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Kazuichi knew when he agreed to help Hajime clean up the garden after school, that it was a bad idea. The project to revive the garden in their last year of Hope's Peak is going well, but the downside is that it's late now, and the last bus home a good bit away.
Kazuichi likes to avoid going home this late. It happens rarely, but if it happens, it never ends well. He should have known, actually. Maybe asked Hajime if he could tag along, so he doesn't have to walk to the station alone, but as always, he's too stubborn for that. Doesn't want to appear weak, so he sucks up his fear and goes alone.
"No way, is that Souda?"
And out of all the possible people from his old school he could have ran into, it had to be those three.
"Pink? Can't believe the guy believes he's a barbie now!"
And nothing has really changed, has it? The days when those guys laughed at him, spat at him and used him as a chewing gum disposal. Kazuichi opts to simply ignore them, hopes he can hurry past them. Maybe a bit of Nagito's luck is still stuck on his shoulder like a tiny demon, sealing his fate.
Kizami, the leader of the group, cuts off his escape. He's a good bit taller than Kazuichi, cold grey eyes spark in the light of the street lamp, his long black hair falling over his shoulders like a cape. He crosses his arms, a devious grin on his lips, and Kazuichi takes a step back.
"Now, isn't that rude? Can't even say hi to your friends, Souda?"
The other two line up to him on each side. Ikeda, with his long white hair and red eyes, and Yamazaki, short golden buzzcut and hazel eyes. Kazuichi used to be friends with Ikeda, a long time ago. But those days are over, and the person Kazuichi once was has long since died.
"I don't wanna do this with you guys", he presses out, trying to move past them, but Yamazaki side steps, cutting off his path yet again.
Kizami clicks his tongue. "I'm afraid we can't let this one go, right guys?" His eyes flicker to both of his buddies, before he cracks his knuckles. "Let's teach this pathetic loser a lesson."
Kazuichi should have known. He can never escape his past, no matter how hard he tries to run away from it. Kizami grabs his collar, pulls him towards himself before shoving him back. He trips, falling unceremoniously to the ground.
"Ow..."
He grits his teeth. Crying now would only make it worse. They circle him, and Kazuichi decides to simply accept his fate, hoping he survives the beat up that's yet to come. He pulls his legs to his chest and shields his head with his arms, waiting for the first impact.
"Did you know? A healthy adult has roughly 4,5 to 5,5 liters of blood circulating at any given moment. Most adults can tolerate a blood loss of 14% without any visible symptoms."
Kazuichi peeks through his fingers. It's a foreign voice, low and droning, threatening, but also soft like honey.
A silhouette appears from the shadow next to the sidewalk. It's one of the new students, Kazuichi thinks. The new year just started a couple of weeks ago.
He's tall and slender, long ocean green hair and keen yellow eyes, narrowed and fixed on those three guys. He's hiding his face behind a leather mask, and the few times Kazuichi has spotted him so far, he's never seen him without it. He wears a dark green uniform with heavy plateau boots, but his steps are entirely silent.
"The fuck do you want, creep?", Ikeda barks.
The stranger raises a bandaged finger. "Now, if you lose more than 40% of your blood, you will die. Say, are you familiar with Lingchi?"
There's something about him that has Kazuichi absolutely mesmerized.
Yamazaki leans in towards Kizami, whispering something into his ear.
"Get lost, fucker. This ain't any of your business."
The stranger tilts his head, tapping his finger against his mask. "Much indeed, it is not. Or, shall I say, it was not until I decided to make it my business."
Nonchalantly, like opening a package of chocolates, he draws a tiny butterfly knife from his breast pocket.
"Shall we begin to explore how long it takes for you to meet your maker?"
Kazuichi has never seen Kizami quite so unsettled. He glances to his buddies, who look equally nervous. The stranger takes a step forward, then another. Kizami grinds his teeth.
"This ain't the last time we meet, Souda. Next time, you're-"
"I implore you not to threaten my friend, lest I shall cut off your tongue as due punishment."
Kizami balls his fists. "Let's go. That fucker's a freak."
They hurry away and disappear into the darkness. Kazuichi watches his savior pocket the knife, before reaching his hand down to him. Several questions jump around in his head like a screensaver hitting the corners of the monitor, like why that guy is carrying a knife. But none of those seem very important with those bright eyes trained on him.
"I must apologize being so bold, assuming friendship between us this hasty. I assure, it was only to rescue your situation."
Kazuichi grabs his hand and lets him help him up.
"Uh, no problem. Thank you, man. You really saved me there. What's your name?"
He presses his bandaged hand against his chest with a slight bow. "My name is Korekiyo Shinguji, I am the ultimate anthropologist. Please, call me Kiyo. Pleased to make your aqaintance."
His soft voice is a stark contrast from threatening his bullies from slowly cutting them up and draining them of their blood.
"Er, Kazuichi Souda. Ultimate mechanic. I guess yer can call me Kaz?"
Korekiyo curls his finger below his chin, humming to himself. "Kazuichi. Peaceful One, yes? Souda, Rice Field of Dominance. Your name is a bit of an ironic one, it appears. You're an indecisive one."
Kazuichi shifts, awkwardly scratching his neck. "I got no idea what you're talking about."
That does get a laugh out of Korekiyo. It's a gentle, light sound, and it causes a shiver to run down Kazuichi's spine.
He shakes his head. "Those guys are from my old school. Past catching up and all that. Sorry you had to save me like that."
Korekiyo blinks at him, and his eyes turn glossy. "I know rather well what you mean. Though, there really is no reason to apologize. One does always hope to get saved, do you not? I wished so many times for salvation."
He wraps his arms around himself, and despite his height, he suddenly looks small and fragile. Kazuichi reaches out his hand, but pauses. Korekiyo visibly flinches away.
"I, uh. I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean it like that."
Korekiyo exhales slowly, and relaxes. Kazuichi cautiously moves again and rests his hand against his shoulder. Hears him inhale sharply, before he closes those sharp eyes, looking content for just a moment.
The lights of his bus appear down the road, and Kazuichi's heartbeat picks up. If he just leaves now, they may never talk again, and somehow that appears to be very distressing to him.
"Um, that's my ride. Would you - I mean only if that's cool with you, you know? Can I like, if you want, like I'm not forcing you-"
"My number?", Korekiyo prompts, and Kazuichi exhales with an awkward whistle, slumping his shoulders.
"Yeah."
Korekiyo's eyes crinkle, and Kazuichi assumes he's smiling behind that mask.
"I have to get on this line to get to the train station either way. I shall accompany you for a couple more minutes, yes? We may exchange contacts, if that so pleases you."
Kazuichi's head is spinning. Korekiyo talks strange and shifts from death threat into casual talk like unwrapping a gift. For the first time in his life, someone has stepped in to save him, without even having any reason to get involved.
"Are you coming?"
Kazuichi blinks. The bus is already at the station, the door open, and Korekiyo waiting on the first step.
"Right! I'm coming."
He feels strangely drawn towards that. And maybe it's wishful thinking to hope a guy like Korekiyo would ever look his way, but maybe, just maybe, today really is his lucky day.