wait – ”

“Good luck.”  The man bowed his head, staring up at Yuu through red and black bangs, “Keep an eye on that watch.  You have twelve hours.  After that, all will be lost.  His fate and yours will be sealed.  And he’ll have died a far worse death than you already believe.”

The door opened and the man slipped out silently, barely moving the air, leaving Yuu sitting alone in the dim lighting. 

No matter how inconceivable it was, his eyes were drawn to the letter – to the gold watch in his hand.  His fingers, still stained with red from Kouyou’s leg, curled around it.  With a nod of his head, he tucked it into the pocket of his jacket.  Despite everything, he wanted to believe.  He wanted to trust the honesty in the man’s glowing eyes.  He wanted Kouyou.

He had seen the body – not the face for Yutaka had held him back in an iron grip.  But he had touched his leg, grappled at the pants he’d worn when he left for work this morning.  It was Kouyou, he was sure of it – and to think it wasn’t, that he was still out there somewhere, breathing, was too insane to even consider. 

There was no question it was Kouyou – the leather sling, the clothes, the fading scent of his Bvlgari cologne.  He had called to Yuu when he arrived home, voice light and absent of the anger from that morning.  He didn’t enter the office, knowing Yuu was trying to finish that manuscript for his editor – knowing that if he didn’t, the raven-haired man would be working all weekend tweaking the odd sentence here and the flimsy adjective there.  But Yuu had heard him.  And he hadn’t paused in his work to return the gesture, still miffed about having to go out tonight.

It was the last time Kouyou called his name – the last time Yuu had heard the slight, natural slur his voice possessed.  The quirk made his syllables soft, made Yuu’s name sound like something precious, something worth everything.

“Yuu, I’m home!”

And he had ignored him.

With all hope shattered and his world ripped from him, this strange man had reignited a spark.  Yuu knew it was impossible, that Kouyou couldn’t possibly be alive – not with all the red-red-red and hollow silence – but his mind kept clawing at ‘what if’.  If there was even a glimmer of possibility, a chance of saving him… 

It wasn’t like Yuu had anything more to lose.

His fingers hovered against the gold watch in his pocket.  Its tick beat in time with his heart.

Black grief replaced with possibility, purpose, Yuu needed this foolhardy chance.  Even if it wasn’t true, if the man’s honest eyes had been a ruse, at least he would have tried.  And so he would have to find a way out of this locked interrogation room and surrounding police station.

Kouyou would have balked.  “That’s fucking insane, Yuu.”

But not impossible.

Bolted door.  No windows.  But there was a two-way mirror.

The clock on the wall’s hour hand slowly crept towards 10PM. 

Yuu glared at his reflection – the broken man from before was now messily crammed back together in crooked  pieces.  There was chaos in his eyes.  Yuu smiled at him. 

The window was made of glass.

Matsumoto Takanori made his way back into the interrogation room, perpetually dark eyes taking in Yuu’s slumped figure as he threw a file on the table.  His tie was askew and Yuu noticed for the first time that he had gauges in his ears. 

The shorter man gave him a look, eyes narrowed, “Before Suzuki gets back here, want to tell me what really happened?  I mean, fuck – ” Matsumoto opened up the file with his gloved hand and gave the contents a grimace, staring at a photo which he concealed from Yuu’s eye – “what drives someone to do this?  Was it the money?”

“Money?”  Yuu bared his teeth, eyes becoming black, “How could you even fucking suggest that.”

“Well, I’m delighted to see you aren’t a damn mute.  Had me worried there, love.”

Yuu glared and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from reaching out and throttling the younger looking man.

“Sorry.”  Matsumoto paused in apparent sympathy, “He was handsome.  Maybe a bit feminine, but... well.  Can I ask when you two spoke last?”

Yuu averted his gaze, noting the time on the clock before eyeing the floor tiles, “We had a fight this morning.”

“About?”

“Going out to a club.”

“Ah.  Don’t I fucking know that one.  Dragged out to some hole in the wall that’s either teeming with venereal diseases or boxed liquor.  Nothing tastes worse than generic scotch.  Believe me.  I can’t even enjoy it on the rocks anymore.”

Matsumoto leaned back in his chair, the picture of commonality and empathy – except for the look in his amber eyes; calculating.  Yuu kept hushed, not even moving to flick away the lock of raven hair that fell into his blurring vision.

“So.  Did you talk after that, then?” 

“No, I was busy the entire day.  Manuscripts, calls, editing, paperwork.  And he had his own work to sort through.” 

Matsumoto nodded, watching the clock tick for a moment.  “He was an attorney?”

Yuu could feel himself bristling, the gold watch heavy in his pocket, “You already know the answer.”

“Hmm, sorry.  Habit.”  Matsumoto gave a noncommittal murmur, closing the manila folder and shifting it next to the Colt Peacemaker.  “So, he was in his office or whatever all day?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Yuu couldn’t keep the snap from leaving his lips.

A blonde brow rose, “You didn’t speak?”

“He called a few times, but I ignored it.”

Matsumoto raised his other brow. 

Yuu felt himself averting his eyes once again, the regret in his chest spilling forth, “Childish, I know..  But I was just so – ”  Yuu suddenly clicked his jaw shut, anger lapping at his throat, “Why the fuck are we even talking about this?  Someone killed him!  Fucking Christ, he’s gone!  And I didn’t do this!”

His wet and snarling cry echoed off the walls.  It lingered in the stilted quiet as Matsumoto seemed to breathe in deep, eyes closing only to reopen with a certain ember burning slowly as he switched tactics.

“So.  It says here that you have a license for a nine-millimeter, Shiroyama-san.”  Matsumoto tapped the folder, mouth tight and gaze smoldering.

Yuu bit out, “Yeah.”

“Where might that be?”

“In my safe.  I got it when I moved to the city, but it’s been locked away for months.  He hates guns.”  Yuu swallowed the slick and bitter irony.

A scoff.  “So you don’t know how to shoot?”

A glare.  “You don’t buy a car unless you’re licensed to drive, don’t you?”

Matsumoto tilted his chin up, peering down at the other man, “No need to be a smartass.”

Yuu fisted his hands again, the temptation to bang them on the table too great, “No need to treat me like I fucking did this.  Like I killed him!”

The blond-haired officer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a world-weariness fashion.  “I’m trying to help you.”

The fury was licking his veins now, too hot and there to rein in, “If that was true, you’d be out there trying to find the real killer.”

Matsumoto shrugged, “Fair enough.  But, if you didn’t do it, you’ve got to talk to me.  It’s the only way we have any chance of catching who did it.”

Yuu paused, a small sliver of hope wriggling in his stomach, “You believe me, then?”

“Well, here’s the thing, love.”  The gleam of predator was back in his eyes, “This lovely gun here is covered in fingerprints.”

Yuu blanched, confusion gripping him tight, “But..  nobody took my prints yet.”

“I took the liberty of getting them off your wallet and cell phone.”  Matsumoto tapped his finger on the ivory grip of the Peacemaker, “Exact match.  You’re going to have to be real clear as to how your fingerprints, and only your fingerprints, got on this gun.”

The severity in Matsumoto’s stare made Yuu’s pulse quicken.  He wanted to scream out I fucking loved him – but it would do nothing, just make his throat sore and heart ache.  He had never seen this gun in all his life, let alone touch it.  He barely touched his own – not after Kouyou had begged him to stow it away.  I’ll protect you, Yuu – you don’t need it, please –

“Ballistics aren’t back yet,” Matsumoto broke into Yuu’s thoughts, “Probably will take a couple days, with the plane crash and all, but your watch had gunpowder residue – consistent with bullets.  So.” 

Matsumoto leaned in, ear gauges flashing white as the yellow light spilled across them, “If your story’s all facts, give it to me.  If you’re gonna make up some bullshit, you better get creative.  I like imagination.”

Suzuki Akira chose that moment to step into the room, locking the steel door behind him, “I would suggest really creative.”  Slate eyes were cold and unforgiving, having listened in on the whole exchange from beyond the two-way glass. 

His next words were mocking; Yuu could feel the leer that Suzuki was keeping off his stony countenance, “Feel free to look at the center of the mirror.  Straight into the camera.  It’s always so much better at helping relate to the jury.”

The sliver of hope had long crashed and burned, a char mark on the lining of his stomach with Suzuki’s entrance.  He shifted in his seat; glanced at the clock:  9:56.

Suzuki suddenly slammed his hand onto the metal table, knuckles white and a snarl curling his lip – shocking not only Yuu but also Matsumoto.

“Easy, Akira – ”

“Cold-blooded murder.”  Suzuki’s eyes were wild and unrelenting, “Plain and simple.  You don’t need to spin us any tales.  It’s all in that folder and all over that gun.  Everything we need for a quick and easy conviction – ”

“Let’s take a break,” Matsumoto cut in, a hand brushing against Suzuki’s arm in an attempt to calm the seething man who only shook him off.

“No.  A man is dead,” Suzuki growled.  “He didn’t get to take a goddamn break.  I don’t care if he was your lover or not.  I want answers.  Was he fucking someone else?  Were you fucking someone else and he found out?”

Yuu’s wide-eyed stare turned scathing, irises almost black with wrath.

“Yeah, I see the anger, buddy.  Come on, do something.”  Suzuki dared to lean in, voice low and unwavering, “Do what you did to him.  All this spit and polish, fuck – you’re no different from the bum in an alley who guts a hooker.”

Yuu felt his lip pull back, teeth almost splintering as he grinded them hard.  Suzuki’s breath was hot against his face and it would only take a split moment to drive a fist through his mouth.  Yuu gripped the edge of his seat tight.

“He was fucking some guy and you killed him.  Fucking murdered him.  Shot his goddamn face out!”

Suzuki slammed a hand to the table again, but this time the force startled Matsumoto to the point where he lost his balance on the two legs of his chair he had tilted during the other’s tirade.  He fell backwards, scrambling to grab the table.

And Yuu, seething from Suzuki’s biting accusations, the shocking crash of his hand against the table, was pushed far over the edge.  Kouyou was gone-dead-killed-murdered-not-here, and Suzuki was questioning Kouyou’s honor – Yuu’s honor.

In the perilous heat of confusion as Matsumoto continued to fall backwards, his sport coat flopped open, exposing his nine-millimeter in his shoulder-holster, butt of the gun protruding enticingly.  Yuu stepped past the point of no return with a snarl, caged eyes promising tumult, and snatched the gun from the shorter man’s holster.

Yuu thumbed off the safety of the Glock as his finger wrapped around the trigger like a dear friend – he hadn’t forgotten how to shoot; remembered the smooth contours and staggering power.  He spun the off-balance Matsumoto into a headlock and jammed the barrel against his temple. 

Matsumoto Takanori threw his hands up in a panic, desperately grabbing hold of Yuu’s forearm – fingers grasping at the red stain of Kouyou’s death.

And everything suddenly rattled apart.

“Drop it!” Suzuki bellowed, drawing his gun and falling to a knee – pointing the barrel straight at Yuu’s head. 

Yuu tightened his grip on Matsumoto’s neck, “You don’t understand – none of you – he’s alive!”  He sounded batshit insane, as if he had tasted the dark juices of insanity and adored it.  Black eyes jumped back and forth between Suzuki and the clock.  “Kouyou is alive.”

Suzuki and Matsumoto exchanged a quick look.

“Listen,”  Matsumoto Takanori’s voice was calm and assured despite the gun at his head, “Put the gun down.  I know what you must be feeling right no – ”

“Bullshit!”  Yuu screamed over Matsumoto’s low timbre.  “You have no fucking clue what I’m feeling.”

“ – losing him and all.  Let us listen.  If someone else killed him, let us catch him.  What you’re doing right now?  You’re on a one-way trip to the morgue.  There’s no death penalty for killing your lover.  But a cop?  Capital offense – they’ll execute you in a second.”

Yuu could feel his hands begin to shake again, the barrel of the gun trembling against Matsumoto’s temple, kissing his flesh with a cold hiss, “You don’t understand – he’s alive.  I’ve been set up.  I need – I need to get out of here.” 

He started to drag Matsumoto backward toward the two-way mirror, elbow digging into the blonde’s jutting clavicle.  Yuu stared straight into Suzuki’s lethal glare and whispered, “Put your gun down.”

“Not a fucking chance,” Suzuki barked, an emotion other than fear for just a comrade clouding his eyes.

Yuu watched the clock across from him tick to 9:58.  He thumbed back the hammer of Matsumoto’s nine-millimeter pistol, the click making the man trapped in his arm startle and jerk. 

“Akira,” Matsumoto growled, eyes searching above him to where the gun was aimed and then to Suzuki’s rigid stance, “Do it.”

“No way, Taka.”

“Do it, shoot!  You’re not playing a game of chicken over here!”

Suzuki’s eyes were defiant as he complied with Yuu’s wishes after a moment of struggle within himself. 

And Yuu instantly aimed the gun behind him at the glass and let his finger hug the trigger.  The gunshot was a cannon as the two-way mirror shattered into jagged shards, pieces scattering across the floor.  Yuu took no interest in the dark room that had been revealed.  Rather, he cocked his arm forward and tucked the gun back up against Matsumoto’s chin, scorching his skin with the searing barrel.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!”  Matsumoto screamed.

And Suzuki was back on his knee, gun back in hand, aimed with deadly accuracy at Yuu’s panting form.

“Look at me.”  Suzuki’s voice became eerily calm, baritone cryptic as he picked up the manila folder on the table with his gun still fixed on Yuu’s forehead.  He poured out a handful of pictures onto the metal surface.

“Do you see these?”  Suzuki hissed through gritted teeth, picking them up one by one, shoving them toward Yuu, inches from his flushed face.

There were fifteen.  All from various angles, in full color.  The blood was thick – so much more vividly crimson than what Yuu remembered.  He couldn’t stop his eyes from boring into each photo, pulled in so tight to these images of Kouyou’s body strewn across his genkan.  He couldn’t stop, couldn’t find his breath – the floor streaked red; Kouyou’s clothes, the dark slacks he was wearing when he last saw him; the hand that had held his so many times, had cradled his face in the blush of moonlight; the chest where his heart had loved him – and finally his face.  Or what was left of it.

The left side was gone – ripped away as if by furious claws – and they eye was missing.  Vanished.  Not there.  The temple and forehead were shattered, broken into pieces that could never fit together.  But the right side…  It only took the sight of his brown eye, the honeyed specks bursting within the iris there under his auburn brow, to convince Yuu.  This dead man, face blown apart and hair tangled with blood, was Kouyou.

And in that moment where Kouyou was dead and looking at him with that lone eye – where the barrel of his gun was shaking against Matsumoto’s jaw – where the scream in his head was so loud, loud – Yuu closed his eyes tight.

“I’m going to count to three.”  Suzuki’s voice was somewhere far away.  “I don’t give a fuck if you shoot Matsumoto,”  But the man’s bravado shook as he said the words and Yuu opened his eyes, “I’m going to kill you right here in front of this camera.”

Yuu pressed the gun harder up into Matsumoto’s chin, the detective’s grip around his forearm tightening in nervous response.  And Yuu realized, as he glanced at his aim, the shorter man had four jagged scars running down his neck.  Deep and messily made. 

Yuu looked up at the clock on the wall, the second hand ticking toward the top of the hour.

“One,” Suzuki whispered.

“No, this can’t – ” Yuu wrinkled his brow in desperation as he glanced again at the gruesome pictures, wishing Kouyou was here, wishing it was him instead – wishing to be someone else so he could escape this dead and hollowed heart sinking in his chest.  The pain was hot and relentless as Kouyou’s mangled face stared back at him, lone eye forever caught in fright.  He tried to tear his eyes away –

“Two,”  Tremors started to snake along Suzuki’s arms, his voice louder this time.  His gun was aimed for Yuu, but his eyes were locked on Matsumoto’s.

“I need to get out of here,” Yuu whispered, a deluded clarity of calm overtaking him.  “You don’t understand.  I can save him.”  Nothing made sense, everything was tarnished and soiled.  But the promise in the pierced man’s eyes was still fresh and untainted:  “You have twelve hours.”

“Three – ”

And Yuu watched as the hammer of Suzuki’s gun slowly drew back.

But before it struck the back of the copper bullet, before it exploded out of the barrel, before his head was blown apart and splattered across Matsumoto’s face –

– the world fell into an impenetrable darkness.


:.:.:

A/N: Long chapters will be long.  

So.  Here it is.  My new baby.  Kudos to the insane dream I had the other week - it was too good not to write down.  I also borrowed a few details from a book I recently read (see:  the gun shtuff, etc) as well.  So, yeah.  As you can see, Aoi and Uruha will be the main characters, but believe me, Ruki and Reita will steal the spotlight as well.  And!  There will be mucho side-characters that will be important to the twist-and-turns of this tale.  The road will be dark and at times really angsty, but trust me.  Not everything is what it seems~ 

Hope you enjoyed and welcome to the newest ride :DD

And boo LJ for making me split this up D: