A/N: It's here guys. The official last chapter of Boulevard Nights. I feel like I'm in the twilight zone or something. *_* I'm actually finishing a story. Holy cow.
I don't have anything to say really, except for that I hope you all enjoy the last chapter. I wanted to explore some relationships in this chapter, most of all the ones between Fuuta and Fran, and the one between Fuuta and his parents. I'm also alluding to some other abilities I think illusionists, Fran in particular, might possibly have. Illusionists aren't just limited to the illusions, after all. Like for example, Mammon/Viper is a psychic, and Mukuro has the ability to possess people. Who is to say Fran doesn't have some special talent too? You'll see what I mean. Lastly, I'm planting some key questions and ideas in your head. I want you guys to be curious as to what the heck was going on in Fran's life before meeting Fuuta. I'm sure some of you are beginning to piece certain clues together, but all will be answered once Fran's bio/character sketch is written later on. You'll just have to wait and see! *winks*
With that being said, read on loves!
Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! But I do have a cosplay wig. I don't think that counts for much, to be honest. Meh.
…and smiled as he flew away into the sunrise.
"Fuuta, what are you doing down there?"
Fuuta and the boy locked eyes for a split second before the small brunette quickly scampered over and ushered the boy down from the counter, all the while shooting nervous glances towards the staircase. He could hear his father's heavy, exhaustion-ridden footsteps slowly coming closer.
"You have to hide!" He whispered hurriedly as he pushed the boy towards the back door, the change of clothes in his arms that he had brought down for the boy frantically tossed into the pantry as he went.
"Fuuta?" His father's voice was just around the corner now. Fuuta gulped. They were done for. His father would get to the kitchen before they made it to the back door. The brunette quickly decided to change tactics. He ushered the boy instead around the back of the island and pushed him into a crouching position.
"Stay here, okay?"
The boy nodded and tightened his hold on his folded legs as he tucked himself against the counter, appearing as if he were trying to make himself physically smaller. With the boy hidden, Fuuta poked his head over the counter just in time to see his father walk around the corner, yawning loudly and scratching his bare stomach.
"Fuuta, what on Earth are you doing down here, and did…did you eat all of that pudding at once?" His father asked, hazel eyes widening at the slew of empty pudding cups that littered the top of his marble island.
Fuuta scratched his head sheepishly.
"I was really hungry earlier and I...um…I dunno, I just wanted pudding for some reason, aha...haha…" He muttered with an awkward smile. His father gave him a skeptical look.
"Well at least clean up the mess after you eat, Fuuta. Good Lord…" His father mouthed around another yawn as he walked around the counter towards the refrigerator.
…Right to where the boy was hiding.
Fuuta was unable to prevent the strangled squeak from escaping his tiny mouth as he instinctively looked down at the boy, whose eyes were strangely calm, despite the footsteps drawing nearer to his hiding place.
Fuuta's father stopped dead in his tracks at his son's peculiar reaction. He gave the boy an odd look, before a knowing look spread across his handsome face.
"Are you hiding something, Fuuta?" He asked, the barest hint of a smirk appearing on his face as he walked closer to the brunette child. Fuuta shook his head quickly in denial, but it was too late. His father almost always knew when he was lying.
"Fuuta, if it's another kitten you found in the yard, I told you that they need to stay outside with their mothers. You don't know if they have fleas or anything like that." His father said sternly as he quickly walked around the counter.
Fuuta closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable 'Who the hell?' from his father. But to his surprise, he heard his father make a little noise of…adoration?
"I have to admit though," he heard his father mutter softly as he crouched down, "this little guy is pretty adorable. But he has to stay outside with his mom Fuuta, you know that."
Fuuta cracked an eye open and peered down. In place of the green-haired boy, sat a small, pure black kitten. Its bright green eyes shone as it hissed wildly at Fuuta's father, who was slowly reaching towards it.
Fuuta scratched at his head. …What on Earth…?
Fuuta's father chuckled. "Feisty little guy, isn't he?" He said as the kitten's ears folded back menacingly. It puffed it's fur out in order to make itself look bigger, all the while hissing loudly in an attempt to be intimidating. Fortunately, that seemed to be enough to deter Fuuta's father, who instantly retracted his hand and stood up.
The tall, sandy-haired man chuckled quietly as he grabbed a water bottle out of the refrigerator.
"That kitten might be feral Fuuta. He should really be outside with his mom. If your mother finds another stray in the house, you know what'll happen." His father said, taking a sip of his water as he made his way out of the kitchen. Fuuta, who was still more than a bit baffled by the sudden appearance of the cat, nodded.
"Okay daddy, I'll put him back, I promise. I just wanted to feed him, that's all." He said as cutely as he could manage. His father was a lot more passive about these things than his mother was. The older man just waved it off dismissively.
"Alright, alright. Just make sure he's back outside before your mother wakes up. And please," His father started as he motioned towards the island exasperatedly, "clean up this mess, Fuuta. You're not a baby anymore."
Fuuta nodded silently.
"And keep quiet down here, okay? Your mother went to sleep in a pretty foul mood . You really don't want her to come down here, I can tell you that." His father said half-jokingly.
"Are you going back to sleep, daddy?" Fuuta asked quietly. In response, the tall man yawned loudly and stretched his arms.
"Definitely. See you in a few hours, kiddo." His father said tiredly as he ruffled Fuuta's sandy hair before turning and making to disappear up the stairs, when there was suddenly a knock at the front door. Fuuta and his father shared a curious look.
Who on Earth could be knocking at this hour?
With a muttered 'who the hell could that be at six in the morning?,' Fuuta's father left the kitchen to answer the door. Fuuta gave the 'kitten' behind the counter a bewildered glance before running after his father. He entered the leaving room just as a familiar, albeit unwelcome, face was invited into his living room.
"Hey uh, Fuuta, this guy says you can help him with something." His father said, his face riddled with confusion. It was one of the men from earlier. Fuuta felt several beads of sweat form on his neck.
Not when he had no idea where the green-haired boy was hiding.
"Hey there, kid," the uniformed man began as he took the seat on the couch offered by Fuuta's father, "I have a few things I'd like to ask you."
Fuuta nodded slowly. "Um…ok-okay." He stuttered quietly. His father looked between the two curiously. The petite child cautiously planted himself on the recliner across from the burly hospital worker. The man leaned forward, his dark eyes locking with Fuuta's own large brown ones intimidatingly.
"We've gotten several reports from your neighbors about a…disturbance, last night, coming from your yard. Can you tell me anything about that?" The man began, a hard edge in his deep voice. Fuuta unconsciously gulped.
Curse his nosy neighbors. What were they doing up at that hour anyway?
"Fuuta, what's he talking about?" His father asked seriously, but the man raised a hand to silence him, not once taking his eyes off of the small child. Fuuta's nervous gaze shifted rapidly between the two men as he tried to think up an answer.
"Well, that was when I got home. I came in through the backyard." Fuuta said quietly. His father turned to him with a disbelieving glare.
"What the hell where you doing out at night? And by yourself no less!" He barked. The man once again raised a hand to calm Fuuta's father. "Please sir, let me just get the information I need, and then I'll be on my way." The man turned back to Fuuta.
"I remember we sent you home at around, oh, five-fifteen or so, correct?" The man said with an oddly neutral look. Fuuta shrugged. "I don't know what time it was."
The man nodded slowly as he mulled over what Fuuta said. After a minute, he spoke again. "Well I remember perfectly. We sent you home at exactly five-seventeen, and if I'm not mistaken, it takes about, oh, say ten minutes to get here from where we were, right?" He questioned again, a hard glint in his dark eyes.
Fuuta felt his heart racing wildly. The man was on to him. "I-I guess." He muttered as he tried his best to avoid the man's hard, dissecting glare.
"Now meanwhile, the police station began receiving reports of a strange person skulking around Vittorio at around five. Several of your immediate neighbors said they saw an unusual figure in their yards. And it apparently was having some sort of difficulty finding it's way. The last report came in at exactly five- twenty two, about five minutes before I estimate you arrived back here, correct?" The man probed inquisitively as he leaned closer to Fuuta, who shrunk back into the cushion of the recliner.
Fuuta's father stepped towards the man. "Just what are getting at? Are you implying that my son is responsible for something?" He snapped, his volume escalating rapidly. The man simply shook his head.
"No, not at all. However, I think he knows a little more than he's letting on." The man said as he leveled Fuuta with a stern glare. "Your neighbors said that they heard some strange noises coming from your backyard around that time, and they also said that your porchlight came on and stayed on for quite a while before it went out. You seem like you're used to running around in the dark, so any particular reason you felt you needed the light on?"
Fuuta shook his head. "It… comes on automatically. I guess… I tripped it up." He stuttered out. The man sat back against the couch, his steely eyes narrowing slightly at Fuuta's nervous, fidgety movements. The man folded his large arms across his broad chest. "Somehow, I doubt that." He said gravely. Fuuta's father growled.
"Look asshole, just tell me what it is your accusing my son of! Out with it!" The tall, sandy-haired man shouted. The orderly looked over his shoulder at the older man.
"A patient escaped from our hospital earlier this evening, and your son happened to be out at that hour. Truthfully, I find it very difficult to believe that he made it all the way here without seeing anything." He said harshly. Fuuta sank further into the cushion as the man turned his narrowed eyes back to him.
The small child just clenched his eyes closed as he shook his head. "I swear, I didn't see anything. I came right home and went inside. I made the light come on by accident." He said as calmly as he could.
"You're lying. You know something, and I can see it." The man said sternly as he stood up to his full height. He walked over and crouched in front of Fuuta's trembling form.
"Look kid, this isn't a joke. This patient is extremely dangerous. He's been in a drug-induced coma for years, and has never been outside, so it's very possible that he may be disoriented. That boy is a danger to himself, and possibly to those around him as well. Now if you saw something, you have to tell me."
"Fuuta, please. If you saw something, tell him." His father interjected officiously from behind the man. Fuuta looked back and forth between the two older men. His tiny heart was beating rapidly in his chest, the pressure of the impromptu interrogation sending his anxiety through the roof. On the outside however, he kept his face as earnest as he could. He slowly shook his head.
"I'm sorry mister, but I really didn't see or hear anything. If there was someone around, they weren't anywhere near here. My neighbors must be confused. It was pretty early after all." Fuuta said innocently. The man's eyes, if possible, narrowed even further as he pinned Fuuta with a subzero glare.
"But-"He began again before Fuuta's father intervened. "He already said he didn't see anything, sir. Stop trying to intimidate my seven-year-old son into telling you things that you want to hear. I think it would be best if you left." Fuuta's father said curtly as he motioned to the front door.
The man sighed, shaking his head as he stood once again and walked to the door. Before exiting, he turned to Fuuta with a hard glare. "I know you're lying kid. I've worked with people long enough to know when someone's bullshitting me, and I know you know where he is, if you don't already have him stashed away in here somewhere. You're not doing anything to help him, believe me."
"Leave." Fuuta's father snapped. The man raised his hand in defense. "Fine. But you'll be hearing from Osservanza very soon, I can assure you that. You have no idea just who it is you're messing with." He said threateningly.
"And Fran," The man called into the house slowly, "if you are here, I wouldn't recommend staying in one place too long. I know you wouldn't want anything …unfortunate, to happen to this nice family, would you?"
At that moment, the black kitten meandered out of the kitchen and hopped onto the couch next to Fuuta, it's emerald green eyes locked on the orderly. The man gave the kitten a curious look when it sat down, not once breaking eye contact.
"There's no one by that name here, and there is most certainly no need to threaten us, sir. If we see anything, we'll be sure to call your establishment. Now leave." Fuuta's father said once again as he forcefully ushered the man out the door. "Good luck with your search." He said tersely before closing the door in the man's face. He turned to Fuuta with an incredulous look.
"Fuuta, what the hell was that about?" He barked as he sat on the couch where the man had been previously, leveling his only son with a stern, patriarchal glare. Fuuta could only grimace awkwardly. "Well…you and mommy were yelling so loud last night…I got scared, so I...I went out for a bit."
At the mention of the argument, the older man's eyes softened sadly. "Oh Fuuta, I'm sorry you had to hear that." Fuuta jumped up quickly at the pained look on his father's face. "It's okay daddy, I didn't hear much, honest. But when I was out, I ran into that man, and he said they were looking for an escaped patient. He gave me his card." Fuuta said, his big brown eyes widening innocuously as he retold the events leading up to this moment to his father.
Without mentioning the green-haired boy, of course.
Fuuta's father gave him a dubious look. "But, there's no truth to what he's saying…is there?"
"What do you mean daddy?"
"You-you really didn't see anything or anyone, did you?" The sandy-haired man asked as he leaned closer to Fuuta. "You'd tell me if you saw someone like that around, right?"
Normally. Fuuta thought with a mental frown."Yes papa, of course I would tell you." Fuuta said with a small smile. The older man returned the gesture as he stood up and yawned.
"Alright then kiddo, if you say you didn't see anything, that's good enough for me. I'm heading back to sleep for a bit. Try to keep it down, alright? It's early."
Fuuta nodded quickly. "Don't worry daddy, I'm going back to sleep soon too, I was just hungry."
The older man chuckled softly as he patted the small boy's head, giving it a hardy noogie before turning and disappearing up the stairs. Fuuta craned his head to follow his father's figure up the staircase. The petite boy held his breath until he was sure he heard the bedroom door close quietly. As soon as it clicked, he let out a shaky, exhausted breath.
"Phew." He said as he turned around, only to come face-to-face with the green haired boy. Fuuta shrieked as he collapsed in a heap on the floor, clutching at his tiny chest. The boy crouched down with his hands on his knees.
"Sorry Fuuta." The boy whispered, his voice low and deadpanned. Fuuta gaped at him.
"H-how did you do that?" He stuttered. The boy tilted his head to the side. "Do what?"
"You…you turned into a cat!"Fuuta screeched. The boy shook his head calmly. "No I didn't. I just made them think they were seeing a cat. I was standing behind you the whole time."
Fuuta stared at the boy strangely. That statement had rung a bell somewhere in his young but sharp mind.
Someone who can make others think they're seeing something that's not really there…
"I can do things. With my mind, I mean."
Trickery of the mind and senses… illusions…
Fuuta's eyes widened with realization as he looked at the boy, who was occupied with picking a loose thread out of his hospital gown.
"You're an illusionist, aren't you?"
The boy suddenly looked up.
"Yeah, that's what the boy that helped me escape said too. How did you know that?" He asked curiously.
Fuuta smiled knowingly.
Now it all made a bit of sense. Fuuta honestly couldn't understand why it hadn't occurred to him sooner. As the infamous Ranking Fuuta, he had of course met his fair share of illusionists.
To the trained eye, it was not difficult to separate an illusionist out of a crowd; they were indistinctly distinct, everywhere and nowhere at once. It had always baffled Fuuta that a person could have such an ability as to blend so seamlessly into a throng of people, yet stand out so noticably.
In his experience, an illusionist was usually the one in a group of thugs that stood aloof, keeping more to themselves, and was usually silent to the extent that Fuuta would believe them to be mute. But what Fuuta always made a mental note of was that there was always something…off… about them. Be it some sort of physical anomaly, like an odd facial marking or tattoo, or in the boy's case, a peculiar hair color, there was always something, well, not quite right about those with the gift of casting spells over one's mind. Fuuta supposed these distinctions in their characters were something of a testament to their abilities to alter one's perception of reality.
They were a mysterious and eerily unstable bunch, the illusionists. Many considered them the Illuminati in the realm of organized crime, a secret society of conniving Houdinis that worked their magic behind the scenes in the world of the Italian Mafia. Theirs was a world shrouded in dark secrets and hushed whispers; they knew and did things that people weren't supposed to be able to. As Fuuta replayed the bits and pieces of their conversation from earlier in his head, Fuuta realized that it made sense now that the boy had these abilities.
He had heard stories about more powerful illusionists occasionally being prone to fits of psychosis and nervous breakdowns because they sometimes had trouble distinguishing fantasy from reality, the real world from the worlds of their own creation. And although the boy seemed to be able to control his abilities to quite an extent for someone his age, he was still a kid…Fuuta supposed that an episode like that in an illusionist so young would frighten him (not to mention those around him) to the point of hospitalization. The idea didn't seem too far-fetched at all.
In fact, Fuuta had a feeling that that scenario was very close to the actual truth.
"It makes sense. I don't know many people with naturally bright green hair." Fuuta said around a giggle. The boy ran his wiry fingers through his pastel green locks curiously.
"I've met a few people like you before. That's how I figured it out, and I bet that's the reason why you were in that place. You didn't seem like a crazy person." Fuuta continued.
"I'm not crazy." The boy repeated quietly, more to himself than Fuuta. His mint eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at a strand of hair that had come loose in his hand. It seemed that that little utterance stirred something within the boy.
"Are you okay?" Fuuta asked worriedly when the boy remained silent for several minutes, his thin eyebrows furrowing more and more as he appeared to remember something unpleasant. It appeared that the boy was deep in thought about something. His previously lethargic and dazed demeanor due to the heavy medication had faded away. The boy was now completely lucid; his eyes still held that same half-lidded blankness, though Fuuta could almost see the metaphorical gears turning in the sharp-witted mind he was now certain this boy possessed that was so distinctive of one with his particular 'gifts.'
Fuuta waved a hand in front of the boy's face. The boy immediately snapped out of his thoughts to follow the small hand. His face regained its usual deadpanned expression and Fuuta instantaneously felt relieved. The boy's face was not one meant to harbinger such emotions as irritation and anger. In fact, it was a face that was not meant to convey any sort of emotion period.
"I can't stay here much longer." He whispered suddenly. Fuuta frowned. He knew the boy had a point, but…but what would he do to survive on his own? Fuuta felt a sort of brotherly responsbility developing in him towards this strange boy, despite the short time they had known each other.
"Please, you don't need to leave yet. You can do that illusion thing if they come back again, I'll protect you-" Fuuta stopped as the boy solemnly shook his head.
"You don't understand. They're evil people at that place, Fuuta. No one's ever gotten out of that place alive, and they'll do anything to get their patients back. You can't fool them for too long. They know that I'm here, and they'll keep coming back. They'll do bad things to you, to your family, whatever it takes to get me back. They do bad things to people there Fuuta, and…" The boy trailed off, his thin fingers tracing the edges of the bandage wrapped around his forearm.
He honestly didn't want to think about the consequences of his actions at the moment, but he knew he couldn't push them aside. This was a serious mess of trouble he had landed himself in, and he questioned himself as to why he had put himself through this. But one look at the quiet gratefulness in the boy's benevolent green eyes, and Fuuta had his answer.
The boy suddenly yawned. Right on cue, Fuuta felt all of the exhaustion he had pushed aside throughout the evening come rushing back all at once. Almost as soon as the boy closed his mouth, Fuuta's own mouth expanded in a particularly loud and exaggerated yawn. The two sat on the floor of the living room, rubbing their eyes tiredly for several minutes before Fuuta stood up, pulling the young illusionist up with him.
"We should sleep for a while. We've both had a long night and the best thing to do now is to get some rest. We'll figure everything else out later." Fuuta said quietly as he lead the boy back up the stairs towards his bedroom.
The boy said nothing in response, instead nodding silently around another stifled yawn. Once in the safety of Fuuta's bedroom, the brunette closed the door softly before running over to the opposite side of his room, quickly locking the window and drawing the blinds shut. He grabbed a spare quilt from out of his closet and laid it out on the plush carpet and tossed a couple of his fluffiest pillows towards the head of the makeshift bed.
"My bed's kinda small," he began softly as he crawled up on his own bed and wriggled under the sheets, "…so I hope you don't mind sleeping on the floor. But that quilt's really comfy, I promise." He finished quickly. But it appeared that the boy hadn't even considered the thought of sleeping on the floor the least bit repugnant. The mint-haired youth calmly sunk to his knees and let himself fall face-first into the comfort of the thick pillow and quilt Fuuta had so kindly laid out for him.
He heard a muffled, 'it's wonderful,' from the boy. Soft snores followed only minutes later.
Fuuta giggled into his hand. The boy was truly exhausted, and he deserved every ounce of rest he could possibly get. Fuuta was certain he was going to need it soon.
The sandy-haired child rolled over to lie on his back. He idly cradled his hands behind his head as he stared up at the glow-in-the-dark planets and stars on his pastel blue ceiling. One tiny piece of the puzzle was now solved.
The boy was a natural spellcaster, Fuuta knew that much. But this one tiny answer led to a multitude of new questions. Fuuta had no doubt in his mind that the boy's illusory abilities were directly linked to his status as a 'mental patient.' The question was how and why those abilities had landed him in a drug-induced coma.
How many years had the boy been asleep anyway?
Fuuta figured it was definitely over two years, if not more, simply because of the extent of the atrophy the boy's leg muscles had exhibited. What had happened all of those years ago? Did the boy suffer some sort of psychotic break? Fuuta couldn't think of many other possibilities. On the surface, the boy seemed stable enough, but Fuuta knew better than to assume. Like his father always said, 'When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.'
Fuuta chuckled softly at the odd was certainly applicable in this situation, that was for sure.
The boy was not emotionless, per se; that was evident in the ordeal they had gone through in removing that devilish device from his head. It was safe to say that the boy clearly feared for his life at that moment. And yet, even then, he seemed more alarmed than genuinely frightened. Fuuta was sure that if it had been him, he would have been screaming and crying regardless of any sort of adverse consequences.
But afterward, the boy's entire demeanor shifted to one of relative calm, and almost comical monotony. He had never met anyone with such a detached personality. The only people he personally knew of that were like that, according to his mother, were sociopaths.
Fuuta glanced over at the boy curiously.
He certainly didn't seem like a sociopath, although his classification as an illusionist required a certain level of sociopathy in order to be effective. Fuuta had seen what truly twisted and powerful illuionists were capable of.
He swallowed thickly as he returned his gaze back to his stars.
It most definitely took someone with little to no remorse to be able to get inside someone's mind, poke around in their most private fears and thoughts, and project them onto a person's surroundings, all the while watching calmly as the unfortunate victim of their illusory trickery tore themselves apart from the sheer panic.
That, to Fuuta, was far crueler than any physical harm a person could cause another person. He could understand why the orderly was so set on getting him back. He wouldn't want someone with those kinds of abilities running around by themselves either. But...
He rolled over to stare at the slumbering youth once again. The boy was nice, albeit unique. He couldn't possibly be capable of the things he had seen others like him do in the past...could he?
And what of the mysterious stranger that turned the boy loose?
Based on what the boy had told him earlier, Fuuta could infer that the person who released the boy currently snuggling a pillow not three feet from him was most likely an illusionist or some sort of spellcaster themselves.
But then…why just free him, and not run away themselves?
From what the boy had told him, as well as from what he had gathered in the orderly's visit, Osservanza was a truly hellish place. Cruel, inhumane things happened within those walls, and the staff of that devilish hospital went to great lengths to ensure that the general public remained oblivious. No one had ever escaped from there alive, and those that attempted were hunted down like animals and dragged back, clawing and scratching. Dead or alive.
No matter what the cost.
Why would someone risk getting caught in order to free someone else, without leaving themselves? What reason could there possibly be?
The questions just kept piling up in Fuuta's mind, no matter how much he willed himself to fall asleep.
Illusionists were a breed apart, alright.
Their entire existences hindered on lies and truths, riddles and puzzles, and mountains of questions that only led to dead-ends. And although it was clearly not his intention, this young mint-haired youth was proving to be just as enigmatic as his illusory counterparts.
Fuuta rubbed his face tiredly. This was all too much to contemplate at seven in the morning. He promptly rolled over, assuming the same sleeping position as the boy currently in his care, and forced himself to rest.
Fuuta's large brown eyes cracked open slowly at the soft knocking on his bedroom door. He rubbed a sleepy eye blearily as he glanced at the small digital clock on his nightstand. It was already well into the late afternoon.
"Fuuta honey, are you up?" His mother called worriedly from the other side of the door. The small boy suddenly jerked into full consciousness and sprang up from the bed. "Yes mommy, I'm awake!" He shouted back as he bent over the mint-haired youth and shook his shoulder. The boy batted his hand away and rolled over.
"Hey, come on," Fuuta whispered in his ear softly as the knocking on his door grew more persistent.
"Fuuta please! This is serious, open the door right now!" His mother shouted frantically through the door. Fuuta heard several voices downstairs. One was his father's, and he sounded angry. There were two, possibly three others down there with him. They seemed to be arguing.
Fuuta felt lightheaded all of a sudden.
He shook the boy harder. "Please wake up! I think those men are back for you!" He whispered heatedly as he jerked the boy up from the floor and hurriedly kicked the makeshift bed under his own bed.
"Wha?" The boy muttered groggily, his low voice still heavy with sleep. Fuuta rounded on him, his large eyes even wider in his urgency.
"You have to hide, those men are back for you-"
"No! You can't come up here! You have no right!" Fuuta's head snapped towards the door as he heard his mother shouting outside the door. He felt several sets of heavy footsteps storming up the small staircase, directly towards his room.
"Move aside bitch, this doesn't concern you. We're here for the boy." He heard the man from earlier bark at his mother before he heard a stinging 'slap' and a body hitting the floor.
"Mommy!" He screamed, tears immediately rushing to his eyes. He turned to the boy in fear.
"What do we do?" he hiccupped, uncontrollable sobs beginning to rack his small body. The boy was oddly placid as he stared at the door, which was being pummeled into by a large body. Once, twice, three times. The thin door began splintering in the center from the force of the man's body repeatedly smashing into it.
"Fran! We know you're in there! You must come back with us!" Fuuta heard one of the men shout. Despite himself, he couldn't help but look at the boy curiously. So his name was Fran? But that train of thought was quickly disrupted by another loud 'crack' in his door.
"I'm not going back." Fran, as he now knew the boy was named, said calmly, his small body not even flinching at the airborne slivers of wood flying off from the door.
"Of course you are, kid. You wouldn't want us to hurt your little friend and his family, would you?" The man from earlier said menacingly as part of the door finally caved open and a thick hand reached in to unlock it.
Fuuta was near hysterics. He could see the prone form of his mother just outside the large crack in his door, slumpled over on her side behind the men. The small brunette bit his finger anxiously as he slapped away the now free-falling tears from his cherubic face.
Was she alive?
He felt his breathing begin to accelerate rapidly when a he suddenly felt a light weight on his shoulder.
"Don't worry," Fran began softly, "she's alive, just unconscious." Fuuta felt a swell of relief fill his small chest.
And then the boy said something most peculiar.
"I think it's best if you were too."
And then Fuuta began to feel sickeningly dizzy. His head was spinning, and he was seeing triples of the green-haired boy as well as the battered doorway finally crashing open behind him, and several large men rushing in.
Fuuta felt nauseous.
"I could've protected you…" He muttered dazedly as he sunk to floor, his eyelids growing heavy. The triple-set of boys shook their heads.
"You already did enough for me. Now I have to save you." The boy said. His voice sounded muffled for some reason. As if he were speaking through a puddle or something. He felt as everything was suddenly moving in slow motion. Fuuta's eyelids drooped even more as he felt an immense wave of exhaustion sweep his small body.
"Please, don't…" He pleaded softly. At that moment, Fuuta felt a cool, soothing hand cover his eyes, gently coaxing his eyelids shut. The last thing he saw before his vision faded was the small, reassuring smile on Fran's pale face. "It's alright Fuuta," He heard Fran's distinctly mellow voice from amidst the shouts and barks of the orderlies, "sleep now."
As Fuuta's mind drifted into a heavy fog, he heard Fran say one last thing, his low voice tinted with a cold detachment.
"You don't need to see this."
Wow…my first officially complete multi-chapter story! *Is proud* Yay! I know the ending is sort of… abrupt, but I promise it's like that for a reason. When I write Fran's story later on, you'll understand everything that happened. I don't want to go into too much detail just yet. If I give away one little thing, it could spoil everything. So, be patient!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved, and alerted! I hope you enjoyed reading this little story. Especially Reid, who this story was written for! Love ya pal!
Don't forget to leave me a nice review if you enjoyed the story!
Okay guys, Sushi*Bomb, OUT!