Chapter Text
Present day
‘Thank you.’
The bar was relatively empty but busy enough to cause a low level buzz in the room. The glass numbed his fingertips, condensation coating the outside the way he liked it.
Flicking through the messages again, his fingers moved, eager to find anything that would indicate a change, a delay, a cancellation.
‘Excuse me?’
The muffled words sent a characteristic thrill through him, one he only allowed himself to acknowledge recently.
He turned toward the voice, then nodded, the thrill dissipating as quickly as it came.
‘Please, go ahead.’
Rewarded with a ‘thank you’ smile, he lifted his coat and draped it across his lap as the chair beside him was whisked away.
He left, after a further half an hour passed.
The light coat protected him against the sunset chills that waxed as daylight waned. He stopped for a moment on the bridge, stole another look, before returning the phone to his pocket. He spotted a wooden bench unoccupied and alone amidst the idyllic scenery.
He hadn’t expected him to show, did he?
The rhetorical question circled his mind.
Pulling out his phone he checked again.
‘Apologies for the wait, Raito-kun.’
The voice melodic in its cadence.
He nodded. ‘Apology accepted.’
************************
2010, age 14
Shivering, he made his way down the desolate alley and crouched behind the large metal bin, the ground slippery with the deposits of decayed food, and the stench of a place well frequented for moments of relief. His throat was straining to hold the tidal wave of bile that tossed and turned in aggravation in his stomach.
This was not happening to him, no. This isn’t real, this is science fiction, this is X-men and marvel comics, this is…
The expulsion steamed as it hit the chilly ground and cooled in the evening air.
His hand brushed across his mouth, then down the thigh of his trousers, and large thick streaks of grime lined his face as he used his sleeve to wipe away the stream from his eyes.
This wasn't meant to happen. Not to him.
***
His school day had started and ended like any other. He was as popular as any student with good grades, middle of the road family, and a decent life. He couldn’t complain - well he could, but not effectively. He really couldn’t hold any part of his life in contempt.
The stones along the track crunched loudly under his feet as he headed home. His parents had forbidden him from walking near the tracks, but for months he had chosen this route. The best part of his day was walking here by himself. his mind clear; focused on the mundane.
He sneezed and rubbed vigorously to deaden the itch in his nose, tucked in his shirt, and pulled down the sleeves of his jumper. There had been a snap in the air, but he had refused to take the bulky coat his mum offered each morning.
The sound of the approaching train could be heard in the distance. They didn’t run as frequently as most, four times a week delivering office supplies. They weren’t fast, but fast enough to know that you will not walk away unscathed if you happen to forget the reason for the metal tracks.
Crossing the thick rails, he ambled along the entrenched path and through the metal gates onto the main high street where life returned to its frantic pace, and he became hyper aware of his surroundings once again.
Arriving home, he changed into his slippers and entered the warm kitchen.
‘How was school?’
‘Good,’ he said, like he did every other day, as he handed her his report card.
She dried her hands quickly on the damp tea towel that rested on the table amongst the onions skins and garlic cloves, and reached for the envelope. The scan was quick, mandatory. ‘Well done, son,’ she said, tucking the evidence of his obedience and acumen into her house coat. 'Food will be ready in about half an hour.'
***
Packing away the last of his completed homework, he dropped the heavy bag near his desk.
His mother called from downstairs.
He sighed. He could easily pretend that he didn’t hear her, but experience told him that she would eventually come upstairs and ask him if she heard him calling, and he would pretend he had his ear buds in. He opted for the less contrived scenario, and reached for the bedroom door, as he wheeled his chair along with him. ‘Yes, mum?’
‘I need a few things from the shops, can you go for me? Your sister’s not home yet.’
The creak of the wheels as he rolled back to his desk and rested his head on the cool wood, was all the demonstration of his disapproval he could muster.
***
The plastic bag swung along-side him as he departed the shop. He pocketed the change as he left, feeling it heavy in his coat pocket. As he did so, the lone child playing near the road caught his eye. The feeling that followed had the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and his mind scream something wasn't quite right.
Happy, rollicking movements uncoordinated but determined, the child was laughing oblivious to the world around him. Dodging in between the legs of people, his eyes bright, excited. His skin papery, washed out and veined catching the sunlight.
Then the world slowed as he watched with dismay and his heart leapt.
It was an empty can that enthralled the child. The clanking hollow sound as it rolled into the road seemed to suddenly become amplified in his mind as he watched the wonderous look of the child, fixated on the shiny metal and he darted, unaware into oncoming danger.
He moved before he knew what he was doing, stride quick and assured, as he grabbed and pulled back with an armful of child, and his back hit the solid slab of the pavement, immovable and unforgiving.
The screech of the tyres attacked his ears and a loud bang accompanied the shattering of glass.
He could hear faint cries as a small face came into view, round and wide eyed.
A hand touched his cheek. ‘Dead?’
‘Maybe?’ was all he could whisper as the world seemed softer round the edges.
Then he heard the panicked scream, ‘Maiou! Maiou!’, but he couldn’t see where it was coming from.
The child turned and wailed, ‘Mama!’
‘Don’t move kid, the ambulance is on the way,' said a gravelly voice, indicative of a heavy smoker.
He tried to get up, but firm hands kept him in place. ‘Be still kid, help's on the way.’
His shoulder blades felt as if they had been chipped at the edges. ‘I have to get home.'
‘In time kid, what’s your name?’
‘Raito. Yagami, Raito.’