"BAM! BAM!"
Two gunshots echoed through the narrow alleyways of Tokyo's Kabukichō district. The noise, being covered by the sleepless hum of neon lights and distant chaotic karaoke. In the corner of Shinjuku's red-light district, the alleys make the perfect stronghold for many dealings with different bodies or gangs.
With cigars and cigarettes in mouth and reeking a stench of cheap alcohol, two men gave a chase after a retreating figure. Their footsteps splashed the rainwater which stopped on the narrow and uneven lane, they paced through the turns and twists of the area which was filled with filth.
People wouldn't picture this when thinking about The Land of The Rising Sun.
Still running for his dear life, the figure gasped, sweated, and panted his ragged breathe of his own desperation and fear of getting caught and facing an unworthy price. His lungs were screaming for air, his mind was screaming for mercy, and his right arm was screaming in pain. The desperate figure's heavy footsteps caused him to lose all other thoughts except to keep moving. Scared that one misstep could lead him to colliding with his inevitable fear of getting caught. Scared of not being able to achieve something in life. Scared of being literal steps closer to death itself.
He wanted to live. No, he NEEDED to live. This singular thought burned a central command into his brain. It was the raw instinct of survival and a selfish one, a raw and pure instinct of selfish survival. He did not care if his worn-out clothes soaked with sweat and the rain, his long and dark hair, his aching arm, his skinny frame with scratches and a history of contusions, and his blurred vision with dark bags sagged under get in his way of slowing him down. Nothing mattered except being a good distance away from death.
"BAM!"
He felt a sudden, excruciating pain tear through his right Achilles, sending him lurching forward. A numb sensation crept up his legs— his lower half felt like it stopped existing. For a fleeting moment, his thoughts vanished blank and only the excruciating pain and anguish remained. His head banged against the nearby rusted metal pipe; blood splattered across the wet pavement, trickling down from the fresh gash on his forehead.
The echo of the shot faded, the two men finally slowed their pace as they approached the fallen figure. The Taller one who shot the bullet tucked his pistol to his pocket lazily, the shorter one stepped close to the fallen figure, crouching beside the body, eyes narrowing down at the sight of the seeping of blood from the torn ankle where the bullet pierced through and another stream trickling down from the figure's forehead where he accidentally slammed into the rusty pipe.
The shorter one stared at the horrified face and screams of pain go out and then turn into ragged, choking wheezes, which made the goon wheeze a little himself in amusement by how pathetic and ridiculous it sounded.
Christ, look at this guy. He said while shaking his head. Sounds like a broken accordion.
The taller man stepped closer, kicking off the filth aside on the ground so he could walk better.
Yeah well. He muttered lazily. Should have thought before running into places you aren't supposed to be, kid.
Better question where your parents at? You don't look older than twenty. The shorter guy who now shoved the figure's mouth into the ground so his screams can be lowered.
Being allowed to speak only made him worse — his words tumbled out in desperate broken pleas, voice trembling and engraved with fear. His raw pleas echoed through the walls of the alleyway.
Please please please! I am sorry SORRY! FORGIVE ME! I'll do ANYTHING…
Man don't give us bullshit like that. The short guy responded harshly while he shook his head.
Your bitchass knew what you were getting into… He looked at the crude tattoo on the figure's arm. Are you trying to be a gangsta or a yakuza? He snickered.
Hey Yamachi don't ya think you're being a little too harsh on the kid? The tall guy interrupted, with a sympathetic tone. The sudden shift in dynamic made the kid astonished, and he instinctively eased up a little, taking a shallow, trembling breath.
Yamachi, surprised and irritated, glanced back at Jin. Jin, are you fucking serious?
Jin shrugged lazily and spoke slowly. Come on man! That kid is screaming himself raw.
Yamachi stood up and paced near Jin which considerably made him tense.
How dare you talk back to your senior, huh? Yama growled, as he stepped one step closer. Getting a bit feisty or something stupid is goin in your retarded mind?
The kid flinched, pain sending waves through his body, and Yama's hostility even if it was not directed to him, made his heart stutter as if it wanted to stop. Yet,he refused to give in, his right leg is gone for good he knows it so damn well, but he still wants to live. He knew his life was pathetic,that he was just a wannabe. And yet, the thought of dying sent crawling waves of unease and fear in him.
Look at you, man… acting all soft now? You forget how many bodies we've left in the garbage disposal? You hesitate here, but you've done worse without blinking.
Jin tensed slightly, it was indeed hypocritical, Yama's words seemed to cut through. He tried to defend his statement.
Yama he is a kid- Yama interrupted him.
Don't ya dare give me that excuse. Didn't you hear some gang let a twelve-year-old off with their 'mercy,' that brat snitched on them. Brats these days know much more than they oughta. Yama reminded Jin. Also this one seems old enough to complain to the cops. He added.
And remember what the boss said? No witnesses, is what he said.
Yama's tone gets slightly lower. Now if you try to argue I'll snap that long neck of yours clean in half. You get me?
Jin stopped arguing and fell quiet, Yama turned away to the kid who was trying to crawl out to some corner, he managed a few inches, blood still pouring out. Yama just walked without hurry to the kid's alive corpse, and pulled out his pistol slowly, and pointed at the kid's head.
WAIT PLEASE! The kid screamed. Tears fell from his gaze, his trembling hands grabbed Yama's long coat.
PLEASE PLEASE HAVE MERCY
Black
Black?
My chest… I can still feel my chest. Wait… that's not right. I'm not supposed to feel this.
What the hell happened?
Did… did I die?
But my head, my arm, they feel like they're still mine. Nothing hurts. Nothing burns. Why am I… okay?
What the fuck is happening?