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Dark, gray clouds hung on the stark black sky. The rain stopped from pouring, leaving the empty pavements diasgreeably wet and musty. It was not a place meant for anyone, especially for Midorima Shintarou, who lied on his stomach on the cold cement—eyeglasses broken and askew, lower lip busted, blood trickling from his broken nose.
It was even more uncharacteristic for Takao Kazunari to be standing - bending towards Midorima, his hands grabbing his green mop of hair.
"Yo, Shin-chan."
They say when you have been a part of a famiglia, there’s no going out.
Midorima glared at Takao, all of his anger, hurt, and resentment focused in the intensity of his eyes.
"Heeh? We haven’t seen each other since our graduation and this is how you greet me? That’s so bad of you, Shin-chan." He pulled out his smile - the kind of smile that Midorima was so used to see, that actually seeing it right here, right now, was so hideous that it made him want to vomit in disgust.
"Stop calling me like that, Takao," He spat out and gritted his teeth. He was sure he was beaten up all over, and aside from his broken nose, his arms might actually need some serious medical attention. After spending almost every day of their lives together in college, it didn’t really surprise him if ever Takao knew his weaknesses. If only he was able to pull out his gun a second earlier than him, then he could have avoided this nasty situation.
Takao looked surprised, but Midorima thought he was just playing it. “Eh?” Smiling, he stopped grasping Midorima’s hair and ruffled it instead. “Shin-chan, you didn’t change at all…”
Silence prevailed in the dank pavement, but the echoes of a body being brutally punched and kicked, a thigh being shot with a gun, and arms being broken resounded clearly in Midorima’s head.
He gritted his teeth.
"Are you enjoying this?" Midorima asked, words that he ought to be released with anger now laced with control. He wouldn’t break out right now, even if he’s already physically broken. He needed answers to his questions, questions which have been pestering him since that day.
The day when Takao’s shadow suddenly disappeared, and became someone else’s.
"You hurt everyone in the famiglia." He added. You hurt me. He thought bitterly.
"You guess, Shin-chan. You’re the lucky guy here, right?" Takao sat on his calves and lifted Midorima’s chin, and he inched his face closer to him. "They say being lucky is a skill," Takao mulled on, tilting Midorima’s face to the right. "So maybe you’ll know."
Midorima stared in Takao’s eyes.
"It has nothing to do with it right now," Midorima spat out, the control already slipping away. "Enough of your games! You’re making me sick."
Takao laughed at Midorima’s annoyance. “Your temper’s really easy to tap, Shin-chan. Well, let me tell you one thing…” He grabbed Midorima’s hair again and tugged on it, his lips almost touching the lobes of Midorima’s ear. “I was never part of the famiglia.”
Midorima’s eyes snapped open, and he forced himself to face him. “What did you—?!”
Takao aggressively let go of Midorima, and he rested his wrists on his knees. “Since the beginning, we’ve always been part of different famiglias. I’m not Shutoku’s. I’m something else’s.”
He looked at Midorima intently, his gray eyes as dull as the dissipating clouds. “I’ve never been your shadow, Midorima.”
Midorima’s dry lips hung agape as he let Takao’s words sink in his brain. So, those times when the two of them met in a gang war and won, and slowly made their way in Shutoku since the very first day… when they carried out the famiglia’s dreams through consecutively successive missions… when they supported each others’ backs when they were in the brink of death… those were all…?
"I’m sorry to break this out to you, pal."
Takao’s sarcastic voice drew Midorima’s eyes towards him, and he knew he wasn’t imagining things.
Despite Takao’s words, Midorima saw through him—somehow, it’s as if Takao was sincerely apologizing. At least, through all those years, Midorima knew that much.
Until now, Takao was still the Takao he knew back then.
A smirk crossed on Midorima’s lips. Although he was completely beaten up, he mustered his little strength to lean against the brickwall.
"You’re pitiful," He told him, the smile not fading away—and he did not let that small sign of surprise in Takao’s eyes, something that one could only notice when you have been with someone for a long time.
Takao quickly masked his astonishment with a lopsided grin, but he soon receded to a sad smile.
"Probably." He looked at the ground, and in a few seconds, he stood up. "You’re one to tell. You’re the lucky guy here, and the lucky guy’s almost always right." He stepped forward towards him. He raised his hand, and before he struck the final blow to Midorima’s nape, he said, "You sometimes even know better than me."
When Midorima regained consciousness, it was in Shutoku’s headquarters, with the famiglia’s voices gradually turning from murmurs to normal talk surrounding him.
"Hey, Midorima, what happened?" It was the Consigliere’s voice - Miyaji-san - followed by the boss, Ootsubo. "Miyaji, not now."
The first thing he saw, however, was Takao’s scowling lips mumbling something at him before he gave in to the darkness of the night.
Was it just him, or did Takao apologize?
"Midorima, how are you feeling now?" Ootsubo asked, and when Midorima’s eyesight adjusted, he was blinded by the light.
Maybe Takao could not bear to stay in the light anymore, he thought.
And probably, he was right, as Takao had said before he was gone.