Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High etc., along with all the canon characters.
I'm only going to have that up once, so you can come back here if you really need a future reference, okay? X)
A/N: This started out as an experiment of some sort of mere whim, but then it gradually got bigger :D
This fic toys with the psychological emotions and mind and there would be some sort of 'romance' going on in the later chapters, together with pyschological weirdness and suspense. Don't forget; you've been warned. XD
This is a KyouyaHaruhi fic.
Night Murder, ch. 1
The night was dark, and empty. Chilled air filled the entire street of emptiness in the late aftermath of a cool night shower. The place was silent, still; but fresh with the smell of sprinkle droplets of dampness that hovered in the sifting atmosphere.
The smooth pavements were mildly wet; its road with small, sometimes deep puddles blotching up the pathway.
Haruhi shivered. Enveloping her chest with both arms, the young brunette tried to warm herself up by constantly rubbing her gloveless hands onto the crossing upper arms in a poor attempt to generate heat waves within her freezing body.
Streetlights filled the banks of the horizontal yet empty road, its dim rays of light streaming down onto the rough gravel in which specks of glistened sand and little fragments of tar lay by resting.
1: 02 A.M.
Not a soul in sight for probably miles around.
Haruhi sighed as she kicked a slightly round piece of pebble at her feet, frowning at the bitterness of the early morning chill.
All the girl had was a brown coat for her overall, its flimsy material in poor resistance to the coldness of the surrounding atmosphere that had her enveloped in without a choice. Decked out against the night with denim jeans and a turtle-neck sweater of a dark shade of cyan together with a small slingbag made of wood fibre, Haruhi clenched her teeth from chattering.
This was not a state of unluckiness. In fact, Fujioka Haruhi was more than lucky of what life has installed for her so far.
She was at the top of her game; stepping on what seemed to be little milestones towards the top –top of achieving her lawyer's dream that she had always wished to come true. It was her chance to fling deserving criminals into jail, to uphold the law of justice, and to walk in her late mother's footsteps.
Now, at the considerably young age of twenty-five, Haruhi was already part of a Japanese law firm, under the name of a 'Lawyer's Assistant'. She was slightly fresh from lawyer school, but still well prepared and determined.
Still learning the ropes, but she already had it in her grasps. Just a few years, maybe months more and she'll be ready to take part as an official profession of a full-fledged lawyer.
Only then would she fulfil her life-long ambition; she had studied way too hard for it in the previous years, slogging past project deadlines, mugging for various entrance and end-year examinations. She was an A star student.
An individual that scored perfectly straight As with a rare occasional B that blemished the pure white record. But still, she was set for life. Nothing could stop her now; her path was more or less clear in the midst of a mirage of distraction.
The brunette's ears pricked up, alert.
Footsteps thudded by the back alley behind her, accompanied by a few empty cans that littered the dark brick walled alley, most probably left by night drunkards that wobbled their way home through the night streets, although the mild possibility of litter-bugs were not crossed out.
Haruhi took a deep breath and remained a silent aura of calmness as she prodded on, unaware of the already stiffening surroundings. It's probably just a cat, Haruhi muttered to herself. Or a mere passerby; Nothing to worry about.
The rushing of footsteps proved her wrong as they shuffled quickly, squishing at the puddles pooled upon the gritty black ground.
She paused and whirled around.
Her eyes met nothing apart from the usual backdrop of the city's night surroundings as Haruhi clenched her fists. Fresh goose bumps had already adorning her pale skin, cool and bumpy to the touch.
Then, a scream was heard.
Piercing through the once peaceful surroundings, it shot through the tensed brunette like a dagger, sharp at the silver glistening point of the blade. Haruhi's eyes widened as she hurried to in which the direction of the scream came from.
Shrill, it was; like lightning out of nowhere on the soil of an old cemetery basking in the early signs of a new dawn. Whatever it was, something was happening. Haruhi just had to find out what it was.
Turning round the bend into the supposed alley, she froze. Her chocolate brown eyes could make out the distinct markings of two figures, pitch black against the lightless surroundings. One squatting, leaning against the cold impact of a slightly uneven hard brick wall, its firm exterior having been mildly eroded due to past weathering.
The other, it seems, was standing, facing in direction to the squatting individual. One arm outstretched, he looked as if he was pointing something at the latter's head.
Under the slight glint of a nearby street-lamp, Haruhi could make out the object in his hand. Gleam. A shade of metallic silver could be seen.
Haruhi could only stare wide-eyed as she frowned, heart pounding at an usually fast speed.
Haruhi lost control as she made a run for it.
Splatters. Dark splatters of black could be seen spraying in less than a nanosecond onto the wall and surrounding ground. Like paint, it was dripping wet; but unlike paint, it was thicker. Smoother in a mixture of a dark shade of red, black in the dark surroundings.
It was blood.
Her racing footsteps echoed as a gleam of obvious brown shone in contrast to the beam of light filtering down a lit street-lamp. Running, not stopping, the girl winded through various streets and houses, now out of the main road's sight.
She had been running for approximately twelve minutes now, never stopping to take a last glance back.
Twisting her way through narrow pathways, she breathed a sigh of relief as she came into closer distance of her house, an apartment in a small 'commoners' building.
Slowing down, but never stopping, Haruhi slipped through the gates, its latch left unlocked by the last person using.
It was only after she had secured the lock that she allowed oxygen to wash freely into her pounding muscles that were slightly sore at the legs. She took a few calming seconds to observe from behind the silver gates, its paint having been slightly chipped away at the edges.
She hadn't been followed.
Haruhi couldn't help smiling as a triumphing wave of relief overwhelmed her soul and her still-racing heart.
She was safe.
Haruhi dropped the plate without so much of a care into the kitchen sink as she turned the tap on. Cold water came gushing out as the brunette did the night's dishes in silence.
She couldn't sleep.
Now all that's left of her once panicking state was nothing more than a lingering tugging of the heart.
He'll be caught, She dismissed it inwardly. The news, the body... They'll all be up tomorrow.
But no matter how much she tried to assure herself, Haruhi just couldn't drive away the uneasy feeling that was pelting down like black raindrops onto her. The only reassurance that was confirmed to her was that he didn't see her face under the pale, weak moonlight of the night.
He couldn't have saw her too clearly to distinguish her from the millions of people that might be roaming the streets and towns. That and he didn't know her name, or where she lived. Nothing; he's got nothing on her. Her lips curled up into a smile as she finished the last of cleaning up the dishes and headed for bed.
She would forget about the incident, as if nothing has ever happened. After all, the news would be on tomorrow evening. Details of the successful attempt of the murder, together with the bloodstains that adorned the walls and ground like a sickened piece of art would be displayed, more or less. At least, the police would be on this case; the murderer would be caught sooner or later.
He was into hiding.
And she didn't have a proper look on his face.
She couldn't be of help to the police.
Or threat to him.
Justice has long arms, Haruhi murmured, tucked safely in the bed by her covers. They'll fix him in the end.
"Here are the papers for the on-coming case of attempted murder. You can knock off after this ne?"
Haruhi took the papers from the outstretched hands of her fellow female colleague as she skimmed through the A4 pieces briefly before setting them neatly onto her desk.
"Mhmm. You don't have to work overtime, do you?"
"Nope! It's like heaven, not being made to stay back to work overtime in this office anymore... It's a really tiring job!" Akiho Kana stretched gleefully. A new secretary, Akiho-san was young and still partly of a child at heart.
Haruhi could only marvel at the blonde's constant cheerfulness and brightness that seemed to illuminate every room she's been into. The young brunette's character was far from hers. Calm sounding, and mature.
Fujioka Haruhi shoved her phone into her handbag as she stood up. Pushing the chair back into the solid, polished light-honey coloured wood of a desk, she made not a sound but a gentle nod of the head.
"So you want to have dinner together? My parents are buying takeaways anyways, and I'll be alone for the night."
Haruhi shook her head.
She had to get home to catch the news, to make sure everything was going alright like she had assumed it would. A precaution that the brunette had preferred to, over having dinner with a certain colleague whose personality was poles apart from hers.
"Nahh, I need to get back home."
"Then mind letting me drive you home? I'll be going your way, so it's pretty convenient. How 'bout it?"
The offer was taken after an afterthought, filled with a grateful smile.
Nothing much was exchanged further as Kana followed the lady whose hair, plain and straight without any apparent fuss that she had seen other ladies make over their individual loved locks smile and walk out of the office's entrance.
Haruhi was different, the girl knew. And she respected that with a certain amount of awe and admiration.
Clad in her usual night gown, the brunette switched the television on as she made her way into the kitchen. Grabbing a bento box out from the refrigerator, she poured-transferred the contents out onto a plate from the cutlery rack and popped it into the microwave.
The cabinet above her was stuck with a sticky-note, and she took it down to read.
To my dear daughter Haruhi,
The fridge is almost out of orange juice. Please get some tomorrow when you're free, alright?
P.S. Daddy loves you!
From Your beloved daddy,
She sighed inwardly. Having your father work at an okama bar at what she had described as 'unearthly hours' had an obvious setback of them not being able to meet each other -even at home- on a regular basis. Nevertheless, weekends were better, to say the least.
Once a minute was up, Haruhi pressed the push-button on the microwave and removed her dinner for tonight.
Making her way to the living room, she made herself comfortable on the small cushion on the floor, just in front of the blaring television.
Scooping a spoonful of rice, she shoved it into her mouth, eyes fixed in an epic glare at the television screen. The news was up, and her hand gripped the spoon eagerly, basking in the suspense that had got her surrounded in it all.
"Anytime now," Haruhi whispered. "It'll come up anytime now."
The young lady spent the next whole hour having her eyes glued to the screen.
He tossed his unloaded gun onto the crimson red sofa, and then proceeded to lean onto the dark-red meranti desk. His fingers traced along the smooth surface of the layer of plastic.
"Fujioka Haruhi," He read. "Female. Date of birth, 4th of February, 1984.
"She should've known better than to drop her Identification Card."
Reviews would be loved oh-so-dearly loved!
Also note that ratings might be changed when things get further into the story as the plot becomes a warp, and more twisted and stuff, arigatou. X)