Trigger warning: violence, abuse, and racism. This is a heavy chapter.

Shyba—

After I had left the apartment, I found myself wandering the streets until the sun began rising. Without knowing where to go I found a quiet little corner in the park where I can easily hide while keeping an eye on my surroundings. Dustin’s gang will be after me, so I need to keep hidden until I determine what to do.

I need to fix my problem with them before I leave town, or I fear they will continue to go after the family. But I have only been able to come up with two solutions. One, I destroy them and take over their territory. However, as soon as I leave, they will reclaim it and possibly go after the family again.

The second option, go to them and surrender. This way once I leave, Dustin will have his revenge satiated and will most likely not target them anymore. I know if I do this, I may not make it out alive. Then again, why would that matter anyway? I have nowhere to go and if I am caught without proper identification, it will only be a matter of time before I am back in Japan following Master’s orders.

It seems this is my only option. All I need to do is find them. I already know at least one of their spots. However, I find myself sitting here, staring up at the blue sky. As time passes, I watch the clouds float by carelessly at their own pace, somewhat mesmerized, though dark clouds loom on the horizon. The fountain can be heard in the distance and every now and then I notice passerby who are unaware of me, my eyes becoming heavy.

Before I realize it, I am waking to a gray sky quickly becoming darker, the lights of the town already on. The air feels dense and thunder rolls lightly. I reach over and grab my bag then stand. As I walk through the park, I can feel my head begin to throb, as always during a storm. However, I know this will not be the worst pain I feel tonight. The thunder rolls again and light rain falls, cold against my skin. It becomes darker and darker as the sun disappears before the only light is from the streetlamps.

Only about twenty minutes pass until I am at the alleyway that leads to their hideout. A much shorter walk than I am used to. I set the bag down next to the building, knowing I will not need anything that is inside, throwing my sunglasses in. Then with a deep breath I go deeper into the darkening alley.

Not much can be heard so I wonder if anyone is even here. Though I suppose I can just wait for them. I find myself back amongst the junk piles and there are three guys all huddled under a makeshift tent, and I recognize them from last night.

I approach the tent and hesitate. No, I must do this. It is the only way to make them stop. This is what I deserve anyway.

“Excuse me,” I mutter, unsure what to say. I suppose I did not have to be so polite.

They turn and upon seeing me leap back a bit, their eyes wide. I notice the bruise I had left on one of their faces.

One steps forward. “The hell do you want?”

“Take me to Dustin,” I say. “I want this to end.”

They all glance at each other before coming out of the tent. “Sure, but first we have to restrain you. You understand,” another says.

“I am going on my own,” I tell them.

The third grabs a backpack and pulls out a roll of shiny gray tape. “How do we know you won’t attack us?”

I pause. Either way it does not matter. I simply hold out my hands, wrists together. They grin and wrap my hands several times with the tape. I can feel my heart racing. I have faced terror much worse than this. However, that does not seem to quell my stomach. He rips off another piece of tape and puts it over my mouth.

Then they start leading me away. One of them gets on the phone and starts telling someone I showed up and they are bringing me in now. We only walk for a few minutes, going down the alleys, until we come upon an old building. It is boarded up, graffiti covering it.

They take me in through some old, rotted doors. I notice the two-story building is one big area as the second floor is completely rotted out. Much of the wood is charred black and still falling apart.

From behind a makeshift wall walks Dustin and the girl from before. She glares at me while Dustin grins, seeing me bound and presented before him like a gift. He comes over to me and looks me over.

“Well, well, well,” he says. “You really are a dumb rice-picker, aint’ ya?”

What does rice have to do with this?

“I sent a group message so everyone should be here soon,” he tells the others. “If not then they’re gonna miss all the fun. Bring him over here.”

They take me further into the building, following him. Dustin then waves them off once I am where he wants me. They go over and lounge around in random chairs and couches. Then Dustin stands before me once again, chuckling and shaking his head.

“This is hilarious.”

I groan, trying to show I want to say something.

“Oh? What’s that? Can’t hear ya,” he says then laughs. He reaches up and rips the tape off my face, the pain making me wince. “Okay, now I can hear ya. Oh, and try to speak English.”

Was my English not clear before? I thought I spoke it well.

I get down on my knees. “I came to surrender. I want the fighting to stop.”

“Surrender? Are you serious?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say and clench my fists. “Take your revenge. Let this be the end of it.”

He bursts out laughing. “Let me get this straight. You want to get the shit beat out of you?”

I look up at him. “If you leave the others alone, I will let you have your revenge. It is my action that started this, so I should be the one punished.”

A loud bang of thunder rings out and I can hear the rain become heavier, hitting the roof and dripping through a few spots in the ceiling.

For a moment he is silent, glancing upward. “Okay. I’ll take your offer red-eyes.”

I feel my heart ease a bit though my stomach is still in knots. My head begins throbbing more as the thunder and rain become heavier. Before long, the room becomes full of the other members of his gang. I do not bother to count and continue to stare at the floor, the smell of cigarette smoke heavy in the air. Unmoving, I wait.

Then quickly the pain starts with a fist to my face. I can taste blood in my mouth and though my body reflexively tries to fight back, I restrain myself. Before long, I am knocked to the ground and they take turns in twos or threes. It seems to last for hours.

I am beaten with pipes and clubs, kicked and stomped on. They spit on me and throw things at me, all laughing and calling me more weird names. I am certain my ribs are fractured due to the stabbing pain and one of my legs badly injured, not to mention I know I am bruised from head to toe. However, I do find a bit of solace in that this is not the worst I have endured.

My head begins to feel as though it is going to split open and as thunder roars, I feel sharp pains. It is difficult to breathe. Then my vision starts to get blurry. Am I finally going to pass out? Dustin grabs me by the collar of my shirt and hoists me up. He brings my face inches away from his, grinning.

“Duuumbaaass. I’m still gonna wreck that precious family of yours.”

My heart burns. Dammit! I should have known he would be so underhanded! How can I fix this then? I am such an idiot.

He punches me, sending me to the ground. Next thing I know he is on top of me, his fists pounding my face over and over, searing pain spreading everywhere. I taste fresh blood and am unable to free my hands, having no strength to even try.

“Damn, even after all that he’s still conscious,” I hear someone say.

Dustin pulls me up again by my collar, though my head lulls back. It is like all the energy is drained out of me. I cannot even lift my head and my entire body throbs.

“This is pitiful. Can’t even fight back now, can ya?” he mocks. He drops me, my head hitting the floor, and takes a couple steps away. “I’m thirsty.”

I hear several footsteps move away and someone shouts from the other side of the room, “We got vodka!”

Sweet,” Dustin says.

Through my blurry vision I can see him wiping his hands off with a towel, staining it red. The girl brings him a bottle and he grabs it, taking a swig. Then he takes her by the waist, pulling her to him and begins kissing her rather intensely. I quickly avert my gaze. How can they be comfortable doing that in the middle of a crowd?

They sit for a little while and several people leave. Even as I try to move, I feel sharp pains all over, rendering myself immobile. It even hurts to breathe. Why did I think surrendering would work? I am so stupid. Why can I never figure out the right thing to do?

I then hear him say, “Go wait back at my place. We’re almost done here.”

“Okay. Don’t be too long,” she says. Soon after, I hear the door open and close once more.

Then footsteps come closer to me. I glance up and see him looming over me, holding the bottle.

“You thirsty, Jap? Sorry I ain’t got no rice water or whatever the hell it is you drink,” he says.

He tips the bottle, a clear liquid spilling out onto my face. Suddenly, the air is filled with the smell of alcohol and I cannot breathe. I find myself sitting up, my back hitting the wall. My heart feels like it is going to pound out of my chest, and I try to wipe the liquid off without much success. The tape only seems to smear it in with the blood on my face.

“Huh, you don’t like vodka?” he asks, crouching before me as he takes another swig.

 try to catch my breath, but each time I breathe in all I can smell is the alcohol, and it burns my nose and eyes. What did Reba say before? Five things I can see. Then four things I can taste. Three things—

He leans in closer, breaking me out of my concentration. “You shouldn’t be like that. I offered you a drink, so you should have some respect and take it,” he says, the liquor on his breath making me want to vomit.

I feel myself cringing back as far as I can into the wall and I glance around quickly, looking for an exit. Would I even be able to stand though? Suddenly, he thrusts the bottle toward me, and the smell intensifies. I duck my head back behind my hands and my body trembles. Get it together!

He laughs. “What? You afraid of a little bottle?” he asks.

I am unable to say anything, unable to breathe. He laughs, followed by a few others.

“Hey, Carlos, Ricky,” he calls out.

Then a couple guys come over, the other two from the first fight. I find myself staring at the sling on one’s arm. If I had not broken his arm, would any of this have happened?

“Hold him,” Dustin commands.

“No,” I manage to choke out. “Yada!”

One pulls my hands down while the one with the sling pulls my head back. Suddenly, I am in the small windowless room and a cloaked figure enters carrying the vial with clear liquid. I am being held down by several people in blank masks and the taste of blood is in my mouth.

“Hold him down! Don’t let him escape!”

“This is what you deserve, Dragon.”

As Dustin brings the bottle closer to me, I find a bit more strength, jerking my head away as much as I can. I keep my lips pressed together, however the urge to breathe makes it difficult as my nose is swollen and full of blood. With my decent leg I try to kick him away. However, I am nowhere near as fast as usual and he easily evades me.

“Someone hold his mouth open!” Dustin snaps. “And grab his leg!”

Next, two more come over, one holding my leg down and the other trying to pry my mouth open. As soon as I get a chance though, I clamp down on his fingers with all the strength I can muster. He screams, jerking his hand out, blood dripping. I spit a mouthful of it out.

“Dammit! He bit me!” the guy shrieks, then kicks my bad leg as hard as he can.

Before I can stop myself, I shriek in pain. Dustin sees his opening, shoving the bottle between my lips. With every fiber of my being, I try not to swallow. It takes all my strength. Then someone pinches my nose closed and everything is silent as they wait.

I can taste the alcohol on my tongue, the burning bitterness. I try to wriggle out of their grip but am unable. I can already feel my lungs aching for oxygen. As the seconds tick by I can feel my muscles beginning to twitch, the urge to breathe becoming more and more unbearable.

“Come on already!” Dustin shouts and with his free hand he punches me in the stomach.

The force causes what little air was left in my lungs to gust out of my mouth and in so doing the liquid pours down my throat. It is like a hot iron being shoved into my esophagus and I immediately start to gag from both the taste and the air being knocked out of me. Dustin then pours it on my head, letting it drip down my face and bite at the open wounds.

Everyone is laughing as I gasp for breath, gagging and buckling over. Heat is in my eyes and my stomach burns. I try to curl into a ball, but it is incredibly painful. The taste does not go away, and I cannot breathe. The throbbing in my head worsens and I involuntarily start shaking my head back and forth.

I hear someone whispering only I cannot make out what they are saying. Then out of the mumbling I hear laughter, only it is a strangely familiar voice.

“Did he finally lose it?” someone jibes.

“Maybe he realized how funny he looks,” someone else says.

Then I hear someone shout, “We need more booze!”

“You guys go and get some. I’m gonna give my new punching bag something he can really laugh at,” Dustin’s voice says.

Footsteps lead away and I hear the door open and shut again. Once more I find myself in the windowless room as the door slams shut, the masks surrounding me. Then I hear screaming, so much screaming.

“Stop him! Get the chains!”

“The dragon—AGH!”

Next thing I see is the windowless room, red everywhere. The bodies of the cloaked men are broken and unmoving. I am alone, sitting in the middle silently and my body is covered in blood, though I know I am not injured.

Suddenly, thunder bangs and the pain in my head worsens. Then I hear a ripping sound, the laughter becoming louder. Someone is screaming, but it is like I am underwater. Then with a loud echoing crack everything suddenly becomes dark.

Translations:

“Yada!” = Stop!