Sakurai, Part 3 (Arc Epilogue)

"Haah..." Yuuto sighed, his footsteps echoing hollowly as he left the grim scene behind.

'Focus. Think about the next step... Think what to do about-'

Abruptly, his stride faltered. A wave of nausea surged, and he doubled over, retching onto the cold, indifferent street.

'The...corpse.'

'What's this unease? You knew this day was inevitable, given what I am...'

'I ended a life. So what? It's a life no one will miss. Pull yourself together.'

He wiped his mouth, his vision swimming in disarray. The world around him seemed to spin uncontrollably.

'I need to dispose of it. Damn, I left it in the dumpster. Need to go back... How long has it been? 40 minutes?'

Struggling to his feet, Yuuto's legs trembled beneath him. He fought for balance, his mind racing.

'I'll sort it out when I return. My blood... it's there at the scene. Too many mistakes this time. I must do better... Haah...'

Yuuto hastened back to the alleyway, his steps quick and determined, a sense of urgency driving him forward. The familiar sights of the city blurred past him as he navigated the twisting streets, each turn bringing him closer to his destination.

As he rounded the final corner, his pace slowed, a sense of foreboding washing over him. The alleyway, once a scene of conflict and struggle, was now eerily quiet. The only light came from the faint, flickering embers glowing from within the dumpster – the remnants of a recent fire.

"Who..." His voice trailed off, a mixture of confusion and disbelief coloring his tone. The sight before him was unexpected, jarring.

Yuuto's eyes scanned the scene, taking in the charred marks that marred the ground around where he and Kyoya had fought. The memories of their confrontation were still fresh, yet now they seemed like distant echoes against the backdrop of this smoldering aftermath.

"...Did that?" The question hung in the air, unanswered. Yuuto stood there for a moment, his mind racing to piece together what had transpired in his rather short absence. The burning embers in the dumpster cast a weak, flickering light across his face.

-----------BACK TO THE GANG'S HANGOUT, NIGHT-TIME. SHORTLY AFTER YUUTO LEFT-------------

A man stepped into the dimly lit building, the door creaking shut behind him. The late-night silence was heavy, broken only by his steady footsteps. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, revealing a grim tableau: bodies strewn across the floor, each lying motionless, a testament to a violent struggle.

He took a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a flick of his lighter. The flame briefly illuminated his stoic face before he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "What a mess..." he muttered, surveying the scene with his keen eyes as he walked slowly, trying not to trip over any of the bodies. 

In the eerie quiet, a groan pierced the air. Kazuki, one of the downed men, stirred. Blood marred his face, and his eyes, clouded with pain and confusion, met the man's gaze. "Oh, you're awake?" the man queried casually.

"S-sei... Seichiro... H-he... took us down... H-he..." Kazuki's voice was a ragged whisper, each word a battle as he crawled toward the man.

"I can see that. How did he do it?" the man asked, his tone laced with a detached curiosity.

"Knives... objects... fists... B-...Baseball bat... H-he was... like a pro..." Kazuki's breaths were labored, his words punctuated by pain.

The man chuckled softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "A baseball bat, huh? A pro? Who was he, Babe Ruth?" His mockery was dry, his eyes as uninterested as those of a dead fish, betraying no emotion beyond the brief, hollow chuckle.

"K-Kyoya... is in danger... Help... him... Kyoya was... working on a..." Kazuki's hands clutched desperately at the man's ankles, his head bowed in a plea for mercy.

As Kazuki tried to speak further, the sharp scent of gasoline filled his senses. He slowly raised his head, his eyes widening at the sight of the canister in the man's hand.

"...Well, this is awkward," Seichiro remarked, his voice dripping with nonchalance as he caught Kazuki's alarmed gaze. Without a flicker of hesitation, he swung the can, striking Kazuki. The man collapsed once more, his consciousness slipping away into darkness.

As Seichiro uncapped the can of gasoline, its contents sloshed rhythmically. He methodically doused the bodies, the sharp, acrid scent cutting through the stale air. The gasoline shimmered on the floor, the faint moonlight seeping through dirt-streaked, iron-barred windows lending an eerie luminescence to the scene.

"Would you have been able to put him back on the king's road, Hikari?" Seichiro mused aloud, the smoke from his cigarette curling into the oppressive air. "You see, I'm just too tired to think about that. No more room in my head."

The silence hung heavy, his words dissipating into the void.

"Like I said, it's not that simple. I'm in this life, after all. There's nothing I can do. The only hope we both had was you. And you ain't here anymore. That's my reasoning."

He sighed, the sound lost amidst the steady pouring of gasoline and the steady rhythm of his own breaths.

"I know what you're gonna say. I just can't. It ain't a matter of want or not, I just can't. It ain't me."

A brief pause, a moment of contemplation.

"Try, you say?" He scoffed. "Nah."

"Even if I do figure something out... What does it matter if you're not there?"

The can was nearly empty now, the last of the 18 men shrouded in the liquid.

"Two must've escaped... Oh well. They won't be able to do much damage," he muttered, almost to himself, as he made his way to the exit.

Tossing the cigarette onto the gasoline-soaked floor, Seichiro replaced the steel bar, sealing the door from the outside. The night enveloped him, swallowing his form as he disappeared into the shadows. Behind him, the building stood silent, a tomb awaiting its fiery consummation.

"Didn't it occur to him that these scum could have friends in the police...? Or maybe he was just too hotheaded to consider it...? Oh well. Easier for me to finish them off."

-----LATER THAT DAY. NOON-----------

Dark clouds covered the sky, casting long shadows across the alleyway as Seichiro arrived. The little sunrays escaping through the small gapes in the cloud-bed have done little to brighten the gloomy space. He immediately noticed signs of a recent struggle: blood marks and splatters staining the wet concrete, telling a silent, violent story.

Following the crimson trail, he found himself at a dumpster. With a resigned sense of inevitability, he lifted the lid. Inside lay Kyoya, unconscious, his body a stark contrast against the dumpster's grim interior. Seichiro checked for a pulse and breath – Kyoya was alive, but just barely.

He sighed deeply, a sound of frustration and disdain. "Always making things difficult," he muttered under his breath.

Seichiro picked up a metal bar lying nearby. His movements were methodical, almost mechanical, as he brought the bar down onto Kyoya's head, splitting it open. The act was carried out with a dead-eyed stare, devoid of any visible emotion. "No more screaming from you..." he whispered to himself, as if justifying the deed.

He then poured gasoline into the dumpster, the liquid cascading over Kyoya's still form. Striking a match, he tossed it in, the flames quickly engulfing the interior. Seichiro watched for a moment, ensuring the fire took hold, before turning his attention to the blood marks outside.

Methodically, he poured more gasoline over the traces of the fight, obliterating the evidence with fire. Each flame flickered in his emotionless gaze, reflections of a man who had crossed into a realm far removed from normalcy.

As the last of the bloodstains succumbed to the flames, Seichiro walked away, leaving the alleyway behind. The fire crackled in his wake, a grim testament to the finality of his actions.

--------------LATER THAT VERY DAY--------------

Late at night, in the dimly lit alleyway where shadows clung to the walls like specters, Miki stood, her figure drenched in sweat. Her eyes darted nervously, reflecting the flickering streetlights. Anxiety was etched into her every movement as she faced the group of suspicious men gathered near the charred remains of the building Seichiro had burned.

"He said his name was Anti-NTR Man..." Miki's voice trembled as she relayed the information, her hands wringing together.

One of the men leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "Is that all you got?" he asked, his tone implying a threat more than a question.

Miki nodded rapidly, a cascade of affirmation. "I would never lie to you," she insisted, her loyalty tinged with a hint of fear after she described Yuuto's appearance and demeanor with utmost accuracy.

The men exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, one turned back to her, a semblance of approval on his face. "Good job," he said, tossing her a small bag. "Here."

Miki's reaction was immediate. She crouched; almost leaped to grab the bag from the dirty asphalt ground. She inhaled deeply from the bag, the contents—a white powder—seeming to provide her an instant... High. Her lower torso began soaking wet while her knees gave as she gazed upon the bag as she would once gaze upon her boyfriend - with utmost admiration and affection. She huffed and puffed restlessly, her breaths heavier and longer as a tomato-red blush filled her face.

The men's conversation shifted, their voices low but intense, indifferent to Miki's reaction "Kazuki was running this drug business on the side, wasn't he? He didn't let Kyoya in on it... Ahh... Always fooling around, never bothered to provide detailed reports on its effects," one grumbled.

"Yeah, and now this... What was his name, you said?" one man asked, his voice laced with curiosity and concern.

"-ANTI-NTR MAN..." Miki managed to say, her voice trailing off.

"Thank you, that guy. What's with that name? NTR? Cuckoldry? Does he know about our operations...?" The man's brow furrowed in thought.

"Could be... Could be someone tied to the girls Kazuki blackmailed. He had a penchant for the taken ones. Maybe a vengeful boyfriend. Miki, do you have a boyfriend?"

Miki's response was disjointed, but clear enough. "It wasn't him... Miyano's too timid... That guy was stronger. Maybe Miyano hired him..." Not a shred of regret or patience in her tone, as she indulges herself with the bag as her genital dripples wet through her clothes.

"Alright, we'll add this Miyano to our list for interrogation. He has a mother, right? We'll use that against him if he feels like resisting."

Miki didn't respond, merely nodding in agreement. Her attention wholly consumed by the bag in her hands.

"We'll have to check all their boyfriends... This is turning into a real headache," one man muttered.

"We can't let Mr. Hibiki get wind of this mess," another added with a sigh.

The conversation shifted, focusing on the pressing issue. "We still need those reports on the drug's effects. Kazuki never sent us anything useful."

Suddenly, Miki's eyes lit up with a twisted eagerness. "I-I can volunteer!"

The ringleader shook his head. "Your enthusiasm is noted, Miki, but we need someone... uninitiated. Someone who doesn't know what they're in for."

One of the men looked at Miki with a lustful, uninhibited gaze. "We could still use her for... other purposes."

Her response was disturbingly enthusiastic. "Y-YES, I'LL DO IT..!!" Her face blushed as if she had received the best Christmas present she could ever have asked for. Her face gleamed warmth and content.

"Yeah, fine, you're in," the man conceded with a wave of his hand. Miki went and stood in the behalf of the man who suggested it with a blissful smile.

The third man then suggested, "What about letting the new recruit handle the testing? He's keen to show what he can do. I hear he's only a highschooler, right?"

The ringleader exhaled heavily, a mix of resignation and caution in his voice. "They do start young... Fine, but let's make sure the product is perfected first. No sense in ruining the kid's experience with something half-baked."

The other man nodded. "Agreed. And besides, this whole setback might be a sign. The boss hates when things are rushed, as we all know."

As they spoke, the night seemed to grow darker around them, the moral lines blurring further in the shadows of the alley. The air was thick with unsaid words and unspoken plans, each more sinister than the last.

ARC 2 END.

VOLUME 1: First Base - END.

VOLUME 2: Second Base - START.

TO BE CONTINUED...