The 9 Millimeter Kiss - Chapter 64: Chapter 64

4 days.
It had been four days waiting for the boy, found out to be named Satori Yuki, to wake up. News of a child having 'The Mark of Death' spread like wildfire. The news of someone having the mark wasn't as important as it was the fact they were still alive. News outlets coming from across the country long before Detective Fujimoto had heard of it.
"I'm Detective Fujimoto," he said, pulling out his badge.
"Detective Mori." a woman next to him also held out her badge.
The nurses at the front desk sent silent glances to each other.
"We're here to see the kid." Fujimoto bluntly stated.
One nurse stood from her seat, "Well, you see--"
"He's awake!" a nurse shouted, running to the front desk to retrieve a file before running back.
"Hiroki!" a child's agonizing wail shook him to his core.
The hairs on Fujimoto's arms stood on it's ends. Goosebumps run rampant through everyone who could hear the cries.
There was once a boy who witnessed many things. A boy with many scars held terrible stories. A boy's who's tears couldn't seem to stop even as he quietly sat in the hospital bed. Flinching at the knocks before the door opened and any other sudden movements or sounds. But he knew things others struggled to ever find out.
"Do you know who did this to you?" Fujimoto asked.
Yuki only stared down at his hands. He'd done the same to others...
"Can you tell us a name?" Mori offered.
There was a boy, broken to the core as one could possibly be. A boy who looked up into the sky and wondered if it had all been a nightmare. Or at least hoped it would be.
"We brought some pictures with us." Fujimoto told him, opening up a folder and slowly sliding it over. "Do you recognize any of them?"
Yuki stared at the pictures. About to shake his head until he realized he'd only seen them scared. Terrified. In pain. And in despair.
"Yes," he replied.
"Which ones?" Mori frowned, taking out a notepad.
Yuki slid the folder away from him. "All of them."
There was a boy whose memory was beginning to fade.
"I'm not sure."
"Okay, then what about this one?"
"... I can't remember." Yuki grimaced.
"Come on, son--"
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!"
"Okay, okay..." Mori softly reassured, "Is there anything you can remember from this person then?"
Two detectives. Only Two detectives were allowed to see him. And they made sure to spend as much time giving him pictures of missing people from the past decade to look at. The grey eyed boy wanted to help but as much as he tried to recall their faces, names, or voices... it just wouldn't happen. With a shaky sigh he looked at one last picture being held up to him.
His eyes widened, breath hitched.
"You recognize her?" Mori exclaimed. Finally glad they were making some sort of progress.
Slowly, he reached up to take the picture. "Mai."
"Yes, that's right. Okamoto Mai." Fujimoto nodded, letting the boy hold the picture.
"Mai... is missing?" Yuki asked them, his eyes darting from the photo to them.
Fujimoto frowned. "She was found a month--"
"Is she okay?" a hint of hope filled Yuki. Maybe he might be able to see her again.
"Well--"
The boy sat up from his bed, "She's fine, right?!"
"Yuki-kun, don't strain yourself." the Doctor warned.
"He didn't get her, did he? Right? She's fine?" the boy's voice grew desperate.
The two detectives looked at each other.
"How do you know her?" Mori cautiously asked.
Yuki looked at the photo. "We were friends... before I moved to a new house."
"This was before you moved here...?" Fujimoto questioned, writing down something on his notepad.
The boy nodded eagerly. "Yes! She's fine though, right?"
He didn't get a reply.
The grip on the photograph tightening. "RIGHT?!"
"I think that's enough for today." Mori told him.
"No. Tell me she's okay! She's okay right?!" The detectives were quick to gather their things.
"Yuki--"
"NO! PLEASE NO!"
"Nurse!" the doctor shouted, holding the boy down.
"NO! PLEASE! MAI'S ALIVE! SHE HAS TO BE!"
Three nurses came in as the two detectives took their leave.
"Restrain him."
"NO! STOP!"
"You need to calm down." the Doctor told him as he forced the boy on his back.
"NO!" a sob left the boy's lips.
"She's going to be a hero! She can't-- MAI!"
There was a boy who laid in bed. His face never seemed at rest. His unrest is even more apparent with each passing night. Sometimes waking up screaming, other times crying through the night without waking up.
"Dr. Young, you're needed in the operation room." A nurse informed him. He'd been staying besides the boy since his arrival. This entire case was heart wrenching.
"I'm on my way." he sighed.
There was a boy who struggled to breath as he walked into a courtroom. The face mask he wore doing nothing as he felt the person he once trusted be able to see through every movement he made. A slam of the gravel should have brought him some sort of closure. But it didn't.
The white snow would have been calming had it not been for the bright flashes blinding him. A gentle hand guiding him though what felt like millions watching him. The warm coat and boots that felt too big on his thin figure. And the bandages under all that clothing.
"Keep your head down." Dr. Young told him, pulling down on Yuki's hood. The way the dark sunglasses would fog with the mask. His body felt numb yet light.
"We're here outside the building. The trial has finally ended and with almost a decade of living in constant fear, the Country of Japan can finally rest."
The cheers and applause muffled as the child continued to walk and be guided to a vehicle.
"--He was sentenced to life in prison and charged with the kidnapping and Murder of 15 known cases. Reports say he confessed to only 5, but forensics were able to tie the other 10 back to him."
It's so loud...
"Thank you! Thank you, you brave soul!"
The crowd cheered as all eyes in Japan watched the unknown child get into the car, followed by his now guardian and their lawyer.
There was a boy who was 11 when he was declared the sole survivor of Matsuda Ittetsu's Brutal Murders. A boy whose body began to protect and shield him as his physical scars healed. A boy who only knew of the names but could not remember their faces. A boy who could wake up screaming and not remember whose screams he was hearing. A boy whose memory only ever tormented him on the days he grew sick. A time spent looking through more and more and more faces he would not remember after.
"This doesn't make sense." Dr. Young mumbled looking through a medical file. Satori Yuki was never once sick. He'd managed to pull out more documents but scarcely found anything after his only close relative passed. He looked through Yuki's parents' medical files and found it odd. His mother had a list of many allergies and illnesses. Passed away a month after giving birth. Satori Takumi, his father, had a relatively standard file in terms of common colds. So why was Yuki's file labeled as Quirkless and Immune?
He'd asked Yuki one day and when he was told he'd only gotten sick for a handful of times and only around a certain time of the year, he wrote it off as a trauma response.
There was a time he struggled in school. A kind school nurse helped him out when she could. She knew nothing of the boy's past, only he lived alone for the majority of the year. She stood up for him when others turned against him in seconds. At times he was reluctant to let anyone near him and she stubbornly stayed put, by his side. It took many tries and failures to get him to talk to her. And when he finally spoke, the smile on her face was something he hadn't expected.
There was a time he was scared to step outside. And there was a time he longed to desperately help others as a way to atone for all he'd done, his secrets buried deep within him.
He was rotting away while Yuki was out and able to continue his life. The feeling of memories were buried under mass amounts of studying and work. Never allowing his thoughts to wander far into the past. He'd avoid facing it for a couple years, allowing himself to heal and grow strong enough for his mind, body, and soul to eventually handle it.
He disguised the numbing feeling with stress and pressure to do well in everything relating to his quirk. He filled his head with so much noise as to never have to think too much about it. He filled the empty rooms in his home with the sounds of news coverings, music and radio stations. He did enough to not think about it once every day. He did enough to get through the day. He did enough to the point he no longer had to go out of his way to do anything to forget.
And maybe that was why he might have let his guard down.
Maybe that was why, after years trying to forget, everything was coming back.