#43 Theme 43: Son of Bitch - Miyavi; Tora/Hiroto
Title: An Adventure
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 043 Son of Bitch (Miyavi)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto if you squint
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: AU, slight violence
Comment: I meant to finish this for Halloween :(
An Adventure
Somewhere, scrawled across the back of his mind, painted over by a layer of guilty truth, Hiroto fancied himself an adventurer.
Of course, if adventures entailed evening trips down to the nearby shopping mall, he had quite a book full of tales to tell. Little Boy Hiroto and the Expensive Pair of Red Boots. Little Boy Hiroto, the Little Old Lady, and the Crossing Walk of Doom. The Adventures of Little Boy Hiroto and His Trusty Wisdom Tooth. It was an impressive list of feats capped off by midnight pilgrimages through the woods and into the mountains - using well-established paths of course. No sense in falling off a cliff for the sake of adventure.
Yes, Hiroto considered himself a risk-taker of the "about average" sort. The kind who sauntered down alleys (only in broad daylight and only if he could tell there was no one else sauntering down the same alleyway), jumped fences (the non-spiky, brick walls and particularly when no one was watching), and laughed in the face of danger (the moon high up in the sky definitely counted). Through and through, Hiroto felt his heart housed one of the most adventurous spirits on the block.
And that was why, when thunder began to shake its lightning fists at the cloud-covered sun, he thought nothing of the ominous sign.
Bad weather was about as normal as stumbling on the uneven sidewalk - something Hiroto was prone to doing at this particular, crumbling bus stop. Right now he was more interested in the minute hand on his watch ticking further and further away from the scheduled arrival and departure time. Not that he was in a hurry or anything, but bus punctuality was something everyone relied on. Maybe it was taking so long today just because he had whimsically decided to travel as far as he could before nightfall; his luck was terrible like that.
Crossing his arms against the last rays of sun, Hiroto settled back on a telephone pole to wait. A small crowd had developed the closer the scheduled time had approached. Now they were muttering impatiently amongst themselves, shuffling grocery bags from left hand to right, checking mobiles, and asking the time even though it had scarcely been seven minutes past their usual departure. A stranger was eyeing his adventurously blond hair funny, but he quickly looked away when Hiroto caught his eye.
You could always hear the hiss and roar of the bus before it rounded the corner, tires groaning under the burden of antsy feet and the weight of heavy metal while exhaust filled the air. Over time Hiroto had developed a game he liked to play with the bus driver - or rather it was his own one-sided play of guess where the bus door would open. Picking an auspicious looking chunk of curb, he would perch on his heels at the very edge of the sidewalk and wait for the bus to roll to a stop. More often than not he managed to be quite a distance off but, when he was right on the spot, the bus doors hissed open right at his feet and he got to be the first one on.
That usually decided whether or not he got a seat. First on was always first choice after all.
But today apparently wasn't his lucky day.
Frowning slightly at the queue forming ahead of him, Hiroto snapped out of his reverie and got in line, filing onboard as the last stragglers exited through the back.
---
From outside it was easy to see just how monstrous the bus was. Thick panels of glass, bumpers, gridded rubber and fitted metal took up almost the entire lane as the engine revved them forward. Above the windshield, a small screen lit up with the route number and next stop as they settled into the vehicle's ungainly sway.
From within a row of seats lined the bus on each side, metal poles and swinging handles punctuating the empty space all down the middle, while an accentuated gap warned passengers to keep clear of the back door while the bus was in motion. Hiroto was unfortunate enough to wind up clinging to one of the poles as they rocketed down the road, palms getting sweaty the harder he had to cling and feet ever-shifting to accommodate the bus's random brakes and accelerations.
Being in the middle was always an awkward situation, fingers clutching a handle for balance, armpits, crotch or behind thrust some way or another into a stranger's face. Hiroto tried to ignore the way his knees banged into the person sitting in front of him every time they rolled over a speed bump or pothole. Nevertheless, it was hard to miss the look of annoyance that crossed the other passenger's face.
It was like manning a ship though, a pirate adventure, holding onto a mast or swinging down from the ropes. He even imagined himself traveling through time as buildings and signs zipped past, anything to pass the long ride home. And a long ride home he sure had guaranteed himself.
---
Every ten minutes or so, the bus would pull to a stop and everyone would scuttle in and out like giant ants bringing useless bits and pieces back to store in their anthill. And the bus really was like a moving anthill at times, accumulating trash, dirt, food crumbs and germs until the bus company was forced to wipe the seats down every night and sweep the floors swept every morning. When it rained, it was as if the anthill were under attack. Everyone huddled, wet and shivering within the bus's sturdy walls but, as soon as they were made to venture out into the pouring rain, the ants would scatter as if the droplets burned.
As the minutes passed, Hiroto finally found himself the owner of a seat.
This time he was the one crammed as far back into the plastic cushions as possible; the pleasure of having a stranger's backside gravitating dangerously nearby, all his.
But eventually the crowd would thin down to as few as ten passengers and he would be able to breathe again.
---
He was a stranger to these parts of town, the shops and signs blurring past unfamiliar because he had never stepped beyond the boundaries of the bus lines he patroned. Everywhere else tended to be dangerous, shady areas where trouble was sure to crop up, so he stuck to going from Point A to Point B and no Point In-Betweens.
The bus jolted uneasily on the poorly paved road and Hiroto nearly slid clean off his seat. There were only two of them left he noticed as his hands fumbled for something to grasp onto. They were taking a different route today, somewhere really far out judging from the growing scarcity of streetlights. As they groaned and bumped and thudded along, the only thing Hiroto could make out through the inky black window was his own reflection doused glaringly bright in the bus's fluorescents. It made him look pale, sicklier looking then he actually was. Shadows had collected in thin bags under his eyes and their uneven journey made him look ruffled and the worse for wear despite the fact that he had woken up that morning from a good night's rest and made sure he was properly styled and clean before leaving.
Frowning at his haggard reflection, he let his gaze wander over to other passenger, intent on giving him a quick once over just for comparison's sake. It seemed to have been the wrong move, however, because, as soon as he hit face level, Hiroto was met with an intense gaze staring right back. He averted his eyes quickly, flushing with embarrassment and sincerely hoping that had been a complete coincidence even though the searching look in the other's face spoke otherwise.
Nothing about him seemed familiar so why would he be staring like that. Hiroto squirmed in his seat at the thought. Even paler skin than what his own, a lip piercing, narrow chin, distinct features Hiroto was sure he would have remembered seeing anywhere. And so he was sure he hadn't, had never seen the tall frame dressed in heavy combat boots, rolled up jeans and thick hoodie. He looked dangerous and Hiroto prayed they wouldn't get off at the same stop.
He wasn't given much more time to think as the bus heaved over another bump and the stranger took the opportunity to get up and settle down in the seat beside him. Hiroto's mind kicked into overdrive then, stories of victims randomly knifed on the bus, of whole buses being taken hostage by a single passenger with a gun, began surfacing and consuming his thoughts. His fingers twisted nervously in on themselves, eyes picking out all the closest exits, and ears waiting hopefully for the sound of the next stop. He would pretend to get off wherever it was and, if the stranger followed, would wait for him to get off then run back on the bus screaming at the driver to "GO, GO, GO!"
It was a mostly foolproof plan, maybe. And so, when the stranger reached out and grabbed for his arm, Hiroto knew he was screwed.
He immediately began to struggle while the stranger's grip instantly went for loose to harsh. Mouth opening to scream , a calloused hand clapped over it and effectively shut him up. The stranger was strong, painfully so, and Hiroto was helpless in the steely hold that held him in place, yanked him sideways and pushed him deeper into the seats. In the windows Hiroto could make out his own eyes, wide with fear and beginning to glisten, every muscle tense as he pushed and twisted in vain. The smell of cigarettes and cologne assaulted his nostrils before a rough voice hissed in his ear and broke through the panic.
Everything happened in the span of a minute. Only a few seconds for Hiroto to be overpowered and pressed into metal and plastic, only a few seconds for the adrenaline to pump through his veins and make his mind spin.
"I need you to stop struggling," the strange growled softly against his earlobe. "I'm not here to hurt you." Yeah, right. That's what they all say. "My name is Amano Shinji, my friends call me Tora. I work the night shifts in a warehouse downtown. I have two cats and I like to play guitar. I-" Hiroto wondered hysterically whether this short monologue was leading up to his untimely death. Having more than one cat and working alone at night was never a good sign. His stomach flipped nauseously as his assailant's words began to slur and not make sense. He wanted to hurl on the palm pressed against his lips, but he was pretty certain the hand currently smothering him wouldn't allow a single drop of stomach acid to even get past his forcibly sealed mouth and he would just end up choking on the bile.
"Stop that," Tora commanded sternly, voice still low as Hiroto made gagging sounds in the back of his throat. "I need you to trust me and I need to be able to trust you too if we're going to make it out of here alive." Hiroto had been pretty sure he was going to die five minutes ago.
"I think our driver is on a rampage."
Hiroto sucked in a heavy breath through his nose. Rampage. Wait, what? The word echoed heavily in his scrambled mind, a dangerous accusation Hiroto wasn't sure he should believe because of its incredulity, but he wanted to believe. It was sad, but he wanted to believe this stranger pressed too close didn't intend to harm him.
"You probably don't believe a word I'm saying and we're fucked if you won't even give me a chance, but I'm going to let you go in a minute. I need you to stay calm, don't panic, don't make a sound, don't try to run," he continued in a whisper barely audible over the bus's engine. Hiroto was mostly still now, trying to get a hold of his thoughts, to listen intently and contemplate his next move.
"In the seat next to me you'll find my mp3 player," Tora indicated behind him with a tilt of his head. "I'm going to go back to my seat. I want you to pick up the headphones and listen to what they're broadcasting on the radio. Listen for it. A rogue bus running red lights and steam-rolling innocent people." His words were utterly precise, the urgency evident in his eyes. "Eight injured, five dead."
"Look at the driver. If you believe me and think you can help me help us, take the seat next to me." And then he was gone, moving away just like he had promised with the next lurch of the bus. Hiroto was left by himself again, blood rushing back to numb lips where Tora had pressed too hard and heart still thrumming in his chest.
"Give me a chance." What reason did he have to trust a complete stranger who'd practically assaulted him? It didn't make sense. His instinct was to run, but where did one run to on a moving bus? Bus. They hadn't stopped in quite some time. Brow furrowing, Hiroto finally looked up from where he'd been contemplating the red marks fading from his arm. There he was, sitting there like he didn't have a care in the world. That didn't make sense either. Why give your victim the opportunity to retaliate?
Tora was slunk low in his seat, legs stretched out into the center of the bus, ignoring Hiroto as if his life really wasn't being threatened. But Hiroto could tell. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could pick out the focused way the other was staring at the ceiling, his whole body on alert and ready to spring into action. The knuckles of one hand were white and, Hiroto finally noticed, the other hand was pointing straight at the driver.
"I need you to stay calm, don't panic, don't make a sound, don't try to run."
Hiroto suddenly had to fight that very urge to panic. Everything was spiraling so quickly out of control. He hadn't paid much attention to the driver before now, just another bloated man with one too many chins and a balding head, but now he had taken on a sinister façade. Round specs were set in front of two beady eyes, age spots littering a sagging face, spittle dribbled down the corner of his lips and flecked the steering wheel in angry streaks.
He appeared to be in a constant state of outrage.
Though Hiroto couldn't make out anything in the vehicle's sweeping headlights, the driver was clearly throwing a fit. He was pointing angrily at the dark street, barking silent obscenities that every once in a while became small vocal swears when the driver threw his arms up in the arm and slammed on the brakes in apparent disapproval.
There wasn't anything there, Hiroto was sure of it.
As if on cue, he immediately caught sight of demonic eyes reflecting the headlights' glow. Deer scattered. The sure thump of something once living hit the bus's front and he finally realized with growing horror they weren't even on the road anymore.
Ignoring the crackly noises he could hear coming from the headphones, he was immediately on his feet and glued to Tora's side. The uneven ride, all the speed bumps and potholes, they had been people, limbs and loved ones all tangled up in the bus's massive tires.
The lights flickered ominously and he became frighteningly aware of how obvious he was being.
"Don't worry, I don't think he's noticed anything." The words were murmured reassuringly into his ear, a welcome contrast to the urgency of before even if pale eyes were looking elsewhere. Hiroto was eternally grateful he wasn't the only one in on this adventure. He tended to be more than just a little spacey and a terrible daydreamer. He probably wouldn't even have noticed what was going on until the driver had finally pulled over and skinned him alive. He shivered at the thought.
"Tell me something about yourself, what's your name?" Tora whispered, trying to distract the other momentarily from the situation, make sure he didn't freak out completely and get them both killed.
"Hiroto," the other barely breathed out. "My name's Hiroto. I-I have… I like- I don't know. I just- I just want to go home," he ended pathetically.
The other touched his leg sympathetically. "We will get you home, just work with me, okay?" Hiroto nodded. He hated how he couldn't be as strong as the other man right now. He had no choice but to try his best so what was with all this useless panic?
"I called for help, but I lost signal out here," Tora began softly. "He drove us off the main road as soon as some sirens were in hearing distance, but at least we're not anywhere crowded. They sent out a helicopter, I know that much, it's looking for us. My guess is that we're in the woods or the mountains or even driving through someone's field right now. I have no idea, but I don't think it would be a good idea to try and make a jump for it. With how fast he's going, we could break our necks and he could turn around run us over." He spoke calmly as they veered into the darkness, stray branches beating against the windows and a dirt path coming into view.
Unconsciously, Hiroto's fingers had gravitated towards him for comfort and were currently tangled in the material of Tora's sweater. Any other time and the gesture would have been cute, but now they needed to concentrate.
"He could go on like this all night and we can wait for him to stop, run out of gas, see what he does to us, but I'd rather have the element of surprise in our hands." They were sitting thigh to thigh so Hiroto didn't have to strain his ears to hear. "I only want to do this if you're ready but…"
"Just tell me the plan," Hiroto finally blurted in a whisper. He didn't want to be babied and they might not have much more time. Tora's lips almost twitched at the flare of determination, but he was too worried about their lives to notice.
"The plan is this. We need to move as fast as possible before he realizes what's happening. I'll grab his arms and try to stop the bus or at least stop him from hurting us while you unbuckle his seat belt and try to get his feet off the gas and onto the brakes. Can you do that?"
Hiroto nodded quickly. He could do that at least. It wasn't as hard as what Tora had assigned himself.
"I'll do my best to keep him under control and get him out of the seat. As soon as you can, try and bring us to a stop."
"Okay," Hiroto whispered, "Unbuckle him, get his feet out of the way, stop the bus."
"Whenever you're ready," Tora nodded faintly, looking a bit paler, as if he were steeling himself for the task.
Hiroto's fingers shook as he reached out to give the larger man's hand a squeeze.
---
Adventure was usually something you never set out for. It happened naturally, when you least expected, and when it was least desired. Like children exploring the great, wide wilderness, the real adventure didn't begin until some unfortunate child had tripped and scraped a knee or the entire lot of them started to itch with poison ivy.
For Hiroto, it hadn't taken him long to decide that he would rather stick to daily routine than go through this adventure.
They were on their feet now, bodies swaying with the bus as if in slow motion, though it only took a second before they had the driver surrounded on one side. Hiroto took an elbow to the head as he bent to clumsily undo the seatbelt, but then Tora was there staving off any other attacks. For what seemed like half an hour, hewrestled with trousered legs that suddenly seemed twice his size and double his weight.
It was all a blur of desperate motion, crazed eyes that glimmered to match lips screaming murder, meaty fists that seemed to pummel everywhere no matter how hard Tora tried, and the ever blaring horn signaling to all the world that something was amiss.
"Fuck," Tora swore as the driver managed to grab a hold of the large steering wheel and shove him into the dashboard. Hiroto let out a high yelp as fingers dug into his scalp and grabbed a fistful of hair. The bus was zigzagging erratically, miraculously avoiding any trees or ditches, when Tora finally got his footing back. Knuckles sunk into a bristly cheek and the momentum carried his hand into a nose breaking punch.
"Get the wheel!" Tora barked as he used all his strength to grab the manic driver around the neck and heave him off his seat.
It was unfortunate timing.
The minute Hiroto leaped for the steering wheel, Tora grabbed onto the driver and dropped to the ground. A fat wrist, thick with hidden muscle and attached to an unrelenting hand, snapped as the killer was hauled to the ground still attempting to clutch the steering wheel. It made no sense. Nothing about the situation made sense. All they knew was that they had to stop it from escalating. The sharp edge of the steps leading up into the bus slammed into the driver's temple and he was knocked unconscious, but not before he'd done his damage.
Before Hiroto had time to even grasp the wheel with his fingers, the bus took a sharp turn and crashed into a tree, spinning and flipping out of control amongst the splintered vegetation. Tora clung to the driver's dead weight, the metal bars, seats, anything to ground him as they literally flew through the air. He could hear the sound of choppers now, helicopter blades cutting through the sound of screaming metal and a blinding spotlight suddenly illuminating the horrific view they had of the foliage all around them.
It was the last thing Hiroto saw as he feet left the bus floor and his body went sailing through the windshield.
A/N:
Hell YEAH it ends right there… fml.
I was writing this for Halloween. Then Halloween passed. Then I didn't feel like finishing/posting. And now this.
BTW does my layout/font color and such make it hard to read? Comments please? :))
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 043 Son of Bitch (Miyavi)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto if you squint
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: AU, slight violence
Comment: I meant to finish this for Halloween :(
An Adventure
Somewhere, scrawled across the back of his mind, painted over by a layer of guilty truth, Hiroto fancied himself an adventurer.
Of course, if adventures entailed evening trips down to the nearby shopping mall, he had quite a book full of tales to tell. Little Boy Hiroto and the Expensive Pair of Red Boots. Little Boy Hiroto, the Little Old Lady, and the Crossing Walk of Doom. The Adventures of Little Boy Hiroto and His Trusty Wisdom Tooth. It was an impressive list of feats capped off by midnight pilgrimages through the woods and into the mountains - using well-established paths of course. No sense in falling off a cliff for the sake of adventure.
Yes, Hiroto considered himself a risk-taker of the "about average" sort. The kind who sauntered down alleys (only in broad daylight and only if he could tell there was no one else sauntering down the same alleyway), jumped fences (the non-spiky, brick walls and particularly when no one was watching), and laughed in the face of danger (the moon high up in the sky definitely counted). Through and through, Hiroto felt his heart housed one of the most adventurous spirits on the block.
And that was why, when thunder began to shake its lightning fists at the cloud-covered sun, he thought nothing of the ominous sign.
Bad weather was about as normal as stumbling on the uneven sidewalk - something Hiroto was prone to doing at this particular, crumbling bus stop. Right now he was more interested in the minute hand on his watch ticking further and further away from the scheduled arrival and departure time. Not that he was in a hurry or anything, but bus punctuality was something everyone relied on. Maybe it was taking so long today just because he had whimsically decided to travel as far as he could before nightfall; his luck was terrible like that.
Crossing his arms against the last rays of sun, Hiroto settled back on a telephone pole to wait. A small crowd had developed the closer the scheduled time had approached. Now they were muttering impatiently amongst themselves, shuffling grocery bags from left hand to right, checking mobiles, and asking the time even though it had scarcely been seven minutes past their usual departure. A stranger was eyeing his adventurously blond hair funny, but he quickly looked away when Hiroto caught his eye.
You could always hear the hiss and roar of the bus before it rounded the corner, tires groaning under the burden of antsy feet and the weight of heavy metal while exhaust filled the air. Over time Hiroto had developed a game he liked to play with the bus driver - or rather it was his own one-sided play of guess where the bus door would open. Picking an auspicious looking chunk of curb, he would perch on his heels at the very edge of the sidewalk and wait for the bus to roll to a stop. More often than not he managed to be quite a distance off but, when he was right on the spot, the bus doors hissed open right at his feet and he got to be the first one on.
That usually decided whether or not he got a seat. First on was always first choice after all.
But today apparently wasn't his lucky day.
Frowning slightly at the queue forming ahead of him, Hiroto snapped out of his reverie and got in line, filing onboard as the last stragglers exited through the back.
---
From outside it was easy to see just how monstrous the bus was. Thick panels of glass, bumpers, gridded rubber and fitted metal took up almost the entire lane as the engine revved them forward. Above the windshield, a small screen lit up with the route number and next stop as they settled into the vehicle's ungainly sway.
From within a row of seats lined the bus on each side, metal poles and swinging handles punctuating the empty space all down the middle, while an accentuated gap warned passengers to keep clear of the back door while the bus was in motion. Hiroto was unfortunate enough to wind up clinging to one of the poles as they rocketed down the road, palms getting sweaty the harder he had to cling and feet ever-shifting to accommodate the bus's random brakes and accelerations.
Being in the middle was always an awkward situation, fingers clutching a handle for balance, armpits, crotch or behind thrust some way or another into a stranger's face. Hiroto tried to ignore the way his knees banged into the person sitting in front of him every time they rolled over a speed bump or pothole. Nevertheless, it was hard to miss the look of annoyance that crossed the other passenger's face.
It was like manning a ship though, a pirate adventure, holding onto a mast or swinging down from the ropes. He even imagined himself traveling through time as buildings and signs zipped past, anything to pass the long ride home. And a long ride home he sure had guaranteed himself.
---
Every ten minutes or so, the bus would pull to a stop and everyone would scuttle in and out like giant ants bringing useless bits and pieces back to store in their anthill. And the bus really was like a moving anthill at times, accumulating trash, dirt, food crumbs and germs until the bus company was forced to wipe the seats down every night and sweep the floors swept every morning. When it rained, it was as if the anthill were under attack. Everyone huddled, wet and shivering within the bus's sturdy walls but, as soon as they were made to venture out into the pouring rain, the ants would scatter as if the droplets burned.
As the minutes passed, Hiroto finally found himself the owner of a seat.
This time he was the one crammed as far back into the plastic cushions as possible; the pleasure of having a stranger's backside gravitating dangerously nearby, all his.
But eventually the crowd would thin down to as few as ten passengers and he would be able to breathe again.
---
He was a stranger to these parts of town, the shops and signs blurring past unfamiliar because he had never stepped beyond the boundaries of the bus lines he patroned. Everywhere else tended to be dangerous, shady areas where trouble was sure to crop up, so he stuck to going from Point A to Point B and no Point In-Betweens.
The bus jolted uneasily on the poorly paved road and Hiroto nearly slid clean off his seat. There were only two of them left he noticed as his hands fumbled for something to grasp onto. They were taking a different route today, somewhere really far out judging from the growing scarcity of streetlights. As they groaned and bumped and thudded along, the only thing Hiroto could make out through the inky black window was his own reflection doused glaringly bright in the bus's fluorescents. It made him look pale, sicklier looking then he actually was. Shadows had collected in thin bags under his eyes and their uneven journey made him look ruffled and the worse for wear despite the fact that he had woken up that morning from a good night's rest and made sure he was properly styled and clean before leaving.
Frowning at his haggard reflection, he let his gaze wander over to other passenger, intent on giving him a quick once over just for comparison's sake. It seemed to have been the wrong move, however, because, as soon as he hit face level, Hiroto was met with an intense gaze staring right back. He averted his eyes quickly, flushing with embarrassment and sincerely hoping that had been a complete coincidence even though the searching look in the other's face spoke otherwise.
Nothing about him seemed familiar so why would he be staring like that. Hiroto squirmed in his seat at the thought. Even paler skin than what his own, a lip piercing, narrow chin, distinct features Hiroto was sure he would have remembered seeing anywhere. And so he was sure he hadn't, had never seen the tall frame dressed in heavy combat boots, rolled up jeans and thick hoodie. He looked dangerous and Hiroto prayed they wouldn't get off at the same stop.
He wasn't given much more time to think as the bus heaved over another bump and the stranger took the opportunity to get up and settle down in the seat beside him. Hiroto's mind kicked into overdrive then, stories of victims randomly knifed on the bus, of whole buses being taken hostage by a single passenger with a gun, began surfacing and consuming his thoughts. His fingers twisted nervously in on themselves, eyes picking out all the closest exits, and ears waiting hopefully for the sound of the next stop. He would pretend to get off wherever it was and, if the stranger followed, would wait for him to get off then run back on the bus screaming at the driver to "GO, GO, GO!"
It was a mostly foolproof plan, maybe. And so, when the stranger reached out and grabbed for his arm, Hiroto knew he was screwed.
He immediately began to struggle while the stranger's grip instantly went for loose to harsh. Mouth opening to scream , a calloused hand clapped over it and effectively shut him up. The stranger was strong, painfully so, and Hiroto was helpless in the steely hold that held him in place, yanked him sideways and pushed him deeper into the seats. In the windows Hiroto could make out his own eyes, wide with fear and beginning to glisten, every muscle tense as he pushed and twisted in vain. The smell of cigarettes and cologne assaulted his nostrils before a rough voice hissed in his ear and broke through the panic.
Everything happened in the span of a minute. Only a few seconds for Hiroto to be overpowered and pressed into metal and plastic, only a few seconds for the adrenaline to pump through his veins and make his mind spin.
"I need you to stop struggling," the strange growled softly against his earlobe. "I'm not here to hurt you." Yeah, right. That's what they all say. "My name is Amano Shinji, my friends call me Tora. I work the night shifts in a warehouse downtown. I have two cats and I like to play guitar. I-" Hiroto wondered hysterically whether this short monologue was leading up to his untimely death. Having more than one cat and working alone at night was never a good sign. His stomach flipped nauseously as his assailant's words began to slur and not make sense. He wanted to hurl on the palm pressed against his lips, but he was pretty certain the hand currently smothering him wouldn't allow a single drop of stomach acid to even get past his forcibly sealed mouth and he would just end up choking on the bile.
"Stop that," Tora commanded sternly, voice still low as Hiroto made gagging sounds in the back of his throat. "I need you to trust me and I need to be able to trust you too if we're going to make it out of here alive." Hiroto had been pretty sure he was going to die five minutes ago.
"I think our driver is on a rampage."
Hiroto sucked in a heavy breath through his nose. Rampage. Wait, what? The word echoed heavily in his scrambled mind, a dangerous accusation Hiroto wasn't sure he should believe because of its incredulity, but he wanted to believe. It was sad, but he wanted to believe this stranger pressed too close didn't intend to harm him.
"You probably don't believe a word I'm saying and we're fucked if you won't even give me a chance, but I'm going to let you go in a minute. I need you to stay calm, don't panic, don't make a sound, don't try to run," he continued in a whisper barely audible over the bus's engine. Hiroto was mostly still now, trying to get a hold of his thoughts, to listen intently and contemplate his next move.
"In the seat next to me you'll find my mp3 player," Tora indicated behind him with a tilt of his head. "I'm going to go back to my seat. I want you to pick up the headphones and listen to what they're broadcasting on the radio. Listen for it. A rogue bus running red lights and steam-rolling innocent people." His words were utterly precise, the urgency evident in his eyes. "Eight injured, five dead."
"Look at the driver. If you believe me and think you can help me help us, take the seat next to me." And then he was gone, moving away just like he had promised with the next lurch of the bus. Hiroto was left by himself again, blood rushing back to numb lips where Tora had pressed too hard and heart still thrumming in his chest.
"Give me a chance." What reason did he have to trust a complete stranger who'd practically assaulted him? It didn't make sense. His instinct was to run, but where did one run to on a moving bus? Bus. They hadn't stopped in quite some time. Brow furrowing, Hiroto finally looked up from where he'd been contemplating the red marks fading from his arm. There he was, sitting there like he didn't have a care in the world. That didn't make sense either. Why give your victim the opportunity to retaliate?
Tora was slunk low in his seat, legs stretched out into the center of the bus, ignoring Hiroto as if his life really wasn't being threatened. But Hiroto could tell. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could pick out the focused way the other was staring at the ceiling, his whole body on alert and ready to spring into action. The knuckles of one hand were white and, Hiroto finally noticed, the other hand was pointing straight at the driver.
"I need you to stay calm, don't panic, don't make a sound, don't try to run."
Hiroto suddenly had to fight that very urge to panic. Everything was spiraling so quickly out of control. He hadn't paid much attention to the driver before now, just another bloated man with one too many chins and a balding head, but now he had taken on a sinister façade. Round specs were set in front of two beady eyes, age spots littering a sagging face, spittle dribbled down the corner of his lips and flecked the steering wheel in angry streaks.
He appeared to be in a constant state of outrage.
Though Hiroto couldn't make out anything in the vehicle's sweeping headlights, the driver was clearly throwing a fit. He was pointing angrily at the dark street, barking silent obscenities that every once in a while became small vocal swears when the driver threw his arms up in the arm and slammed on the brakes in apparent disapproval.
There wasn't anything there, Hiroto was sure of it.
As if on cue, he immediately caught sight of demonic eyes reflecting the headlights' glow. Deer scattered. The sure thump of something once living hit the bus's front and he finally realized with growing horror they weren't even on the road anymore.
Ignoring the crackly noises he could hear coming from the headphones, he was immediately on his feet and glued to Tora's side. The uneven ride, all the speed bumps and potholes, they had been people, limbs and loved ones all tangled up in the bus's massive tires.
The lights flickered ominously and he became frighteningly aware of how obvious he was being.
"Don't worry, I don't think he's noticed anything." The words were murmured reassuringly into his ear, a welcome contrast to the urgency of before even if pale eyes were looking elsewhere. Hiroto was eternally grateful he wasn't the only one in on this adventure. He tended to be more than just a little spacey and a terrible daydreamer. He probably wouldn't even have noticed what was going on until the driver had finally pulled over and skinned him alive. He shivered at the thought.
"Tell me something about yourself, what's your name?" Tora whispered, trying to distract the other momentarily from the situation, make sure he didn't freak out completely and get them both killed.
"Hiroto," the other barely breathed out. "My name's Hiroto. I-I have… I like- I don't know. I just- I just want to go home," he ended pathetically.
The other touched his leg sympathetically. "We will get you home, just work with me, okay?" Hiroto nodded. He hated how he couldn't be as strong as the other man right now. He had no choice but to try his best so what was with all this useless panic?
"I called for help, but I lost signal out here," Tora began softly. "He drove us off the main road as soon as some sirens were in hearing distance, but at least we're not anywhere crowded. They sent out a helicopter, I know that much, it's looking for us. My guess is that we're in the woods or the mountains or even driving through someone's field right now. I have no idea, but I don't think it would be a good idea to try and make a jump for it. With how fast he's going, we could break our necks and he could turn around run us over." He spoke calmly as they veered into the darkness, stray branches beating against the windows and a dirt path coming into view.
Unconsciously, Hiroto's fingers had gravitated towards him for comfort and were currently tangled in the material of Tora's sweater. Any other time and the gesture would have been cute, but now they needed to concentrate.
"He could go on like this all night and we can wait for him to stop, run out of gas, see what he does to us, but I'd rather have the element of surprise in our hands." They were sitting thigh to thigh so Hiroto didn't have to strain his ears to hear. "I only want to do this if you're ready but…"
"Just tell me the plan," Hiroto finally blurted in a whisper. He didn't want to be babied and they might not have much more time. Tora's lips almost twitched at the flare of determination, but he was too worried about their lives to notice.
"The plan is this. We need to move as fast as possible before he realizes what's happening. I'll grab his arms and try to stop the bus or at least stop him from hurting us while you unbuckle his seat belt and try to get his feet off the gas and onto the brakes. Can you do that?"
Hiroto nodded quickly. He could do that at least. It wasn't as hard as what Tora had assigned himself.
"I'll do my best to keep him under control and get him out of the seat. As soon as you can, try and bring us to a stop."
"Okay," Hiroto whispered, "Unbuckle him, get his feet out of the way, stop the bus."
"Whenever you're ready," Tora nodded faintly, looking a bit paler, as if he were steeling himself for the task.
Hiroto's fingers shook as he reached out to give the larger man's hand a squeeze.
---
Adventure was usually something you never set out for. It happened naturally, when you least expected, and when it was least desired. Like children exploring the great, wide wilderness, the real adventure didn't begin until some unfortunate child had tripped and scraped a knee or the entire lot of them started to itch with poison ivy.
For Hiroto, it hadn't taken him long to decide that he would rather stick to daily routine than go through this adventure.
They were on their feet now, bodies swaying with the bus as if in slow motion, though it only took a second before they had the driver surrounded on one side. Hiroto took an elbow to the head as he bent to clumsily undo the seatbelt, but then Tora was there staving off any other attacks. For what seemed like half an hour, hewrestled with trousered legs that suddenly seemed twice his size and double his weight.
It was all a blur of desperate motion, crazed eyes that glimmered to match lips screaming murder, meaty fists that seemed to pummel everywhere no matter how hard Tora tried, and the ever blaring horn signaling to all the world that something was amiss.
"Fuck," Tora swore as the driver managed to grab a hold of the large steering wheel and shove him into the dashboard. Hiroto let out a high yelp as fingers dug into his scalp and grabbed a fistful of hair. The bus was zigzagging erratically, miraculously avoiding any trees or ditches, when Tora finally got his footing back. Knuckles sunk into a bristly cheek and the momentum carried his hand into a nose breaking punch.
"Get the wheel!" Tora barked as he used all his strength to grab the manic driver around the neck and heave him off his seat.
It was unfortunate timing.
The minute Hiroto leaped for the steering wheel, Tora grabbed onto the driver and dropped to the ground. A fat wrist, thick with hidden muscle and attached to an unrelenting hand, snapped as the killer was hauled to the ground still attempting to clutch the steering wheel. It made no sense. Nothing about the situation made sense. All they knew was that they had to stop it from escalating. The sharp edge of the steps leading up into the bus slammed into the driver's temple and he was knocked unconscious, but not before he'd done his damage.
Before Hiroto had time to even grasp the wheel with his fingers, the bus took a sharp turn and crashed into a tree, spinning and flipping out of control amongst the splintered vegetation. Tora clung to the driver's dead weight, the metal bars, seats, anything to ground him as they literally flew through the air. He could hear the sound of choppers now, helicopter blades cutting through the sound of screaming metal and a blinding spotlight suddenly illuminating the horrific view they had of the foliage all around them.
It was the last thing Hiroto saw as he feet left the bus floor and his body went sailing through the windshield.
A/N:
Hell YEAH it ends right there… fml.
I was writing this for Halloween. Then Halloween passed. Then I didn't feel like finishing/posting. And now this.
BTW does my layout/font color and such make it hard to read? Comments please? :))
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