A Cold Hearts - The Laughing Man

The bald psycho is running toward me. He's holding some kind of club.

A direct confrontation = I'm a dead man. Quickly scanning my surroundings, I decide to run behind a tree—this way, I'll have an easier time dodging his attacks.

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT RUNNING!" — the man in the suit shouts, barely holding back his laughter.

He rushes right up to the tree and starts swinging the club aggressively, trying to hit me. I didn't expect him to be this fast.

I don't understand how, but I managed to dodge most of his attacks—except the last one. He lands a blow on my shoulder. The force of the hit is so powerful that it nearly breaks my arm. The unbearable pain makes me lose balance instantly, and I collapse to the ground, losing my cover.

"That's it? Thousands of kilometers for such a weakling?" He bursts into hysterical laughter.

"Heh… First, I'll drain every last bit of strength out of you, every ounce of your will to live… Ha-ha..."

While this psycho is busy enjoying the sound of his own voice, I finally realize what kind of stick he's holding.

A telescopic baton. I've seen them in movies, but I never imagined how much pain such a compact weapon could cause. I have no chance against him while he's armed.

The crazy man in the suit starts hitting the ground near my feet. He's striking at an incredible speed—if he were trying to hit me, I doubt I'd be able to dodge.

Suddenly, the insane grin on his face disappears, and his expression turns neutral. He lowers both his baton and his head. His voice takes on a somber, almost sorrowful tone.

"You know… Don't think I'm crazy." Yeah, sure, buddy.

"I'm just a normal person. I tell them: 'Hi, my name is Hiroto.'"Every time, I say that. I have a name, Hiroto. But they don't listen. They're afraid of me, they don't talk to me. And you know what they call me behind my back? Killy."

"For a long time, I refused to accept it, but... Now, I even like it. I'm Killy… Ha… Ha-ha…"

"I'M KILLY! AHAHAHA! NICE TO MEET YOU, ISAO! AHAHAHA!"

After those words, Killy raises the telescopic baton again and lunges toward me.

I have one chance. Before he can land another hit, I muster all my strength and kick him with both legs in the left knee.

Killy loses his balance and falls onto his back. He drops the baton and grabs his knee. His eerie laughter turns into quiet, pain-filled groans.

I barely have time to get up before Killy suddenly jumps to his feet and turns toward the baton that rolled away from him.

I can't let him grab it. I rush toward him, grab his shoulders, spin him around, and slam him back onto the ground.

From this position, I can clearly see his face. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. His face is completely covered in small, barely visible scars. Both of his eyes are hidden behind white, opaque lenses, and his mouth twists into a grotesque, grinning grimace.

It feels like I'm not looking at a human. Not even at a gangster's hired thug. I'm staring into the eyes of pure evil. A demon.

My thoughts are interrupted when Killy punches me in the stomach. Using the momentum, he shoves me away and gets back on his feet. I barely managed to stand after that powerful hit.

I'm exhausted. My heart is pounding from the adrenaline. Sweat is pouring down my face. My breath is ragged.

But Killy just stands there calmly, staring into my eyes, waiting for me to make a move. Like a predator stalking its prey.

BAM-BAM-BAM…

A series of blows snap me out of my thoughts. I don't even see them coming. I stagger backward, raising my arms to protect my head, but the hits don't stop. He's striking everywhere at once—my face, my liver, my legs.

I try to create some distance, just like Coach Namura taught me, but as soon as I attempt to push him away, I leave myself open. Killy lands a punch straight to my nose.

For a moment, everything goes dark, and I collapse to the ground again.

He doesn't even need a weapon. He's just stronger than me. Faster than me. But I don't want to lose. I can't lose like this.

"AAAAGH!" — I scream hysterically.

"AHAHAHAHA! POOR THING!" Killy kneels beside me.

"You know… Heh-heh… No one will remember you. Even I… In a couple of days, I'll forget how I killed you… Ha…"

He picks up his baton.

*A hit* My vision darkens even more.

*Another hit* I can't move. This must be the end.

"Lia…"

I wish I could smell her hair one more time. See her waiting for me outside her house, smiling.

Just as I'm about to lose consciousness, I hear shouting behind Killy.

"Step away from the kid."

I recognize that voice. Coach Kojo.

Killy glances at Kojo but only smirks. Then he turns back to me.

A hit. Everything goes dark.

I open my eyes. Killy is standing near me, facing Coach Namura.

Killy attacks the coach. The older man, despite his size, effortlessly parries every blow from the lightning-fast opponent. He blocks several rapid strikes—ones I wouldn't even see coming. For his height and build, the coach moves at an astonishing speed.

Killy just keeps laughing and swinging.

"Enough," Kojo suddenly shoves him back. The push is so strong and unexpected that I almost feel the ground shake beneath me, and Killy flies at least five meters away.

The grin disappears from Killy's face. He gets up, and for a moment, they silently stare at each other. Then, Killy's eyes meet mine.

"You got lucky."

With those words, Killy vanishes into the dark forest. I swear I can hear distant echoes of laughter from the direction he ran.

The coach kneels down to check on me. My consciousness is still slipping away.

BAM-BAM.

A couple of slaps from Uncle Kojo bring me back to my senses.

"Kid, I need you to stay with me."

The coach walks to his car and returns with a first aid kit. The next few minutes pass in silence, broken only by my groans as he treats my wounds.

"Coach… Aunt Tomo… We need to check on her…" Kojo's look instantly changed to a worried one.

"Get up." He puts my arm over his shoulder and helps me stand. The pain intensifies, but gritting my teeth, I manage to get up.

We enter the house. Aunt Tomo is unconscious on her bed. The coach rushes to her side.

"She's breathing." He examines her carefully.

"He poisoned her. I know someone at the hospital—I'll call him now."

Aunt Tomo… I'm so relieved that bastard didn't kill her, but…This is all my fault. I brought this trouble to her. How naive I was to think they wouldn't find me. What an idiot.

"They're on their way to take her to the hospital. She'll be okay..."

"Coach… I tried, I didn't give up until the end, but I still couldn't win…" I lower my head.

"Listen, kid. That man was far stronger than you. You're lucky to even be breathing right now. I know you took a beating and need to recover, but we don't have time. You're too weak, and if someone attacks you again and I'm not there… you'll die, Isao."

"Why were you here today?"

"I told you—I was visiting Tomo. Wanted to surprise her. You see… Your aunt and I... It's a long story."

"I'm not in a hurry," I say, glancing at my wounds.

The coach told me that Tomo was his long-time love, someone he had been in a relationship with many years ago. However, his obsession with training young fighters and perfecting combat techniques consumed all of his time and energy. He became so focused on his work that he neglected her, failing to give their relationship the attention it needed. In the end, they made the painful decision to part ways. 

As Kojo finished telling a story, the flashing lights of an ambulance appeared outside the house. Two paramedics, dressed in red-and-white uniforms, quickly entered. Without wasting any time, they examined Aunt Tomo and carefully lifted her onto a stretcher. As they carried her outside, one of them handed me a small slip of paper with the hospital's address. "We're taking her to the city hospital," they informed me before loading her into the ambulance. Then, without another word, the vehicle pulled away, leaving me lying there, clutching the piece of paper in my trembling hands.

"Rest up, Isao. See you at the gym tomorrow. Call me if anything happens." said Coach and also left the house.

I'm alone.

Aunt Tomo is in the hospital. That laughing lunatic is still roaming somewhere in these woods. And here I am—broken, battered, and completely alone in this godforsaken shack. I wish I could make a joke about it, but honestly, there's nothing even remotely funny about this situation. All I feel is overwhelming fear, creeping into my bones with every passing second.

The coach was right—I'm weak. I need to rest. 

I close my eyes, ignoring the pain. And almost instantly the phone rings.

Is it a coach? Maybe he forgot something?

I managed to get up and answer the phone.

"Hello. Isao, is that you?"

My heart skipped a beat as I heard a familiar voice.

"Isao, please answer. It's Lia."

'