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It’s that time of year again, the blistering Japanese sun is boiling him alive in his leather jacket as he makes the long walk to the corner store to buy booze and cigarettes, his cash is running thin but he doesn’t care. It’s his birthday tomorrow he’s about to get fucked up tonight
The old lady he’s staying with can go fuck herself, he ain’t going home today, he scoffs, like he could even call it that. That bastard Yoshimura had shipped him off before shit went down back in Tokyo. So now he’s stuck here in this backwater hell on the coast, watching the days pass by with nothing much to do, he’s losing it.
He got sent here to cool off did he? Good fucking try on their part, now he’s even more angry at the world and there ain’t anyone he can beat the shit out of to make that go away. Brick walls and bloodied knuckles don’t feel the same.
“It’s so fucking hot here,” he mutters to himself, his jacket is slowly killing him but he can’t take it off out here, if he gets any more of those looks he’s gonna beat someone to death. Staring at his scars and his disgusting body.
“Damnit,” he screams, taking a swing at a street sign, he can’t take this shit any more. He’s going insane and nobody fucking cares about why should he put up with this any more?
He walks his way to the town’s run down public park he’s become well acquainted with. Some punk’s in his bathroom, Ayato gives him one look and that’s enough to scare the fucker off, he chuckles at that. Nobody in this backwater town’s worth shit are they.
He lights up a cigarette, taking a drag and relaxing into the burning sensation as he stares at himself in the mirror. Disgusting. He fishes his knife from his pants, his hair’s too long, he decides, lopping large chunks off haphazardly until he’s finally somewhat happy with it.
He still looks like shit, looking into the mirror the only thing he sees is that bitch Touka, he could try makeup or some shit but he’s too pissed off for that, he’d rather rip his fucking face off but he can’t just do that, he screams, instead deciding to smash his fist into the mirror, shattering it into a thousand little pieces. It’s cathartic, the rush of adrenaline and pain is what he lives for, the sight of his mangled hand makes him feel alive.
He sits back down on the floor, taking a second to process everything. “Shit that hurts,” he groans, that was stupid of him, not like he can undo it now. He pulls a bottle out, why can't he get worse now, he laughs.
He struggles to open his drink with one hand, ultimately deciding to say fuck it and plunges his knife into the lid. He takes a long swig and laughs to himself. “Happy fucking birthday Ayato!” He yells to himself, bringing the bottle back to his face to take another swig.
Multiple Hours and two bottles later he’s awoken from his daze by his phone ringing, what the fuck does Touka want from him now?
“Oi,” he shouts, “What the fffffuck do you want?” He slurs, “You ain’t ever care about me before this bitch.”
“Ayato!” She shouts through the phone, she almost sounds worried, how funny is that. “Where are you?”
“What’s that to you Touka?” He taunts “I know I don’t matter to you, you can just fuck right off.”
“No you fuck off,” she yells back, “Just because I care about my idiot baby brother suddenly I’m the bad guy, just fucking tell me where you are so I can pick your drunk ass up.”
“Whaddya mean pick me up?” He stumbles to his feet “I’m out in the middle of fucking nowhere cause of you guys your ass ain’t picking me up.”
“You’re so fucking stupid.” She sighs, “Where do you think I am retard? Now tell me where you are so I can take your ass back to Tokyo with me.”
“I’m in a park bitch goddamn, and I ain’t stupid,” he trips and struggles back to his feet, “I can walk back to the old lady’s place I’m fine.”
“Just tell me where the fuck you are!” She screams, “I’ve got a car stop being a goddamn child and let me get you.”
“Fuck fine.” He shouts, “You win I’ll be on Main Street just drive until you find me, not like there’s much else here.” He scoffs
“Was it really that hard?” She asks him.
“Fuck you.” He mutters into his phone, throwing it into a wall. He wanders onto the town’s main thoroughfare, the passersby give him a wide berth, his drunken stumbling and bloodied hand scare them all away.
Eventually a car stops next to him. He yanks the door open, slides in, and slams it shut, purposefully ignoring his sister. She plays into this facade, driving in silence until they’re out of town before pulling over.
Touka takes a deep breath before starting, “show me your hand.”
“No,” Ayato snaps, “I’m fine,”
“No the fuck you aren’t, show it to me,” She tells him
“Fine.” He shouts, shoving the bloody mess in her face. He’s acting like a child but he doesn’t care, why should he.
“What the fuck did you do?” She asks, slightly horrified
Ayato laughs, “Punch a mirror.”
Touka just sighs, “Take off your jacket let me look at it.”
“No,” He shouts
“Yes,” she shouts back
“No”
“Yes”
“No”
“Yes.”
“Fuck you,” he mutters “I’m fine.”
“No you aren’t,” she puts her head in her hands, “Yknow what, if you let me clean it up and wrap it you can put your precious jacket back on after. That good?”
He slowly takes it off, tears running down his face. Touka feels bad seeing this, Ayato is a pain in the ass, but it hurts to see him this messed up.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, this whole being reassuring thing isn’t her strong suit but it’s going to have to do, she grabs a bottle of water and one of Ayato’s older shirts and comes around to his side of the car. Opening his door and gets him to his feet with the best attempt at being delicate that she could muster.
She pulls the crying boy into a hug and washes the blood off his injured arm before wrapping it in that old shirt of his. “You’re gonna be okay Ayato.” She tells him, hoping something gets through to him. She might’ve fucked up before but sue her she’s trying
She ushers him back into the car, “c’mon let’s get your jacket back on.” At that he slides it back over himself and curls up into his seat. Touka heads back into hers too, taking the car out of park and getting back on the highway.
She extends a hand to her brother that is quickly snatched up into an iron grip, he’s grown so much, but he’s still the same old dumbass kid.
She takes a look at the time on the car. “Happy birthday man.” She tells him softly.
“You remembered?” He sniffles
“Of course I did, I could never forget about my dumbass baby brother.” She tells him, she sees him smile softly out of the corner of her eye.