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"You want to die that badly?"
Shiki had lifted him by the front of his shirt, forcing him to face the brunt of the pummeling rain. The rain battered his face with heavy, wet strikes. Water drenched his hair and slid down his face, dotting his eyelashes and filling his mouth.
"I don't fucking care what you do," Akira coughed out, somehow managing to still raise his voice over the pouring rain. "Do whatever the hell you want—kill me if you want. It doesn’t… it doesn’t matter to me anymore." He squinted to stop the droplets from getting into his eyes. His vision was limited, but he could make out a blur of cold, red eyes and the outline of Shiki's coat.
"…"
Shiki's eyes narrowed at him. The hand that had been holding him up by his shirt let go, and Akira slumped to the ground, his back hitting the concrete wall of the building behind him. He lowered his head, gaze fixed on the ground that he couldn't even see. The rain continued to beat down on him, its biting chill reaching him all the way to his bones. His injured and bleeding hand lay limp by his side.
He wondered if this pathetic display would disgust Shiki so much into finally killing him. The sooner, the better.
As he waited for Shiki's sword to cut him down, he closed his eyes. He hoped that once the deed was done, the rain would wash all his blood away, leaving not a single trace of red behind.
The lethal strike didn't come, though. Instead, he sensed a presence looming in front of him.
Akira opened his eyes, confused, and he raised his face a little to look at Shiki.
Shiki had crouched down to his level. Shiki's gaze held no discernible emotion, not even disgust at Akira's miserable form. Akira couldn't tell what he was thinking; what his intentions were, but a sinister chill slid down his spine. Even in the utter darkness of the night, he could see the haunting glow of those red eyes. They were examining him carefully, as if trying to pinpoint his every weakness.
Akira got the distinct feeling he was being sized up as a prey. Something lurched in his stomach.
A second later, Shiki's hand was pulling down the zipper of his jacket. The wind blew Akira's jacket open right after, his shirt rippling in the storm's harsh gales. Shiki pushed Akira's shirt up, exposing Akira's bare chest to the battering rain.
Akira's thoughts barely caught up to what was going on. Shiki's gloved hand was on his chest, but the next thing he knew, it was down at his pants, grabbing his—
"What the fuck are you doing?!" He tried to shove Shiki off him, but the man didn't budge. A growing sense of horror gnawed at him, his throat forming a blocky lump.
Shiki's expression had changed from indifference to a taunting smile—the one that Akira was used to seeing, except it was so much more ominous.
"You said to do what I want. If you're going to be a weakling, I'll treat you like one." That suggestive look he was giving Akira, along with the hand groping at his pants, sent Akira's mind into a frenzy.
Why was Shiki doing this? What were his intentions? And—was this really happening to him?
He couldn't move his body.
Shiki's smirk deepened in response to the terror filling Akira. His hand groped Akira roughly.
"Who's the body over there? Friend of yours?" Shiki's voice was low in his ear, but it stood out like a slithering chill against the rain.
Akira flinched. He remembered Keisuke's body was still there, lying on the ground.
It seemed like Shiki didn't actually care for an answer, or rather, he already knew, because he continued without waiting for a response from Akira.
"Show him how you moan and scream."
Everything was happening too fast for Akira to process. Shiki's hands were deftly undoing his belt, and he was sucking at Akira's neck, his mouth warm on Akira's cold skin. All Akira could do was stare ahead into the darkness of the street, watching as the storm raged on, too shaken up in disbelief to do anything. He only lowered his gaze when a shiver overtook him, a strong chill settling over his lap.
Shiki had undone the zipper of his jeans, and now he was reaching for Akira's cock. Akira hissed when Shiki's gloved hand wrapped around him. Shiki gave a slow tug, and Akira grunted in pain at the rough drag of leather against his cock.
He had to do something to stop Shiki, but his body wouldn't move; wouldn't adhere to his thoughts, because all he could think about was Keisuke. Keisuke, lying on the cold, hard ground.
"Look," Shiki cooed, sounding amused, his smirk curling further. "Your precious friend is watching. We should put on a show for him."
Akira's breath caught in his throat.
Keisuke was—watching?
No, that couldn't be…
Keisuke was… he was—?
He couldn't be watching… seeing what was happening to Akira.
Could he?
Akira craned his neck and tried to peer over Shiki's shoulder, but Shiki pushed him against the wall, forcing him to stay put. His mouth was still sucking on Akira's neck. He had one hand on Akira's cock, the other roaming over Akira's chest and abdomen.
Akira tried to twist out of Shiki's hold, but he was trapped between Shiki's body and the wall behind him. He was hissing as Shiki's hand tugged on his cock with painful strokes. The wet friction from the rain and the leather glove was torturous, and the cold wind didn't help. With his jacket open, the wind was blowing up his shirt, and he was quickly losing heat. His vision faltered, droplets of rain getting into his eyes.
He heard Shiki chuckling. Akira groaned, and he put one hand on Shiki's shoulder, trying to push Shiki off him. No matter how hard he gripped and pushed though, Shiki hardly seemed to notice his struggling efforts. The rain made his movements feel heavy, and he couldn't muster enough strength to fight against the torrent.
He cried out in pain when Shiki grabbed his left hand. Shiki's fingers pressed into the bleeding wound on his palm. Heat fluttered in his aching hand, blood flowing from the agitated gash.
Shiki guided Akira's hand down, making Akira touch himself. Akira grimaced as the blood from his hand spread onto his cock. The rain washed it away right after, but it was still disgusting.
His hand burned from the friction. Shiki's hand was wrapped around Akira's, forcing him to keep going. Akira could feel the skin around the wound tearing, the palm of his hand blazing with heat. His hand chafed his cock and vice versa. He grunted through gritted teeth, trying to breathe through it. His right hand was still pushing at Shiki's shoulder in a desperate attempt at resistance.
"…Interesting," Shiki murmured, his eyes taking on a different, more sinister gleam. "You're still trying to resist."
Shiki wrapped his hand around Akira's neck. He forced Akira's jaw up so Akira's face was level with his.
"What would your friend think?" Shiki cooed. "That you're getting off with the same hand you used to kill him."
Akira shuddered, shame flaring in his veins. Grabbing the collar of Shiki's coat, he muttered, "Just kill me…" At this point, death was more merciful than whatever sick shit Shiki was doing to him.
Shiki's grip tightened on Akira's neck. He slammed Akira's head back against the wall, and Akira gasped out a choked breath, his voice hoarse. The back of his head throbbed and his vision started swaying.
Shiki leaned his face in. "You think you'll be spared after death?" His red eyes were staring down at Akira with brutal frigidity. "Don't be so naive. I'll rape and defile your corpse."
Images flashed in Akira's mind of what he saw when he'd first arrived in Toshima: in that abandoned store, cloaked in the shadows, a man humping the lifeless body of another Igra participant.
It was too much. The gruesome memory, along with the feeling of nausea snaking up in him due to his vertigo, caused Akira to preemptively turn his head to the side. His throat convulsed, and he coughed out saliva at first before warm vomit started spilling. It splattered on the ground. Akira couldn't stop himself from coughing and vomiting even as he tried to hold his throat still. The puke forced its way out of him, burning his throat in the process.
Akira was gasping and heaving as the vomit slowed to small expulsions, until nothing came out of him anymore and his throat finally stilled. The smell of bile was immediately washed away by the rain. In his throat, an acidic taste remained. His throat felt dry and it was still burning a little, but his nausea was slipping away at least.
Seeing that he was done puking, Shiki slapped him hard, sending his face the other way.
Akira groaned, his cheek stinging with searing pain. His head hung down, but Shiki yanked him up by his hair, forcing Akira to face him.
"A pathetic worm like you should be groveling on the ground."
Akira's gaze met with Shiki's icy glare. He gritted his teeth, his hands tightening into shaking fists. His left hand ached at the burrowing pressure, but he was too pissed to care. He didn't understand why Shiki wouldn't just kill him. Did he really hate Akira so much that he wanted to torment him like this instead of ending his life outright?
His blood seethed with boiling fury. "Fuck… you…" He spit in Shiki's face.
A savage blow to his face knocked his head back into the wall. His vision started swinging from side to side again. Akira shut his eyes closed, feeling another cloud of nausea rising in him. This time the impact of the blow seemed to ring throughout his head.
Shiki grabbed him by the throat, pinning him to the wall with a crushing grip. Akira coughed and tried to pry Shiki's hand off him. That just made Shiki squeeze his neck harder.
Akira clawed violently at Shiki's arm. He opened his eyes when his nausea finally passed. What he saw nearly made his blood freeze.
Shiki was smiling at him. He was enjoying this.
"So you do still have some fight left in you. Good." Shiki loosened his grip on Akira's neck. "If you hate this that much, then fight back. Otherwise I'll treat you like the weakling you are."
Indignation and fury burst in Akira. The realization that his misery was just a form of entertainment for Shiki settled in. His mind was consumed with red, hot rage.
Raising his fist, he swung full force at Shiki and smashed Shiki's face in.
Akira reveled in the way his fist connected squarely with Shiki's cheek, the force of the impact thrumming in his knuckles. He'd punched Shiki so hard that Shiki's face had been knocked to the side. The thrill of his revenge only lasted a moment though. Shiki had let him get that punch in, he knew. That only pissed Akira off even more.
Shiki paused for a moment before turning his head back to Akira, a chilling smile lighting up his face.
"…Is that all you can do?"
The only thing that mattered to Akira now was spilling Shiki's blood. He hurled his fists at Shiki, swinging with unbridled anger. The astounding arrogance, the unjust treatment, the mocking disposition—all of this fueled Akira's wrath and spurred him on to keep swinging at Shiki, to keep fighting back.
None of his strikes landed, but he didn't care. He would continue lashing out until death finally came to him.
A hard kick in the stomach knocked the air out of him, and Akira gasped, his head spinning. A boot came down on his head next, digging his face into the wet, grimy asphalt.
Pinned to the ground, the adrenaline slowly seeped out of Akira, and after a few breaths, pain racked his body at full force.
He had no strength left in him. He had been running on pure anger, bloodlust, and resentment, but now those blazing feelings of ire were being smothered under the cold rain beating down on him.
His body was numb. Pain still throbbed and ached in him, but he couldn't feel anything on his skin anymore, nor did he have the energy to think.
Resigning himself to his fate and waiting for death to take him, Akira closed his eyes.
"…Truly fascinating."
He vaguely realized that the weight on his head had lifted, and something was shuffling around in the shadows of the rain.
The sudden feeling of being lifted pulled him out of his reverie. Akira opened his eyes.
Shiki was… carrying him.
Stunned, Akira lay unmoving in Shiki's arms for a few seconds. When he realized Shiki still had no intention of killing him, he started to protest. "Let go…"
"Be quiet," Shiki said, his voice cutting through the rain. His hair was dripping wet. It stuck to his face, and his black locks curled slightly at the ends. Red eyes bore into Akira. The violent bloodlust in his gaze had faded. A faint but cold gleam was all that remained.
"From now on," Shiki said, his voice soft yet commanding, "you belong to me."
Shiki spoke the declaration with such surety. Akira's consciousness started to waver after hearing those words. He still wanted to object, but he could do nothing but close his eyes as exhaustion claimed both his body and mind.
Everything turned to black after that. All he registered was the rain singing in his ears. It drowned the whole world out.