Heartburn (Itsuki, Yaya, Mentions of Momo)
Itsuki had his back against a building’s wall in a Forbidden Zone. A bright yellow day. The heat seemed to boil his mind into a delirious state, as blood came out of the back of his head, the top of his forehead.
Bruises on his knees, a nasty purple back on his ribs, alongside a knife that nearly slipped past his ribcage.
His breath still came out of his nose, but it was like the steam coming out of a dying engine. There were five people around him, with more gathering in the surroundings.
Their faces blurred and darkened, like a twisting, churning darkness that threatened to assume the face of the thing Itsuki feared the most.
When did things escalate to that? Why did they never seem to get better?
Despite Momo taking him to ramen, he still felt lost.
No, it was not enough. Lost? An understatement.
He felt overwhelmed, devoured by the world around him.
Itsuki heard the faint, eardrum-rupturing laughs of someone from his past. Her laughter was still fresh as ever in his mind, but it shouldn’t be possible.
It has been three years, then why did he still hear her?
He didn’t know, but her laughter frightened him with the most intense fright he had ever heard in his life.
Itsuki fought against the clock, and it seemed that time in his life was running out.
From his back, blood came out.
He was stabbed in the back and jumped by what he thought were thugs.
Right as he got out of his “home” too.
It seemed there were no safe places for him anymore. Not even his hideout was safe it seemed.
He was tired.
It all went spiraling when she decided to die and leave him alone.
It was her fault.
Her fault… this hell.
He shouldn’t blame her.
No… she would never do that to him.
It was his fault. Yes. HIS FAULT.
NOT HERS.
Then WHY did he feel this pain?
Why did this hollowing feeling never leave him?
Why did his pain flare up so much? Why did he feel so much hatred towards her then?
What was the meaning of his emotions in the end? To whom were they aimed?
The numbness in his body seemed to fade as his blood leaked out of his body.
That suffering might have suited him just right. A pathetic little creature that never forgot his friend’s warmth, nor her feelings.
At the edge of his view, on the reflection of his body spilled on the sidewalk, he saw her reflection.
His heart burned up with dismay. He wanted to shy away, crawl into a hole, and die; the crushing despair in his chest made him want to die even more.
Why was she there?
Her face was right there, on his blood. She was laughing.
Was it fun for her to watch him suffer? Why was his friend smiling at his hell? Could she even be called a friend after everything she made him go through for her?
A part of him wanted to hold on to that, that she was still his friend. That she mattered, but the more primal part of him wanted to burst in rage. How could she laugh at him? Mock him after everything was said and done?
His body trembled, hot breath came out of his mouth, and his blue eyes suddenly got a tint of animalistic rage in them.
He has been fighting for years.
Despite the many new faces he saw, why did hers never fade away?
He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget her; he wanted to forget himself.
But every time he heard her laugh, saw her reflection, an outrage flared up inside his burning soul.
Itsuki will find ways to survive; he will face this hell, no matter how much more time passes.
He will crack the code one day with his bloodied fingers. He refused to give up now, after he experienced so much pain.
Even surrounded, he would fight. He got up. As his assailants stared in fear at the bloodied image before them.
“I have fought so much that it doesn’t hurt.” He picked the knife out of one of them and plunged it deep into their belly. As they stared at him, like a zombie.
An undead creature.
Even as the world stopped making sense, and her laughing face was stitched onto their faces, he would face this hell, as Itsuki’s face the Devil in his heart, manifested, and her echoed laughter inside his brain.
He will kill them all, and go to school, as his Fate keeps on telling him: Today he will die.
Itsuki’s whole being was filled with a sentiment hard to put into words. An angst, a pulsating, breathing thing that slithed between his ribs and organs.
It made school unbearable. The halls melted into each other. Everything felt it was about to melt in one ugly goo. People were like gummies.
Sticky gummies with sticks, hair, filthy, all nastiness he could imagine glued to them.
It felt nauseating. The courses felt like they could kill him. Boring mathematics.
What was the teacher’s problem?
Itsuki looked lost.
Itsuki was not paying attention.
He was daydreaming
He was! He just had things on his mind! He had too many thoughts crammed in his mind at that moment. So what was the problem if he couldn’t answer every question, solve every problem the teacher threw at him unprepared?
He had the answer to the exercises and problems in his notebook.
He was doing his part. Why couldn’t the teacher do his and leave him alone, just finish the lecture?
He looked so smug, too, like he had any sort of power over Itsuki. Like his fate was on his hands.
It took every ounce of self-control for Itsuki not to snap him like a twig. Actually, his hands itched for the taste of blood. See how that smug turned out when he faced violence.
As far as Itsuki knew, that teacher would always go home using the metro. Maybe Itsuki could give him a “hello”, knock him around a little.
See how smug he will be when his teeth fall out of his face.
It was so infuriating that Itsuki felt like he could bite out his own tongue.
Worse of it all, the crux of all his problems this day.
Another day.
A n o t h e r day, he has n o t FOUND HIM
Why?
Why couldn’t things align ONCE?
Words caught in his throat.
No. They were no longer words, just low growls.
He scrapped his tongue against his teeth, and he scratched his fingertips against the skin of his thumb.
His chest trembled. He felt the burn in his lungs. The tremors inside his head, as if it is ready to go off in his head.
Like a bloodhound, Itsuki sought trouble. Anything to infuriate him. Anything to make his anger feel worse. Anything to make him lose control. He wanted that feeling to feel validated.
The craving for validation motivated him to ease this rage. Rationalize it, direct it to something.
His eyes darted as he heard a laugh. A group of students, girls and boys, were laughing. Soon, he saw the perfect victims.
They looked so carefree.
For a moment, their attention fell on him; they stopped laughing for a moment and then laughed again.
Were they laughing at him?
Itsuki’s jaw shook, the rage burbled to the surface, as he saw one boy and a girl in the group hold hands.
It must have been nice to have someone.
Friends who helped them when they needed them the most.
It felt nice, didn’t it?
Itsuki scoffed. He had none of those pleasantries.
The only person he had was Momo.
And even she was getting fed up with him.
Itsuki wondered if that group dynamic would hold if one of them died?
They would still be friends? Would they still support their friend who just lost their boy or girlfriend?
His body moved, like he was going to get in a fight with thugs or Yakuza. He wanted to test that theory of his.
The self-restrained part of himself works over time to hold the reins with all of its strength. Suddenly, Itsuki shook his head. Reality normalized a little.
His breath was ragged, he sweated, and his shirt was drenched.
What was he even doing?
Oh alright. He was going to another class.
Wait, it was not right.
Was he going to the Bohemian Club?
No.
That bitch.
That bitch made him worse.
She made him remember how much of a bloody failure he was, and how she didn’t care about him at all.
She still chose suicide over him.
Itsuki pursed his lips. He pursed them so hard that they split open, like a dryland’s ground.
He wouldn’t be coming back to that hellhole.
No.
Know what?
He should skip school today. Jumping over the gate was no trouble.
That was what he would do.
Fuck school today.
He had no patience for anything.
Itsuki rushed through the corridors. He power walked all the way through, just a single misstep away from breaking into full-on sprinting.
A brown smudge walked past him. Itsuki ignored it and continued to walk forward.
It walked past him again and refused to move out. Itsuki’s walk moved it out of the way without him even noticing.
It appeared a third time and refused to move. ‘This is getting annoying.’ His heart started to race.
What was its problem?
Why did it try so much to get on his way?
“Kusanagi-san, stop!” The smudge shouted. Suddenly, his eyes focused on her, and the smudge’s form was clear now.
Sadly, he had no time to entertain Mihama with a talk. “Sorry, Mihama, I don’t have the time today.”
“Kusanagi-san, students said you were… eyeing them violently, and acting erratically. Professor Touno from the 3rd year also said you were slacking off. The Student Council wants to question you, see if everything is al-” Itsuki walked past her, again.
Itsuki. H A D
NO
Patien ce.
She walked past him again and opened her arms.
Like a barrier.
“Kusanagi-san, I am not done-”
“Buzz off. I am not in the mood today. Get out of the way.” Itsuki grabbed her by her left hand and pushed her aside, before storming out of the school.
He didn’t look back.
He didn’t see the nasty purple bruise his hand left on her wrist, a swelling, ugly thing.
How she looked scared at his back, nor how she sobbed and cried in pain.
After that, the world became a red blur.
He did things, but he didn’t know if it was him who did it or some other entity controlling his body.
He said words that were not his own.
“Freak? I am free.” His lips moved without his input, as a boy ran to him holding a metal pipe.
Itsuki held it easily as the pipe swung towards him, and yanked it from the boy’s hand, and smashed it against his head.
The pipe bent.
“You are insane!” Another one shouted. He aimed a punch at him. Itsuki smiled at how naive he was in attacking him that way.
He didn’t want to smile, but he did anyway.
He left the punch on his face.
Right against his mouth.
Itsuki opened his mouth wide and bit onto the boy’s fingers. Chunks of his finger, alongside a portion of his middle and ring fingers, were taken out. Before he could as much as scream in pain, Itsuki grabbed him by the head and pushed him down.
Itsuki’s knee rose to meet the boy’s jaw.
Flesh ruptured and muscles snapped with wet sounds as, as bone bent into shape it should never have bent. The boy was taken down from the count.
“You are afraid.” Itsuki scoffed, tossing the boy’s body to the side.
A lid flew towards his head, as a cut was made, his white hair was stained red with his own blood.
“You are a monster! What you did to Yaya was unjustifiable, and now you do this!? How can someone be so sick in the head?” A girl shouted. She was painting, her eyes full of hatred, her expression contorted into outrage.
Itsuki touched his hair; it was wet and cold.
His heart swelled with inflammation, his eyes focused on her, as she gave a bloodied smile, the chunks of flesh and bone of her friend’s finger still on Itsuki’s mouth.
Itsuki gave her no time and advanced. However, the girl was quick on her feet and turned to run away.
As she gave her first step, Itsuki grabbed her by the air and yanked her; he brought her whole body to him. She punched, scratched, and tried to kick him away.
Itsuki just tightened his hold on her hair and raised his other hand.
He punched.
The first punch broke her nose.
He landed the second punch.
It ruptured her lips.
Then the third, which purpled one of her eyes.
And the next. Her other eye was purple.
He punched her, again, and again. She tried to scream, but her voice was gurgled in her own blood, she tried to struggle, but Itsuki took the choice from her, as he kept punching.
Until her body stopped moving. Feeling no movement, Itsuki dropped her like a discarded toy.
His face twisted into one of hatred.
One of despise.
“You have no idea what I have been through. Far worse than you can imagine.”
Itsuki laughed and turned away, yet a part of his mind felt like a prisoner inside his own body.
Until someone called his attention. “It seems I am late. You made more victims…” A deep, booming voice echoed from behind him.
Itsuki turned on his feet immediately and seized his foe.
Tall, wide, built like a mountain. A worthy adversary.
Ran Nejima.
The Hall Monitor of the Student Council looked at the violence. A boy with a shattered jaw, his breath ragged and unsteady, while another one bled from his head, his body not moving at all. Meanwhile, a girl was on the ground, tears mixed with blood ran down her unrecognizable face.
Disgust crawled up Nejima’s spine. He expected that from a creature of the Idea World. From the vilest of the yakuza, but the man before him had the face of an angel.
But it seemed he was worse than demons.
In those blue eyes, he saw naught but the purest form of violence, like a never-ending maelstrom of hurt and damage. He felt sick just from staring into his eyes.
Nejima clenched his fists, as every hair on his body stood up, his blood burning with righteous rage and outrage at the monster before him.
He was told to retrieve Itsuki, so they could analyze and decide what punishment would befall him.
The demon snarled. Nejima felt the bloodlust irradiating from him, a thing so pure that it made part of his mind wary; that foe was not normal.
He trusted his gut, and it told him this was not a fight to take, but Nejima had his duty, his honor as Student Council Member of Higan, and looking at the state of the girl…
She was still conscious and in extreme pain.
His pride as a man would never allow Itsuki to get away with this.
Veins jumped on his face, as his spirit flared up to tackle that psychopath on the ground.
The demon that smiled and laughed, like he had found a new plaything, a new toy to discharge his rage onto. An outlet for all of his stress and misery.
“Do you want their special too?” Itsuki taunted as he spat out the chunks of flesh from his mouth.
It was phrased as a question, but Itsuki had no intention of letting Nejima escape.
“I planned to bring you back to the Student Council to face punishment, but it seems I will need to take you to the cops.”
Nejima stared deeply into Itsuki’s eyes.
He took the measure of the man before him.
He saw nothing but hatred and spite. A creature born of malice and hurt.
He would not hold back against Itsuki.
Like two forces of nature colliding, they advanced against each other.
Itsuki as an unstoppable, unrelenting force, and Nejima as an immovable object.
They both started the battle with feints. Nejima with a jab with one hand, while the other followed with an uppercut.
Itsuki tried to land a punch on Nejima, but in truth, he prepared himself to kick.
Both missed, as their instincts told them to get out of the way, that their blows wouldn’t land.
In that instant, both fighters realized that using dirty tricks that relied on strategy wouldn’t work on each other. They were not that type of fighters.
It would just needlessly extend the fight.
Nejima needed to catch that freak and send him to jail.
Itsuki wanted to rip Nejima apart.
In that moment, both fighters decided it was time to give their all.
They rushed against each other again, but this time, no dirty tricks in their minds.
Itsuki’s fist landed on Nejima’s face, as Nejima’s fist also landed on his.
Itsuki felt his bones crack, like he had punched a wall of steel.
Nejima’s resilience was supernatural.
Strength alone could not defeat Nejima, Itsuki realized.
Meanwhile, Nejima’s eyes widened as Itsuki hadn’t felt the punch at all, his body didn’t even move or show any reaction to being punched.
Like he had punched a corpse.
Itsuki scanned the scenario.
Nejima was not a foe that strength alone could overcome.
He needed more.
Sadly, Nejima didn’t give him time to think.
He followed with another punch to Itsuki’s face. He put his whole body’s momentum in it, which forced even Itsuki to move two steps back.
A small, but exploitable gap in Itsuki’s posture.
Nejima opened his arms, clenched his fists extra hard, and threw both hands against the sides of Itsuki’s face, like two hammers against a pinhead.
That impact would knock out anyone else, and let the few that could endure it dizzied.
However, it was as if Itsuki hadn’t felt the impact.
Nor was he dizzied. Rather, he smiled, bloodied, this time his own blood. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, like a creature fueled by pain.
Itsuki pounced on Nejima, headbutted him, and then tried to bite off his face. Nejima landed both hands on Itsuki’s shoulders and pushed him, but Itsuki tried to chew out his face with even greater vigor.
Meanwhile, Itsuki’s hand punched Nejima’s sides. Right below his ribcage, on his solar plexus, on places where there weren’t any bones to shield his flesh.
Areas where it was easier to bruise and hurt. Nejima gritted his teeth at the determined violence of Itsuki. Each time Itsuki’s punch landed on him, the sound of bones cracking echoed.
But each punch was stronger than the last.
Yet something changed. Nejima saw Itsuki change his attention for a split second.
Whatever caught his attention was not something Nejima wanted Itsuki to use against him, or an even bigger threat.
So Nejima fought for control, to push Itsuki away, yet, rather than continue the attack, ITsuki changed gears, he fought against Nejima, a struggle of a dancer for control.
They walked through the alleyway.
Until Nejima had had enough. He gritted his teeth and pushed Itsuki against a wall, using his whole body like a battering ram.
This time, even Itsuki felt it as air escaped his lungs.
Another gap for Nejima to exploit.
He picked up Itsuki by the hair and crotch and lifted him up. Itsuki struggled, but Nejima contained him and then threw him to the ground like a bag of potatoes.
Itsuki fell with his back against the concrete. He gasped audibly and stopped moving. His eyes rolled up.
Nejima sighed in relief. It seemed he had run, and that Itsuki wouldn’t get up after that one
Nejima picked up his student council phone and prepared to dial in Shu’s number. He would need healers for those students. They were truly messed up.
Meanwhile, Itsuki rolled his eyes back.
His stunt worked. However, he had only a fraction of a second before Nejima noticed he did not pass out.
His body fell near the metal lid that had hit his head. He picked it up and threw it up. Meanwhile, he ripped a whole strip and chunk out of his shirt, and jumped towards Nejima.
Like Itsuki thought, Nejima had already noticed him. Itsuki wrapped the cloth around Nejima’s neck, went behind him, and tightened it against Nejima’s neck, choking him.
Nejima tried to struggle; his bulkier stature made him quite a challenge to control. He slammed ITsuki against the wall multiple times, but Itsuki didn’t release him. He kept the choke going, refusing to let Nejima escape, or tightening the cloth too much to the point it snapped.
He would not repeat this mistake again.
Itsuki looked up and saw the lid coming down, and so did Nejima, who extended a hand to grab it. However, Itsuki had a plan. He took one hand from the cloth and used his teeth to hold it in place, and with his now freed hand, he grabbed the metal lid instead.
He started to bludgeon Nejima’s head without a single thought of remorse or hesitation. He choked and bludgeoned him, and kept going until the fight in Nejima started to die, the air supplied to his lungs ending, and his head became dizzy due to the multiple hits he endured.
Itsuki kept going, despite his body being slammed and taken around by Nejima, who wouldn’t stand down without a hell of a fight.
This rodeo continued for several minutes.
Until even Nejima’s bulky body couldn’t resist, and fell on the ground, with Itsuki on top of him.
Itsuki quickly got up and stomped on Nejima’s head multiple times. He was taking no chances of the big guy getting up.
With a heavy breath, he stumbled out of the alleyway like a zombie. Even his own endurance had limits.
They had reached today.
Meanwhile, a life-sundering scream echoed from deep within Itsuki’s soul.