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He was being followed.
The sidewalk was empty, save for them. His footfalls were heavy on the asphalt, a crescendo of click and clack from his shoes (expensive, sent from overseas by a mother he’d seen in person twice in the past year), his bag swinging weakly by his side, the breeze not quite warm but not quite cool in the late spring evening. He’d seen a girl, earlier, right after school. He still had a smidgen of cherry flavored lipstick on the corner of his lip. She’d been a spitfire, wanted to get right down to business. Fun, he thought. Maybe he’d even text her back. She was from another school. He wouldn’t see her in the halls at lunch. Convenient.
He licked at the lipstick stuck to his lips, his fist clenched in his uniform pocket, his ears pricked to the steady sound of boots very close behind him, his senses heightened at the feel of a heinously familiar aura.
No one took this route at this time of night. This area was nearly abandoned following the events of the past few months. Reconstruction of Seasoning City was slow but steady, and Teru was content with the improvements being made after so much had almost been lost. The death count had been somewhere in the hundreds- he didn’t like thinking of that very much. Kageyama didn’t know about the deaths at all.
Teru looked up high at a crane loaded with concrete and poles, quiet for the evening now that the workers were back home. It was hundreds of feet tall. Teru didn’t feel small at all.
An alleyway to his left. Mostly intact, besides the debris and garbage littering the wet ground, but who knew if that was from before or after the destruction. It didn’t matter much, Teru supposed, veering towards it and pausing at the entrance. It was long and dark and smelled like cigarette smoke. He looked behind him, the way he’d came. There was no one there. Figures, he thought. He entered the alley.
Water dripped onto his head. He grimaced, moved a bit to the side. He looked around, eyed the overflowing dumpster, the discarded cigarette butts, the broken bottles of alcohol, the used condoms. It smelled no better and no worse than any other alley he’d found himself in. He skirted around the puddles filled with dust and who knows what as he made his way deeper into the quickly darkening abyss.
He stood still about halfway through. He placed his bag in a relatively clean patch of asphalt, unruffled his sleeves, loosened his tie, ran a hand through his hair. He stood tall, looked around, saw no one. He held his arms out and took a deep breath.
“I’m not looking for a fight tonight,” he announced, “but I’m more than willing to trade blows if it comes down to it.”
Nothing but the wind whistling through the broken pipes. Teru held himself still in his intimidating stance for a long moment, listening for a response. A car horn blew somewhere far off in the distance. Teru felt very alone, and only somewhat stupid. He lowered his arms, sighed.
His legs were knocked out from under him. Teru buckled forwards with a gasp, landing chest first in a puddle. Dirty water splashed about, soaking through his pants and shirt, dirtying his schoolbag. Teru pushed himself up on scrapped hands, coughing up the mouthful of water he’d been unfortunate enough to swallow. As soon as he gained his bearings he spun back around, striking out with one leg wrapped in his own hardened aura, glowing yellow in the evening glare. The wall behind him cracked with the force of his blast, shards of rock and concrete raining down upon him, clinking off the barrier he’d raised in panic. There was no one there.
Teru let out another cough, panting, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked around wildly. He was alone. The alleyway was quiet save for his laboured breaths.
“Where the fuck-“ he started before receiving a swift kick to the underside of his jaw. His head snapped back with enough force to knock the wind out of him, and the back of his head hit something hard. His teeth snapped together and he bit through his cheek. Blood filled his mouth. His vision was filled with bright, beautiful stars.
He must have been out of it for a second, because the next thing he knew he was lying on his back in that nasty, disgusting puddle, his neck and head and jaw aching, his vision blurry. He blinked a few times, swallowing down the taste of iron. His eyes readjusted slowly to the low light of the setting sun.
And there he stood. Teru saw him through blurred eyes. He was a vision of debauchery, his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the cracked wall with a wicked smile on his face. The shadows enveloped him like a dark shroud. Teru thought of the devil.
“You’ve got some good instincts, kid,” Shimazaki said, his grin encompassing and whole. “A fight in the open’s never a good idea. But you should always expect the unexpected.”
“I expected you,” Teru muttered. He tried to stand. His head was swimming. His ears were ringing. It was hard to focus on anything.
The man leaned down, offered him a hand. In a daze, Teru reached for the source of comfort, felt the clammy palm squeeze against his own. He let Shimazaki help pull him up. Just as he started to find his footing Shimazaki disappeared, and Teru tumbled back into the puddle with a splash.
“And never trust anyone,” Shimazaki said when he reappeared, kneeling behind the soaking boy, peering down as he struggled for breath.
Teru growled. He laid still for a moment, gathered his bearings. Shimazaki watched in silence as Teru’s senses returned to normal. He didn’t think he had a concussion this time which was nice. A trip to the hospital was never fun. He’d had far too many of those in the past month, the past year. They were probably sick of seeing him by now.
Teru pushed himself back up, wincing at the feel of his wet clothes against his bruised skin. He ran dirty fingers through his equally dirty hair, cringing at the texture and bits of debris he found there. He swatted the hand towards Shimazaki. He hoped he got nasty alley water in his fancy gelled up hair. “Stop following me.”
“No.”
The expected answer. Teru shook his head as he stood back up, checking his uniform for tears and holes. His sleeve was ripped to shit; he’d have to get a replacement. What an awful ending to an otherwise okay day. The date he’d been on earlier felt like two lifetimes ago.
He retrieved his dirty bag, unzipped it and peered inside. At least his papers weren’t ruined. “Can you at least take me home?” He said, refusing to turn and look at the other man. He’d done it before, when Teru was beaten so bad he could barely move, drifting into unconsciousness and waking hours later wrapped in the warm embrace of his blankets, his wrecked clothes folded neatly at the end of his bed. He hated thinking about Shimazaki in his house, but the thought of walking home soaked and bruised made him cringe.
“Are your legs broken? Didn’t think I beat you that bad.”
Teru tsked. He stood up, wrung his school bag back over his shoulder, ignoring the ache. “You didn’t beat me at all. That was barely a fight.”
“If you say so,” Shimazaki said.
His aura vanished in the blink of an eye. Teru didn’t need to look to see that Shimazaki was gone.
It was cold in the alley with his dripping clothes and dripping hair. Teru felt the dull heat of the setting sun on his skin when he reentered the abandoned street. He scratched at the new scabs on his hands, surveyed the damage on his palms. He’d need to bandage them up again. Fucker, appearing out of nowhere like that just to rile him up. Teru was used to looking over his shoulder, ready to fight at a moment’s notice, his muscles always clenched tight in preparation, but he’d hoped those days would be long behind him now that Claw was disbanded, hoped the only thing he’d have to worry about was weirdos and creeps who wanted to fuck and kill little boys living alone in the city instead of weirdos and creeps looking to take over the world and remake it anew.
And yet there was one creep he couldn’t seem to shake. An improvement over a whole organization out for his blood, he supposed, but Teru just couldn’t figure out Shimazaki’s angle. All the other members of the Super 5 had turned themselves in, were leading better, honest lives. Shimazaki was on the run from the government and spent his time stalking a middle schooler. Teru liked to think he lived in a dumpster behind a ramen restaurant, except he was always too well dressed, too put together to be living anywhere like that. He always smelled like soap and fancy cologne. Somewhere, frustratingly, he was living rather luxuriously.
Where was Shimazaki staying? If Teru figured that out he could call the authorities, get them to raid his place, slap some cuffs on him, throw him in a cold prison cell to rot like they did with his boss. Teru liked to think he believed in second chances- he’d been given one, after all, and he’d been trying so hard to follow Kageyama’s teachings- but it was hard to even consider Shimazaki with a job, living an honest life, not stalking kids for the hell of it. He barely knew anything about the man, but what he did know was bad news.
“You have a fun date?” Speak of the devil. Teru heard the voice before he sensed the presence. He barely even flinched, now, when the older esper appeared out of nowhere behind him. “You go out with a different girl every night. You’re a real player, huh?”
Teru sped up his steps. Shimazaki matched his pace. “Were you watching me? That’s creepy as hell.”
“Hard to watch when you’ve got no eyes.”
Teru scoffed. “You know what I mean. You’re still a creep.”
Shimazaki shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Terrorist. Murderer.” Teru paused. “Pedophile.”
Shimazaki barked out a laugh. “You’re assuming I want to fuck you.”
“Why else would you be following me? Why else would you watch me go on dates?”
“Maybe I just want to be friends.”
“Interesting way of going about it.”
“You’re an interesting person.”
“You are too.” Not a lie. Teru glanced back quickly out of the corner of his eye, watched Shimazaki smirk. “Doesn’t mean I want to see you ever again.”
“Why not? I always got the impression you enjoyed our little spats.”
Their ‘little spats’ sometimes involved a building or two being crushed to bits. Teru never walked the populated sections of the city anymore. “I don’t want to fight you.” A lie. “You come at me like some lunatic, what the hell am I supposed to do? Lay down and let you beat the shit out of me?”
“You enjoy them,” Shimazaki said, confident in his accusation. “I can tell.”
Teru shook his head. His hands clenched tight around his backpack, his hackles raised. He felt adrenaline rushing through his body. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. Who was this man, this stranger, to tell him how he felt? He focused on the feeling of his new bruises brushing uncomfortably against his wet clothes. “You don’t know me at all.”
“Maybe we should get to know each other a little better then.”
Teru stopped, spun around. Shimazaki actually seemed surprised by this, barely stopping before he barrelled into Teru. He quirked an eyebrow as Teru spoke. “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. I don’t know why you’re following me, but you better stop before I make you stop. I’m tired of you showing up whenever you want and bothering me. I’m tired of beating your ass every day. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder all the time and feeling your stupid aura everywhere.” His fists were clenched. His palms stung where they were scrapped. “Leave me the fuck alone or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
Teru’s breathing was heavy. He felt like crying.
Shimazaki stood, stunned, for a moment. Then he laughed. He doubled over, letting out loud guffaws and chuckles, clutching a hand over his chest. Teru watched in shock, rigid, at the unexpected reaction.
“You are definitely not boring.” Shimazaki said with a wheeze as he regained his breath. He reached forward and ruffled Teru’s hair. Teru tried to jerk away from the touch but Shimazaki clenched his dripping locks tight, pulling him forward. Teru hissed in pain, his eyes wide as Shimazaki pulled him flush against him in a vague rendition of a hug. Teru tensed in fear as Shimazaki wrapped his arms around him. “Maybe I am a bit of a creep. But only for you.”
And then he was gone. Teru stood, alone once more, in the middle of the street, with a heaving chest and tears in his eyes. He could still feel the ghost touch of arms wrapped tight around his body. A crane creaked in the distance. Teru felt very small.