Chapter Text
“Ah… this is awkward.”
“Are you kidding me?!” the shorter one howled with a stomped foot, “how could you kidnap the wrong person?!”
“Not my fault!” the silver-haired man shot back, sounding hurt. “She looks like all the others!”
“What are we supposed to do now?” a black haired one groaned, running a hand up through sharply styled hair. “She’s already here. Great job, Lev. Great job.”
“Listen, how about you go to downtown Shinjuku when it’s dark and pick out one girl with [Hair Colour] hair and—”
Your eyes went back and forth between them as they all yelled at each other, people joining in at various intervals. Your mouth hadn’t been gagged and they’d taken the sack off of your head—now, the only thing binding you were plastic zip cuffs and a rope tying you down into a wooden chair.
“Excuse me,” you said meekly. They heard you, miraculously, and shut up at once to stare. You had never felt more self-conscious under so many eyes before in your life.
“What?” the short, sandy-haired one asked gruffly.
“Yaku, don’t be so mean to her,” the one at your side who had unhooded you muttered.
“Now she knows my name!” Yaku thundered. “What if we have to kill her for this!? Lev, shut up!”
“Am I not important enough to have my name kept quiet?!”
“Can I not be killed?” you interjected dryly, regaining a sense of humour after hearing the two throw spiteful insults at each other like children. “I would really just like to go if you’ve got the wrong gal.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” The spiky haired one rubbed his hands together sort of sheepishly. “We can’t really just ‘let you go’. After all, you’ve seen all our faces and heard our voices.”
“I won’t tell anybody. Promise?” you attempted, even smiling. He blinked.
“Right. Well then. We can let her go, right, Yaku?” He turned to look at the shorter one, who scowled.
“No, we can’t. We’re a freaking mafia group, do you really think we can just let the chick go?” Yaku aimed a sharp kick at Spiky Hair, and you looked around the room as he complained.
“I mean… for a mafia group, this is pretty modest.”
You brought silence to the bickering room again. It was almost like a magic trick. One who hadn’t spoken before stepped forwards, a sullen frown and bleached hair with dark roots making him look like a cup of pudding that fell off the wrong side of the bed.
“Are you insulting us?” he asked in a quiet voice that sounded a hundred times more threatening than that of Yaku’s louder one.
“No,” you said quickly. “Just saying… I wouldn’t have thought you were a… well, a mafia group.”
“I… kidnapped you. Did you forget that?” Lev talked slowly as if he were coaching an idiotic child that it was, indeed, stupid to stab electric sockets with metal forks.
“No,” you retorted bitterly. You jerked against the ropes of your chair for emphasis. “I didn’t.”
“You’re kinda talkative for a hostage,” Spiky Hair said all of the sudden. His amber eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who are you?”
“The wrong girl, apparently.”
“I agree with Kuroo,” Yaku said coldly. “She’s way too into this. Shouldn’t she be like… crying?”
“You gave away his name,” you pointed out. Spiky Hair/Kuroo raised his eyebrow, looking like a startled pigeon. Yaku cussed frustratedly.
“You don’t even have weapons!” you chided, even disapprovingly. “If you really wanted me to be scared, this wouldn’t come close to cutting it.”
“I’ll say it again,” Kuroo muttered in a much lower tone, stepping closer to you and crouching down so that he could look into your eyes. You met the gaze despite the sudden burning feeling you got when you looked at him. “Who. Are. You?”
You shrugged. “The wrong girl.”
Your eyes met one of the members of Nekoma’s affiliates, a well-known and high-functioning mafia gang on the streets of Tokyo.
“I think she’s the right girl.”