Prince the Ripper PART ONE
Title: Prince the Ripper
Author: Pain au Chocolat
Language: English
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used in this fiction, and I do not own the past. As in I don’t own Jack the Ripper. I’m just taking a history lesson and throwing some KHR characters into it, adding some gay romance and let’s see what happens…
Rating & Warnings: M. AU, OOC, yaoi, blood, murder, gore.
Summary: England, 1888 - When the first corpse of a female prostitute turned up with organs missing, no one knew that it was the beginning of a tale told by a psychotic genius in its goriest form…
Pairing: Belphegor x Tsuna
PART ONE
31st of August, 1888, Friday
“Finally finished,” a brown-haired young man, perhaps in his early twenties, sighed as he put away the papers he had been working on till now. According to the clock he could see hanging on the wall of the classroom, it was almost four in the morning, and soon the first teachers and staff members of the Board School of Whitechapel would be waking up. The school wasn’t big - it had four floors, two of which were mostly used for housing the students in two dormitories. Around hundred students, a bit less than dozen teachers and a chef formed a small, comfortable society of education and gave off the feel of a ‘family’ to those who didn’t have one.
’No wonder I’m tired,’ the young man thought and stood up, grabbing his coat. School would be starting in three hours, yet he preferred to go back home to check on his mother before coming back to teach. He left the fixed homework papers on his table and didn’t lock the door of the classroom, thinking that he’d be back soon.
Outside it was dark, damp and chilly - not unusual for London even during the summer, and the brunet shuddered slightly as he made his way down the seemingly empty Buck’s Row. He saw another man at the corner, looking at something, but didn’t stop or slow down, opting to walk past him instead.
“Hey excuse me,” called the man. “Come and look over here, please.” With a sigh, the teacher turned, not willing to refuse the request and thus come across as rude.
“What is it?” he asked and walked back to the man, who pointed at what he had been observing a moment ago. It was a woman lying on her back, skirts lifted almost to her waist, and the young teacher blushed with embarrassment.
“Probably drunk,” he muttered, averting his eyes to look elsewhere.
“Or a victim of an assault,” the other man added, and fixed her skirt for modesty’s sake. “You wouldn’t happen to know her?”
“Of course not!” the scandalized teacher exclaimed. The woman was obviously of lower morals with questionable chastity, and he didn’t associate with that sort. “Let’s look for a policeman. They might know how to help her.”
“Sounds fair enough,” replied the other man. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Agreeing to that, the teacher waited for quite a while, determined to avoid looking at the unconscious woman, and amusing himself by looking at the white-painted fences of the school. Perhaps he should make them write a short novel or a play…
“We’re back,” called a familiar voice and the teacher turned to see the earlier gentleman, accompanied by a policeman whom the teacher recognized - it was the feared Hibari Kyouya, and the one who had dared to commit a crime in his district had to be insane. Hibari was something akin to a spiky, poisonous projectile that could detect any criminal and strike with deadly precision inflicting fatal injuries upon the target. With an evil smile, to boot.
“Oh, good,” the teachers said. Hibari was a scary, but a capable person. He’d know what to do. “Let’s get this lady somewhere safe now.” He had barely uttered the words when the light of the policeman’s lantern revealed the state the woman was in. With a frightened shriek the teacher stumbled few steps back while the two other men rushed forward. The corpse - for the woman could be nothing but dead - had blood oozing from her throat which had been slashed from ear to ear. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the sky above them with unseeing eyes and even though her hands and wrists were cold, Hibari stated that he could feel the warmth still in them.
“Summon a doctor,” he told the man who had found him. “And hurry up.” Then he turned to the teacher and showed his badge. “I’m Police Constable Hibari Kyouya. I was told by the man whom I sent to bring a doctor that he found her first, and then you appeared. Did you see anyone suspicious?”
“No,” the teacher said weakly, all thoughts about school and seeing his mother now gone from his mind at the horrifying sight. He was rather startled by the seemingly unconcerned attitude the policeman had, but then again - the Constable was most probably a veteran and had seen other corpses beside this one. Being calm is what he was most likely trained to be. Besides, he was Hibari Kyouya. It was a wonder he didn’t smirk darkly and light the body up in fire.
“Wait here then,” Hibari then said. “I’ll go ask around in this neighbourhood to find out if they saw or heard anything out of ordinary.” It was odd, the teacher thought, that Hibari would notify him of what he’d be doing. One would think that an evasive, violent lone wolf would go on his own ways and not care enough to tell the others of theirs goings. Then again, Hibari wasn’t a man to do something unnecessary, and the teacher had a mild suspicion that the words weren’t to him, but to someone else who could possibly be still listening.
“You’re leaving me with the corpse!?” the teacher then exclaimed, but Hibari had already left. More than slightly frightened, the brunet leaned against the wall, few feet away from the corpse, and felt the cold sweep into him, all the way to his bones. He could hardly believe what had just been discovered. And how come he hadn’t noticed anything when straightening her skirts? Then again, it was dark. It was dark even now but he didn’t really mind that - it was better if he didn’t see the remains of that woman.
About fifteen minutes later Hibari came back, clearly irritated. He hadn’t found out anything worth mentioning, which was clearly upsetting the man. Soon after the ambulance came and a young doctor with silver hair and a fixed glare joined them.
“I was told by that idiot that there’s a-“
“Murdered woman,” Hibari interrupted, dislike towards the doctor evident in his voice. “Dr. Gokudera. I hoped that they would have sent someone…competent.” The glare of the doctor worsened tenfold, but he didn’t say anything as he bent down to examine the corpse.
“The wounds on her throat were the fatal ones,” he said. “She’s probably been dead for half an hour. I’ll be taking her to mortuary on Old Montague Street for further examination.” The young teacher, still in shock at the discovery felt a wave of nausea washing over him, and the man who had first found the body didn’t look much better either. Hibari stared at the two for a moment, before sneering.
“You two. Names.”
“Yamamoto Takeshi,” said the man who had first found the corpse. He was tall, with pitch black hair and twinkling brown eyes. Vaguely the teacher remembered him to be the son of a local tavern-owner, a well-liked man and an honest citizen.
“And you?” Hibari asked, and the teacher knew that the man was probably going to check their backgrounds or something like that. Oh dear, it didn’t much matter - the teacher didn’t think that he’d be singled out for being a Japanese immigrant, but one never knew…
“S-Sawada Tsunayoshi,” he replied.
The room he had rented for the week had a direct view to the crime scene, and that’s why he had chosen it. He sat there, ever since he had ended the life of that cockroach, playing with the knives he had used to do his work. The post-homicidal depression he was going through right now made him feel empty and in no way satisfied. He had thought that killing the woman would have made him feel lighter, and that it would have taken all the horrendous pressure off, but that didn’t happen.
There was no change. He was still as he had always been. Then again, it wasn’t the act of homicide that had gotten him excited, but the fantasy that accompanied and generated the anticipation that preceded the crime. It had been more stimulating than the immediate aftermath of the crime itself, and now he wanted more.
’Perhaps I need to try again,’ he thought, mind rationalizing and giving reasons and excuses to justify the future crimes. ’After the next one, I’ll stop.’ Then again, that had been the same thing he had thought of after the first murder…
Impassively he stared at the unfolding scene through his fringe. People gathered. First one, then another almost walked past but he was called back. Then a third, and soon there was a doctor and the body was carried away so he couldn’t see it anymore.
He had liked seeing the reactions of those who had discovered his work. The first man hadn’t done much but it was obvious that the brown-haired one had never seen a corpse in his life before. Even in darkness he could clearly see how the brunet had taken few steps back when he seemingly saw the wounds for the first time.
It was adorable, in a way.
Maybe he should get to know that person. And end up showing him more corpses just to see his reactions. It would surely be fun. The man thought about it for a few moments, eyes following the brunet’s figure, before he dismissed the idea. It wasn’t worth it.
He was, after all, like all those others.
Just a cockroach.
He turned away from the window, and gazed upon what he had gotten. Or well, bought. That woman had been, after all, a prostitute. Prostitutes sell themselves. They give themselves to get money. So he was just a customer like any other, only he wanted something lasting. Something more than a memory of a night. It was their fault, not his. Then again, even if it was his fault, he wouldn’t much care. He just… he just wanted something he could paint. He loved painting.
The man turned to stare through the window again. The darkness was fading and the morning would arrive, revealing the scene of the crime. Such a pity that the corpse was discovered in the darkness - he would have loved to hear how by-passing women and children would have screamed in shock and fear.
He sat there for several hours, staring expressionlessly at the scenery down. The only time he reacted to anything was when a brown-haired teacher went for the second time past the corner, hurried towards the school.
He smiled, then. A too-wide, insane smile.
“The ones who found the corpse,” Hibari muttered, looking down at the papers he had gotten. They were both men with respectable jobs and were rather well-liked, but that didn’t exclude them from being suspected.
“Yamamoto Takeshi was born the 24th of April 1866 in England, to an English mother and a Japanese father. Mother deceased, father owns a Eastern-styled tavern few blocks away where the son works. No other living relatives… and Sawada Tsunayoshi was born the 14th of October 1867 in Japan, but moved to England with his parents before he turned five. Speaks fluent English, Japanese and Italian and teaches literature in Whitechapel Boarding School near the crime scene. Grandparents died due to cholera years ago, and his father of unknown identity is missing. Sawada lives with his mother in a small house, within a walking distance from the school he works in.”
“You’re suspecting them?” said a new voice from the doorway, and Hibari looked up from the citizen profiles he was reading.
“Reborn,” he sneered at the world-class private detective. “I suspect everyone, you should know that.”
“I doubt it was either one of them.”
“This isn’t your case.”
“No,” the dark-haired man agreed mockingly. “But if you don’t catch the murderer soon, it will be. Have you even recognized the body yet?”
“Identification will be difficult,” Hibari hissed with narrowed eyes. While he felt reluctant respect towards Reborn for his skills and talents, he still hated the arrogant man. “Don’t you have anything else to investigate?”
“A friend of mine - you remember Iemitsu, don’t you? - told me to keep him updated about this case for some reason.”
“I see no reason why I should do anything for a commander who isn’t even present to take care of his job,” Hibari deadpanned. “Begone.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“Begone.”
“I got a call from Shamal,” Reborn continued, ignoring Hibari. “So it was Gokudera who inspected the body. He’s good and his report was better than what Shamal would have given. Apparently the neck of the victim was slashed twice, the cuts severing her windpipe and esophagus. Yet when the scene of the crime was inspected again there was very little blood. What do you make of that?”
“Most of the blood had soaked into her clothing,” Hibari stated, eyes gleaming. This was exactly the sort of mystery he liked to solve. “We discovered that her abdomen had been wounded and mutilated - it had a long, deep jagged knife wound along with several other cuts from the same instruments, running downward. The doctor determined that the woman had been bruised on the lower left jaw and I suppose that she was firs knocked out with a hit, and then killed.”
“Shamal’s theory suggests that her throat was cut after she was dead, since had she been alive then a strong jet of blood would have spurted from the wound and deluged the front of her clothing,” Reborn said. “But there was no blood at all on her chest or the corresponding part of her clothing. Interesting, eh? If this goes well you might get a raise, Hibari. And who knows, maybe even a promotion.”
“I do not fancy sitting in an office signing papers,” the raven-haired man snarled. “And if you have nothing useful to say, then you may leave.”
“You said that identification wouldn’t be easy. Why?”
“All she had on her was a comb, a broken mirror and a handkerchief, and the Lambeth Workhouse mark was on her petticoats. There were no identifying marks on her other inexpensive and well-worn clothes. She had a black straw hat with black velvet trim. If we were to give a description, we’d find thousand other women with the same looks.”
“Was she that ordinary looking?”
“Well, she was around five feet two inches tall with brown, greying hair which tells us something about her age. Brown eyes and several missing front teeth.”
“Isn’t that a start?” Reborn asked and turned to leave. “Spread the word about those details. Someone might give us a clue.”
“Us?” Hibari repeated. “Don’t include yourself as you please. This case is mine to solve, not yours.”
“So you say,” the older man smirked, and grabbed his fedora. “Find the killer before he kills again, Hibari Kyouya, or I will take over your case.”
After the police had dismissed them, Sawada Tsunayoshi and Yamamoto Takeshi weren’t quite sure of what to do. It felt somehow wrong to go on with their lives normally as if nothing had happened, but what else could they do? The two men had heard of each other before - both being rather well-liked in the area of Whitechapel - but this was the first time they had actually met, and for a while they both felt a tad bit awkward.
“I know that Whitechapel is known of its poverty and crime,” Yamamoto suddenly said. “But I have never witnessed this sort of murder before.”
“It was awful,” the shorter man agreed. “I hope the killer will be caught quickly. That poor woman… Then again, with these crowded tenements, narrow darkened slum streets and alleys; one can’t help but think that it’s a perfect place for a murderer to commit his deed.”
“True, but Hibari’s on the case, and he’s pretty damn competent. I’m sure nothing like this will happen anymore. By the way, I’m not sure whether or not you know already, but I’m Yamamoto Takeshi. Please call me Takeshi.”
“I’m Sawada Tsunayoshi… but I’m usually called Tsuna,” the teacher replied with a sad smile. “I’m sorry to have met you under such terrible circumstances.”
“No kidding,” Yamamoto agreed. “I guess I have to start warning people at the tavern.”
“And I need to hurry to check on my mother,” Tsuna said. “See you around, Takeshi.”
“Drop by the tavern sometime!” the tall, dark-haired man suggested with a smile. “I promise you won’t regret the visit.”
“Sure thing,” Tsuna replied, and waved to the man before turning towards his mother’s house. He’d have to hurry - what had happened had wasted considerable amount of time, and it was a bit past six already. School would start at half past seven, and even if his mother’s house was pretty near, he didn’t want to risk being late.
“Good morning,” the young teacher called, after entering the house. Compared to the living arrangements of the majority of who live in Whitechapel, the Sawada mother and son had it fine and easy. The two-story house with its own small garden and protective walls was a day-dream of many dirt-poor citizens. Nana, a housewife with a mysterious never-there husband was kind and loved, as was her son who would never turn away a person in need.
“Why are you so late?” his mother asked. “I was a bit worried since you have never spent the night away without telling me first, Tsu.”
“I was grading homework till four,” Tsuna told her, taking off his shoes and coat. “And then - you won’t believe what I stumbled upon on my way here.”
“Oh no,” Nana gasped. “I hope it’s not another beaten woman.”
“Beaten woman?” Tsuna repeated, and his mother nodded.
“Yeah. Lately some women around here have been attacked but an unidentified man. From you reaction I suppose that wasn’t it?”
“No,” the brunet admitted. “Instead, there was a corpse.”
“Oh my God,” Nana whispered. “How awful! How did it happen? Was the culprit captured?”
“No,” Tsuna said grimly. “The killer is still on the loose. I want you to be careful.”
“Oh, I doubt that he’ll break into anyone’s house!”
“I’d rather you’d still call a relative to live with us. Just in case, for the nights I won’t be here. ”
“You work too much, Tsu,” Nana sighed, twirling one light brown lock between her fingers. “But very well, I will call Haru-chan. Say, honey, you look exhausted. How about you take a nap now?”
“Can’t. I just came to check on you and grab something to eat. Then I’ll have to go back to school.” Going back to normal life and normal routines didn’t seem so difficult anymore, and while Tsuna couldn’t forget about what had happened, he didn’t think about it all the time either.
For ten days, at least.
Few days after the discovery of the body found Reborn yet again asking Hibari for details about the crime. And while the younger police officer wasn’t fond of sharing information, he knew he had to - if only to get later on information from Reborn as a payback.
“The body was identified,” Hibari said. “Mary Ann Nichols, nicknamed ‘Polly’, prostitute aged 42. Lived in a lodging house at 18 Thrawl Street.”
“Prostitute,” Reborn muttered. “It’s not a big surprise that someone would kill a prostitute.”
“What makes this case different, then?”
“Nothing. If the killer does nothing and isn’t caught in the next few weeks, close the case and focus on something more urgent.”
“I don’t quit my cases,” Hibari hissed with narrowed eyes. “I’ll capture the bastard who thought he could get away with breaking the rules during my watch.”
“Pissed off much, huh?” Reborn grinned. “Do you have any clues yet?”
“The murderer left nothing behind in the way of witnesses, weapon or any other type of clue. None of the residents nearby heard any kind of disturbance, nor did any of the workmen in the area notice anything unusual,” Hibari said.
“Odd,” Reborn muttered. “Yet even though Polly was found very shortly after her death, no one suspicious was seen around?”
“Yes. No vehicle or person was seen escaping the scene of the crime. I did a check on the three horse slaughterers who work nearby, but they have solid alibis covering their tracks.”
“So the criminal lives close enough to the place of the murder?” Reborn asked with a slight spark of amusement. Hibari snarled.
“Either that,” he hissed. “Or it was one of the two men who supposedly found it.”
“I can tell you it’s not Sawada,” Reborn said easily.
“You know the man?” Hibari sneered. “Just because you know him doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t have done it.”
“Of course,” the detective said calmly. “I’m not so naïve as to say that he’s innocent just because I know him. No, but I know a reason as to why it would have been impossible for Sawada Tsunayoshi to kill that woman.”
“Share the reason, then,” Hibari demanded, but Reborn shook his head.
“Can’t. Take my word, kid.”
“How do you know him anyway?”
“Some way. He doesn’t know me, though.”
“So you don’t suspect him at all? What about the other herbivore?”
“Yamamoto Takeshi,” Reborn muttered. “I don’t think it’s this guy either, though I wouldn’t trust him too much just in case. Yamamoto is known as a very warm and friendly, and is rarely seen not smiling. He’s also said to be very naïve to the uglier side of life. Much like your new assistant.”
“That guy?” Hibari scoffed and glanced at the newest addition to his team. A green-eyed young man with curly black hair was staring sullenly at something. What that something was, Hibari didn’t care enough to find out. “Lambo Bovino. Italian. Useless. Weak and cries too much.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Reborn said with a slight smirk. “I suggest enlisting both Yamamoto and Sawada to help.”
“And why would I do that?” was the icy response.
“Yamamoto works in a tavern where everyone goes,” the older man stated. “He can find out a lot by listening into conversations. Sawada works at a popular school and his mother is a housewife who knows everyone in the area - that too is a valuable source of information. Change in behaviours, sudden desires to move away, evident nonchalance or visible elation at the murder of Polly Nichols can be tracks leading us to the killer. Have you investigated her friends and family? What is known about her?”
“She was the daughter of a locksmith, and her mother is unknown. She married William Nichols, a printer’s machinist, and they had five herbivores since, apparently, after having the first two they could hardly feed, getting three more seemed like a good idea.”
“Continue without the commentary, will you?” Reborn requested, and Hibari sneered but complied.
“Her drinking problem caused the marriage to break few years ago, and for the most part this woman has been living off the small earnings as a prostitute, wasting it on a drinks first, lodging place second if whoever purchased her for the night didn’t take her anywhere. The children were with the father, unsurprisingly. Every once in a while Polly Nichols would try to get her life back together, and fail spectacularly, only succeeding in coming across as a sad, pitiable, destitute woman. Yet, she was well-liked and didn’t have any enemies who would have possibly seen reason enough to kill her.”
“So what do you think? The conclusion?”
“You know already,” Hibari stated with cold, narrowed eyes. “You knew from the beginning that we’re not dealing with a single murder case, but with a threat of a serial killer in the making. And because of that you even dug out the details of the Tabram case.”
“True,” Reborn admitted nonchalantly. “About three weeks before Polly was killed, prostitute known as Martha Tabram was murdered in a manner that greatly resembles this case. And dealing with this sort of killing beasts is always tricky since they don’t feel emotions the way normal people do and therefore are harder to predict. Then again, consequently, when their guard is down, they may say or do things that reveal their lack of concern for others and their absence of conscience. And that’s something Yamamoto can help us with, since he can pretty easily listen into other people’s conversations.”
“I doubt it would be of much merit,” Hibari said. “The killer might be a very accomplished one and possess the ability to carry on two different lives without alerting anyone. That’s why I hate those two-faced herbivores. I can spot a regular criminal a mile away, but a beast like that? Who could?” At this Reborn smirked.
“Not many,” the man admitted. “Actually, when one of my professors of criminal justice was asked how one could tell if a psychopath lived next door, his response was ‘You wouldn't. You would have to know every segment of their life and be able to tie it all together.’ Give him regular clothes and he’ll be just another nameless, faceless bystander. Yet there is someone who’s a bit… sensitive to these psychopaths.” At this Hibari’s interest was clearly aroused, and he looked up from his papers again. Reborn was smirking at him, and the older detective grabbed one of the files lying on Hibari’s table.
“Someone…,” he said with a surprisingly gentle voice. “Someone special…”
“Special?” Hibari repeated impatiently, and blinked as a paper from the file was shoved in front of him.
“Special with an… intuition,” Reborn said, and the younger of the two looked down on the paper again, eyes widening slightly.
Sawada Tsunayoshi.
4th of September, 1888, Tuesday
He had ventured out of his rented apartment to get something to eat, and he felt illogical anger at how normal everyone was acting. As if they had no reason to be scared of him. Did they think that he wouldn’t be able to kill them? Trash, he’d show them soon enough. He’ll show them and make fear sweep into their bones till--
“Mr. Belphegor,” a jovial voice called, and with a practiced smile the man turned to the talker.
“Mrs. Porter, how do you do?” he said, and laughed inside when the old woman, mother of three and his landlady decided to tell him a detailed, completely fictional What Happened To Polly Nichols tale. She didn’t know that this seemingly polite, handsome young man in front of her was the ‘beast’ she was referring to. There he was, standing in front of her, dressed in a white cotton shirt, dark brown trousers and a jacket of same colour. A well-worn hat rested on his blond curls, and no one knew that during blood-filled nights the hat was replaced by a crown of the finest craft.
“Horrible news,” he stated, clearly appalled, and Mrs. Porter was nodding vigorously.
“Oh yes it is,” she crowed. “Poor thing, that Polly Nichols, never got her happy ending. Oh? Who’s there? Well if it isn’t Tsunayoshi!”
“Molly,” a warm, if a bit tired voice, said and Belphegor turned to see the brunet who had been one of the first two who had discovered his first victim’s corpse. The blond had to make conscious effort to hold back the wide grin the threatened to make an appearance.
“Are the students trying your health, Tsunayoshi?” Mrs. Porter sighed. “You need to rest, don’t you agree, Mr. Belphegor?”
“Quite,” the blond said, and Tsuna was suddenly overcome by an odd feeling, yet he decided to ignore it for now. Who has he to start judging strangers? So he held back a shudder and gave the taller man a kind smile.
“I’m Sawada Tsunayoshi, please call me Tsuna. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure,” Belphegor replied. “Is all mine.”
“Tsunayoshi is one of the best teachers at the local school,” Mrs. Porter said. “And Tsunayoshi, Mr. Belphegor is an Italian artist. I’m sure you have heard of his gallery Criantemo?” Tsuna nodded, clearly impressed. Galleries of painted art were rare, and only for the upper class nobles to attend. And Criantemo was known of its prestige. Yet it struck the brunet as odd that if Mr. Belphegor was so successful, surely he’d have the money to buy himself better clothes? Or did he have something else to spend money on? The rent couldn’t be that expensive.
’It’s none of my business,’ Tsuna told himself firmly, and beamed at the artist, who yet again wondered privately how quickly the adorable smile would melt off at the sight of a new corpse.
“I was going to grab some lunch,” Belphegor said, eyes perhaps, maybe fixed on Tsunayoshi - it was hard to see that, since the blond man’s fringe was too long and hid half of his face. “Would you like to tag along?”
“Oh, I would love to,” Mrs. Porter exclaimed, mistakenly thinking of herself as the one being invited. “But I have to go and check on my children at the dame school. I’m sure that Tsunayoshi would love to accompany you on my behalf.”
“Ah, sure,” the brunet stuttered. “I was, too, on my way to get something to eat. Have you been at Yamamoto’s tavern yet?”
“No,” Belphegor replied. “But I have heard of it and it seems like the most plausible destination for us now. Shall we go?”
“Sure,” Tsuna said, and let the taller man lead the way. “So, are you new in the area?”
“Quite. I moved here a bit over a month ago.”
“And how have you liked it so far?” Tsuna asked, and the other man’s unnerving smile made yet another appearance, making the brunet tense and wish to leave, and leave the country while he was at it.
“It’s fascinating,” Belphegor stated. “Has its good and bad parts. This East End of London is a place outcast from the city, both economically and socially, and it’s revolting how the cattle and sheep are herded through the streets of Whitechapel to the slaughterhouses behind every corner, soaking the streets with blood and guts. Add to that rubbish and liquid sewage… The stench tends to be awful. Yet in all of its misery, I do indeed find this place oddly fascinating.”
“Yet it’s dangerous,” Tsuna muttered. “Have you heard of the two murders last August?”
“Two?” Belphegor asked innocently. “I heard of only one.”
“Martha Tabram was found dead the 4th of August,” the brunet explained quietly. “People don’t show it, but everyone’s pretty startled and the prostitutes afraid. The murders are odd in the sense that no one can think of a motive since both victims were poorest of the poor.”
“Perplexing indeed,” Belphegor muttered, and Tsuna nodded.
“Naturally, people have different theories, but for example the idea of the attacks being made by a gang of thieves is absurd - a thief needs something to steal. Those women didn’t have anything worth stealing. Similarly the rumours of a gang extorting money from prostitutes penalizing the women for failing to pay are improbable.”
“So, what do you believe?” the blond man asked quietly, trying to hide the delight in his voice. And while he succeeded in that, Tsuna regardless felt a chill wash over him. He swallowed and looked up at the taller man with a serious expression.
“Some say that a maniac is on the loose.”
“Is that what you think?” Belphegor asked softly, and Tsunayoshi shrugged.
“It’s a possibility. Why would he kill prostitutes? Only for the sake of killing?”
“There are sick people in this world,” the Italian man said nonchalantly. “Shall we talk about something else? I don’t much like discussing murders when I’m about to eat.” It was a lie, of course. Belphegor had nothing against talking about murders at any time in the midst of any activity, but normal people didn’t do it. And to Tsunayoshi, he wanted to appear as normal as possible.
“Oh sure,” the brunet exclaimed, and smiled with relief as they reached the Yamamoto tavern. Inside, a tall raven-haired young man saw the immediately, and waved with a bright smile. With mild surprise Belphegor recognized him to be the one to first discover the body at the Buck’s Row.
“Tsuna!”
“Good afternoon, Yamamoto,” the young teacher greeted, and the owner’s son laughed.
“I told you to call me Takeshi, didn’t I?” he asked as Tsunayoshi and Belphegor sat down. Since most of everyone was still working at this hour, the place was emptier than usually and they found seats with relative ease.
“So,” Tsunayoshi started after they had ordered for the usual. “Can I ask about your art? Personally I really adore paintings…”
Whoever killed the two prostitutes was, without a doubt, a sicko. Gokudera Hayato, a half Italian, half Japanese man and Dr. Shamal’s most gifted pupil knew now that the psycho who did this had to be caught even if it meant more credit for that bastard Hibari.
For some reason the fact that the killer had taken a different organ from the prostitutes and paid for his ‘purchase’ made him seem more than just a regular murderer and downright disturbing and wrong. He hadn’t just stabbed and left - he had done his work carefully, with enough time, determination and completely void of hesitance. Most probably planned it all, thought about it for hours.
“How is it going?” asked a voice from the doorway, and Gokudera looked up from his work.
“Mr. Reborn,” the silver-haired man greeted. “What brings you here?”
“Curiosity,” the dark-haired man replied calmly, stepping forward. “So, any information?”
“None,” the doctor admitted. “I have never seen something like this, and I can’t understand why someone would kill without a motivation, a reason.”
“There’s always a reason,” Reborn stated. “We’re just yet to figure it out.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“Leather Apron. I’m sure you have heard of the man. Hobbies include beating up prostitutes.”
“Five feet five? Thick neck, dark hair, small moustache and around his forties?”
“Correct.”
“That man might, morally speaking, find it in himself to do it, but he couldn’t have done this,” Gokudera stated. “He’s too clumsy for clean cuts like this, and he’s got no knowledge of human anatomy. He couldn’t have extracted the organs so cleanly without bruising any of the others. I wouldn’t be surprised if the ones he’s gotten so far - kidneys and a liver - are in an unharmed state too. Actually I’m sure they’re perfectly cut.”
“Well said,” Reborn smirked. “Hibari said that too.”
“That bastard?”
“He’s competent.”
“Still, he’s a bastard.”
“Well, you’ll just have to learn how to tolerate him. Since this case will need a good team to solve it,” Reborn started, smirking at the silver-haired doctor. “And both you and he are in that team.”
“What? Reborn, with all due respect, why are you even investigating this? One would think that a detective of your status would have other, more fascinating cases to figure out. I do not see why you’re getting caught up in this case.”
“Because it is interesting,” the dark-haired man stated. “And it is important. Don’t bother thinking about it and stick to what you can manage.”
“Which is: inspect the bodies,” a new voice said mockingly, and Gokudera stiffened. If he disliked Hibari, he then downright hated…
“Rokudo Mukuro,” he hissed, eyes narrowed. The man in question was a talented Italian psychiatrist who specialized in criminal mind analysis. He was almost six feet tall, with dark blue hair and mismatched eyes of red and blue - to say that he stood out in the crowd would be an understatement. However due to his undeniably good looks and rather respectable fortune, no one dared to say a crossword regarding the way he looked. “What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be making money in Rome, bastard?”
“Reborn informed me of this fascinating case,” Mukuro replied with a shrug. “And since nothing of the like is going on in Italy, I decided to check this one. So interesting it is that I have agreed to even work in a team. With you and Hibari Kyouya, no less.”
“Way to go, Reborn,” Gokudera scoffed. “Well done in gathering enemies into a team.”
“You don’t have to be friends,” the older man stated calmly. “All you need to do is to work together for a short while. There are four more who’ll join us in this case.”
“Four?” Mukuro repeated. “That’s a lot, considering that none of us likes groups.”
“It’s necessary,” Reborn said. “Work on making a basic profile of the murderer. Generic is alright, since I doubt you’ll be finding anything personal from the past two murders.”
“You might get surprised,” Mukuro replied. “I’m not the best for nothing.”
“So you say,” Gokudera snorted. “So, when will we find out about the remaining four?”
“Soon enough,” Reborn told him, and turned to leave. “Till then, focus and extract as much information as you can.”
5th of September, 1888, Wednesday
Brown locks darker than they usually were, drenched by sweat. Moans escaping the pink lips and a petite, lithe body writhing beneath the blond.
“You’re bloody perfect like this,” he gasped between shallow breaths. “I have… come so many times inside you, yet I still--”
“Nngh… More,” the brunet groaned. “Please. Ah… I… need… more.”
“Aahh… you’re also starting to… feel… good.”
The whole damned night. Not a wink of sleep due to disturbing dreams that he hated to have, yet longed to see again due the sheer pleasure they gave him. That was the reason why he had woken up so early.
It wasn’t even seven in the morning, and Belphegor was making his way down the street to buy some apples when he saw his New Favourite Person - Tsunayoshi. The brunet was reading the Star magazine with a focused expression and didn’t see the artist approaching till the blond was standing right next to him.
“Something interesting?” he asked, and the young teacher yelped with surprise.
“Mr. Belphegor,” Tsunayoshi then pouted. “You startled me!”
“What are you reading?” Bel asked, and the brunet showed him an article the Italian man had most certainly not expected to see.
“They claim that he resembles the killer,” Tsunayoshi said. “Leather Apron. I have never even heard of the man.” Belphegor had, and wasn’t flattered at all at the mistake. How could they think that someone like that could commit operations of such delicacy as he? Absurd!
“It seems that people here can’t talk of anything else but the murders, nowadays,” the blond stated, and Tsunayoshi nodded.
“I’m not surprised - this is rather scary.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Perhaps a bit alarmed.”
“Don’t be,” Belphegor said, hot breath hitting Tsunayoshi’s rapidly reddening cheeks. “Methinks he targets women. And not any women, but just prostitutes. You’re neither so I think you can relax.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” the brunet muttered, feeling rather hot. Why was he reacting like that to the taller man’s close proximity? Disturbing. And alarming, too.
“Where are you going?” Belphegor asked then, and Tsuna pointed at Buck’s Row and what lay behind it.
“To school. It’s soon seven and I need to prepare the classroom.”
“And when will your workday end?”
“Around five, why?”
“A friend recommended watching a play at the Pavilion,” Bel lied nonchalantly. He had purchased the tickets of a popular play a short while ago just to have a chance to invite Tsuna to go with him there. “The seats are supposedly on high demand.”
“To watch the Lady from the Sea? My mother went to see it and said it was adorable,” Tsuna chuckled, and ignored the blush he was, without a doubt, sporting. “I’d love to see it.”
“Great!” the blond exclaimed. “I’ll wait for you here at five.”
“Okay. See you then.”
’I don’t know what I’m doing,’ Belphegor admitted inwardly to himself, while staring through his fringe after the brunet. Yes, he wanted to fuck the man, but he knew that he couldn’t risk it. He should have no bonds or relationships that would endanger his project. Oh well, perhaps after today’s date he could start distancing himself from Tsunayoshi.
Surprisingly, that idea didn’t sound appealing at all.
Several hours later found the two men once again together, heading towards the theatre. The Pavilion was a large East-end theatre capable of holding considerably over 3000 persons. Melodrama of a rough type, farce and pantomime were usual to the place, yet the newest hit The Lady from the Sea was none of those.
Tsuna enjoyed watching the play - the actors were superb and the whole place was amazing. Belphegor, on the other hand, enjoyed watching the changing expressions on the brunet’s face.
’Well, maybe there’s no need to ward him off me quite yet. Soon. Just… not now…’
“It was so lovely,” Tsunayoshi sighed as he exited the Pavilion. Belphegor shrugged.
“Too romantic for my liking.”
“I guess you’re just not a romantic man,” the brunet teased, and the other man turned to him with a smirk.
“I can be very romantic,” he murmured. “With the right person.” For some reason these word made Tsuna flush deep red and look elsewhere, completely missing the unnaturally wide grin of the blond, that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“Then again,” the artist said, catching Tsuna’s attention. “Love is just a feeling. It can’t save this world.”
“But it can change it,” Tsuna claimed. “Not in an instant, perhaps, but with time and patience… and true love… I’m sure that many things could be changed. Because loving someone gives your courage, and being loved gives you strength.”
“Is that so?” Bel muttered, not feeling giddy anymore.
“May I ask… who do you love the best?” Tsunayoshi asked, and the blond man stopped walking, and turned to the brunet again. A moment of silence fell over the two before the artist spoke.
“Myself,” he said. “Because there is no longer anyone for me to place before my own life.” Belphegor might not have realized it, but Tsuna could clearly see the loneliness in the hollow words. To be alone like that… no wonder he didn’t understand love. Tears of sympathy in his eyes, the brunet reached to grasp the taller man’s hand.
“One day you’ll find someone,” Tsuna assured the visibly surprised blond. “Someone you’ll be able to love. And when that someone loves you back, you’ll see that it’s the most beautiful thing in this world. The most… precious.” At that moment something changed in Belphegor. Nothing about the world or the people in it, no. The people were still nothing but two-dimensional trash to him that deserved to die in some corner for all he cared.
Because of his psychopathic nature, Belphegor hadn’t known how to feel sympathy for others, or even how to have relationships. Instead he had learned through observing others how to simulate and mimic normal behaviour. It had all been an act for the purpose of not sticking out when the murders happen around him. Belphegor had never understood why people couldn’t accept the fact that some men killed just because they wanted to kill… what was one less person on the face of the earth anyway?
But now, when he looked at the warm brown eyes of the man standing next to him, the blond serial killer felt something foreign - it was like a wave, threatening his consciousness and made him both wary and excited. He knew that this man mattered. Sawada Tsunayoshi wasn’t just ‘one insignificant person on the face of the earth’, not like all the others. It was as if in a greyscale world only he and Tsunayoshi were full of colours.
It was an odd feeling, without a doubt.
The gloved hand clasping his held firmly as they walked. It might have been a bit of an odd sight - two grown men holding hands - but neither really cared. And more than anything before, Belphegor knew one thing.
He didn’t want to let go of that hand.
It was the evening of that same day, when Reborn found himself standing in front of the Sawada household, thinking of what to say to the young man he was about to meet.
Less than an hour earlier he had ordered Hibari to go and fetch Gokudera, Yamamoto, Mukuro and Lambo and take them to the office. Now he was on his way to get the remaining two members of their team - one of the two being Sawada Tsunayoshi, the boy with the sixth sense intuition.
Reborn remembered, years and years ago, when he had first seen the scrawny brat. Sawada Iemitsu, the boy’s father and his former boss had been so proud of his son and wife, having their pictures practically all over the office. Reborn had even met his wife, Nana. But all that had happened before Iemitsu disappeared while trailing a criminal all the way to Italy.
“-and I think the actress playing the Lady’s role was very skilled,” a bright, familiar voice interrupted Reborn’s musings and out of habit the detective moved away to go unnoticed. Tsunayoshi was walking with a tall, blond man, talking animatedly about something. The stranger’s eyes were covered with his fringe and the unnaturally wide grin that made a quick appearance from time to time gave Reborn a feeling of something sinister. Yet something in the manner the man was treating Tsunayoshi, something in the way he leaned closer as to not miss a single word, something in the way he walked next to the brunet… gave the detective veteran also a feeling that to Tsunayoshi, this stranger was no threat.
He watched silently as the blond refused an invitation to enter the house, countering it with an invitation for dinner some other day, which Tsunayoshi accepted. From an outsider’s point of view the way the two men interacted was highly questionable and even a bit improper, but Reborn wasn’t one to care for people’s private lives if it didn’t involve interesting crimes, and so he decisively opted to ignore what he was seeing.
A few minutes after the blond man had left and Tsunayoshi had entered the house, the detective finally emerged from his hide and quickly walked towards the front door, and rang the doorbell. Unsurprisingly it was Tsunayoshi who opened the door, with shoes still in his feet and cheeks still flush from the cold.
“I’m Reborn, chief detective of Whitechapel branch,” the man introduced himself. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Oh, sure,” Tsunayoshi exclaimed. “Come on in, please.” Reborn entered the house and felt uncharacteristic nostalgia - the place hadn’t changed at all. He could almost imagine Iemitsu sitting in the living room, drinking sake and appearing as unprofessional as possible.
“There’s no need for tea. Or anything else,” Reborn said as Tsunayoshi moved towards the kitchen.
“Oh,” the younger brunet muttered, obviously put off. “How can I… um… help you?”
“I’m certain that you have heard of the two murders that happened during last month,” the detective said, handing two pictures to Tsunayoshi. “7th of August, Martha Tabram. 31st of August, Mary Nichols. You found the latter.”
“W-well, it wasn’t really me,” Tsuna stuttered, worry and confusion in his eyes. “But I didn’t see anything suspicious back then.”
“I’m not here to ask about the past,” Reborn stated. “I’m here to ask you to help us with the investigation. I’m gathering a team consisting of people whose skills are needed to solve this case. You’re one of them.”
“I don’t know how I could help,” Tsunayoshi admitted. “I mean…”
“For now,” the detective interrupted. “All I need is for you to be present. The rest will work itself out.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Just come with me and I’ll explain everything better later, to the whole team. Do you have time now?”
“Yes,” Tsunayoshi said. “I… I do.”
“Good,” Reborn muttered. “Now we’ll have to first drop by the train station and fetch an acquaintance of mine who’ll also be aiding us.”
“A-and then?”
“Then we’ll go back to the office where the rest of our team will have gathered. Or actually, tell you what, you go there and I’ll be coming soon after.”
“EH!?” Tsunayoshi exclaimed with slight panic. “Go there on my own?”
“You can do that, can’t you?” Reborn’s odd smile was mocking and barely there, and Tsunayoshi didn’t find it in himself to refuse. He nodded meekly.
“S-see you there, then.”
___________________________________________________________________
END PART ONE
(go to part two)
___________________________________________________________________
Author: Pain au Chocolat
Language: English
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used in this fiction, and I do not own the past. As in I don’t own Jack the Ripper. I’m just taking a history lesson and throwing some KHR characters into it, adding some gay romance and let’s see what happens…
Rating & Warnings: M. AU, OOC, yaoi, blood, murder, gore.
Summary: England, 1888 - When the first corpse of a female prostitute turned up with organs missing, no one knew that it was the beginning of a tale told by a psychotic genius in its goriest form…
Pairing: Belphegor x Tsuna
PART ONE
31st of August, 1888, Friday
“Finally finished,” a brown-haired young man, perhaps in his early twenties, sighed as he put away the papers he had been working on till now. According to the clock he could see hanging on the wall of the classroom, it was almost four in the morning, and soon the first teachers and staff members of the Board School of Whitechapel would be waking up. The school wasn’t big - it had four floors, two of which were mostly used for housing the students in two dormitories. Around hundred students, a bit less than dozen teachers and a chef formed a small, comfortable society of education and gave off the feel of a ‘family’ to those who didn’t have one.
’No wonder I’m tired,’ the young man thought and stood up, grabbing his coat. School would be starting in three hours, yet he preferred to go back home to check on his mother before coming back to teach. He left the fixed homework papers on his table and didn’t lock the door of the classroom, thinking that he’d be back soon.
Outside it was dark, damp and chilly - not unusual for London even during the summer, and the brunet shuddered slightly as he made his way down the seemingly empty Buck’s Row. He saw another man at the corner, looking at something, but didn’t stop or slow down, opting to walk past him instead.
“Hey excuse me,” called the man. “Come and look over here, please.” With a sigh, the teacher turned, not willing to refuse the request and thus come across as rude.
“What is it?” he asked and walked back to the man, who pointed at what he had been observing a moment ago. It was a woman lying on her back, skirts lifted almost to her waist, and the young teacher blushed with embarrassment.
“Probably drunk,” he muttered, averting his eyes to look elsewhere.
“Or a victim of an assault,” the other man added, and fixed her skirt for modesty’s sake. “You wouldn’t happen to know her?”
“Of course not!” the scandalized teacher exclaimed. The woman was obviously of lower morals with questionable chastity, and he didn’t associate with that sort. “Let’s look for a policeman. They might know how to help her.”
“Sounds fair enough,” replied the other man. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Agreeing to that, the teacher waited for quite a while, determined to avoid looking at the unconscious woman, and amusing himself by looking at the white-painted fences of the school. Perhaps he should make them write a short novel or a play…
“We’re back,” called a familiar voice and the teacher turned to see the earlier gentleman, accompanied by a policeman whom the teacher recognized - it was the feared Hibari Kyouya, and the one who had dared to commit a crime in his district had to be insane. Hibari was something akin to a spiky, poisonous projectile that could detect any criminal and strike with deadly precision inflicting fatal injuries upon the target. With an evil smile, to boot.
“Oh, good,” the teachers said. Hibari was a scary, but a capable person. He’d know what to do. “Let’s get this lady somewhere safe now.” He had barely uttered the words when the light of the policeman’s lantern revealed the state the woman was in. With a frightened shriek the teacher stumbled few steps back while the two other men rushed forward. The corpse - for the woman could be nothing but dead - had blood oozing from her throat which had been slashed from ear to ear. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the sky above them with unseeing eyes and even though her hands and wrists were cold, Hibari stated that he could feel the warmth still in them.
“Summon a doctor,” he told the man who had found him. “And hurry up.” Then he turned to the teacher and showed his badge. “I’m Police Constable Hibari Kyouya. I was told by the man whom I sent to bring a doctor that he found her first, and then you appeared. Did you see anyone suspicious?”
“No,” the teacher said weakly, all thoughts about school and seeing his mother now gone from his mind at the horrifying sight. He was rather startled by the seemingly unconcerned attitude the policeman had, but then again - the Constable was most probably a veteran and had seen other corpses beside this one. Being calm is what he was most likely trained to be. Besides, he was Hibari Kyouya. It was a wonder he didn’t smirk darkly and light the body up in fire.
“Wait here then,” Hibari then said. “I’ll go ask around in this neighbourhood to find out if they saw or heard anything out of ordinary.” It was odd, the teacher thought, that Hibari would notify him of what he’d be doing. One would think that an evasive, violent lone wolf would go on his own ways and not care enough to tell the others of theirs goings. Then again, Hibari wasn’t a man to do something unnecessary, and the teacher had a mild suspicion that the words weren’t to him, but to someone else who could possibly be still listening.
“You’re leaving me with the corpse!?” the teacher then exclaimed, but Hibari had already left. More than slightly frightened, the brunet leaned against the wall, few feet away from the corpse, and felt the cold sweep into him, all the way to his bones. He could hardly believe what had just been discovered. And how come he hadn’t noticed anything when straightening her skirts? Then again, it was dark. It was dark even now but he didn’t really mind that - it was better if he didn’t see the remains of that woman.
About fifteen minutes later Hibari came back, clearly irritated. He hadn’t found out anything worth mentioning, which was clearly upsetting the man. Soon after the ambulance came and a young doctor with silver hair and a fixed glare joined them.
“I was told by that idiot that there’s a-“
“Murdered woman,” Hibari interrupted, dislike towards the doctor evident in his voice. “Dr. Gokudera. I hoped that they would have sent someone…competent.” The glare of the doctor worsened tenfold, but he didn’t say anything as he bent down to examine the corpse.
“The wounds on her throat were the fatal ones,” he said. “She’s probably been dead for half an hour. I’ll be taking her to mortuary on Old Montague Street for further examination.” The young teacher, still in shock at the discovery felt a wave of nausea washing over him, and the man who had first found the body didn’t look much better either. Hibari stared at the two for a moment, before sneering.
“You two. Names.”
“Yamamoto Takeshi,” said the man who had first found the corpse. He was tall, with pitch black hair and twinkling brown eyes. Vaguely the teacher remembered him to be the son of a local tavern-owner, a well-liked man and an honest citizen.
“And you?” Hibari asked, and the teacher knew that the man was probably going to check their backgrounds or something like that. Oh dear, it didn’t much matter - the teacher didn’t think that he’d be singled out for being a Japanese immigrant, but one never knew…
“S-Sawada Tsunayoshi,” he replied.
The room he had rented for the week had a direct view to the crime scene, and that’s why he had chosen it. He sat there, ever since he had ended the life of that cockroach, playing with the knives he had used to do his work. The post-homicidal depression he was going through right now made him feel empty and in no way satisfied. He had thought that killing the woman would have made him feel lighter, and that it would have taken all the horrendous pressure off, but that didn’t happen.
There was no change. He was still as he had always been. Then again, it wasn’t the act of homicide that had gotten him excited, but the fantasy that accompanied and generated the anticipation that preceded the crime. It had been more stimulating than the immediate aftermath of the crime itself, and now he wanted more.
’Perhaps I need to try again,’ he thought, mind rationalizing and giving reasons and excuses to justify the future crimes. ’After the next one, I’ll stop.’ Then again, that had been the same thing he had thought of after the first murder…
Impassively he stared at the unfolding scene through his fringe. People gathered. First one, then another almost walked past but he was called back. Then a third, and soon there was a doctor and the body was carried away so he couldn’t see it anymore.
He had liked seeing the reactions of those who had discovered his work. The first man hadn’t done much but it was obvious that the brown-haired one had never seen a corpse in his life before. Even in darkness he could clearly see how the brunet had taken few steps back when he seemingly saw the wounds for the first time.
It was adorable, in a way.
Maybe he should get to know that person. And end up showing him more corpses just to see his reactions. It would surely be fun. The man thought about it for a few moments, eyes following the brunet’s figure, before he dismissed the idea. It wasn’t worth it.
He was, after all, like all those others.
Just a cockroach.
He turned away from the window, and gazed upon what he had gotten. Or well, bought. That woman had been, after all, a prostitute. Prostitutes sell themselves. They give themselves to get money. So he was just a customer like any other, only he wanted something lasting. Something more than a memory of a night. It was their fault, not his. Then again, even if it was his fault, he wouldn’t much care. He just… he just wanted something he could paint. He loved painting.
The man turned to stare through the window again. The darkness was fading and the morning would arrive, revealing the scene of the crime. Such a pity that the corpse was discovered in the darkness - he would have loved to hear how by-passing women and children would have screamed in shock and fear.
He sat there for several hours, staring expressionlessly at the scenery down. The only time he reacted to anything was when a brown-haired teacher went for the second time past the corner, hurried towards the school.
He smiled, then. A too-wide, insane smile.
“The ones who found the corpse,” Hibari muttered, looking down at the papers he had gotten. They were both men with respectable jobs and were rather well-liked, but that didn’t exclude them from being suspected.
“Yamamoto Takeshi was born the 24th of April 1866 in England, to an English mother and a Japanese father. Mother deceased, father owns a Eastern-styled tavern few blocks away where the son works. No other living relatives… and Sawada Tsunayoshi was born the 14th of October 1867 in Japan, but moved to England with his parents before he turned five. Speaks fluent English, Japanese and Italian and teaches literature in Whitechapel Boarding School near the crime scene. Grandparents died due to cholera years ago, and his father of unknown identity is missing. Sawada lives with his mother in a small house, within a walking distance from the school he works in.”
“You’re suspecting them?” said a new voice from the doorway, and Hibari looked up from the citizen profiles he was reading.
“Reborn,” he sneered at the world-class private detective. “I suspect everyone, you should know that.”
“I doubt it was either one of them.”
“This isn’t your case.”
“No,” the dark-haired man agreed mockingly. “But if you don’t catch the murderer soon, it will be. Have you even recognized the body yet?”
“Identification will be difficult,” Hibari hissed with narrowed eyes. While he felt reluctant respect towards Reborn for his skills and talents, he still hated the arrogant man. “Don’t you have anything else to investigate?”
“A friend of mine - you remember Iemitsu, don’t you? - told me to keep him updated about this case for some reason.”
“I see no reason why I should do anything for a commander who isn’t even present to take care of his job,” Hibari deadpanned. “Begone.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“Begone.”
“I got a call from Shamal,” Reborn continued, ignoring Hibari. “So it was Gokudera who inspected the body. He’s good and his report was better than what Shamal would have given. Apparently the neck of the victim was slashed twice, the cuts severing her windpipe and esophagus. Yet when the scene of the crime was inspected again there was very little blood. What do you make of that?”
“Most of the blood had soaked into her clothing,” Hibari stated, eyes gleaming. This was exactly the sort of mystery he liked to solve. “We discovered that her abdomen had been wounded and mutilated - it had a long, deep jagged knife wound along with several other cuts from the same instruments, running downward. The doctor determined that the woman had been bruised on the lower left jaw and I suppose that she was firs knocked out with a hit, and then killed.”
“Shamal’s theory suggests that her throat was cut after she was dead, since had she been alive then a strong jet of blood would have spurted from the wound and deluged the front of her clothing,” Reborn said. “But there was no blood at all on her chest or the corresponding part of her clothing. Interesting, eh? If this goes well you might get a raise, Hibari. And who knows, maybe even a promotion.”
“I do not fancy sitting in an office signing papers,” the raven-haired man snarled. “And if you have nothing useful to say, then you may leave.”
“You said that identification wouldn’t be easy. Why?”
“All she had on her was a comb, a broken mirror and a handkerchief, and the Lambeth Workhouse mark was on her petticoats. There were no identifying marks on her other inexpensive and well-worn clothes. She had a black straw hat with black velvet trim. If we were to give a description, we’d find thousand other women with the same looks.”
“Was she that ordinary looking?”
“Well, she was around five feet two inches tall with brown, greying hair which tells us something about her age. Brown eyes and several missing front teeth.”
“Isn’t that a start?” Reborn asked and turned to leave. “Spread the word about those details. Someone might give us a clue.”
“Us?” Hibari repeated. “Don’t include yourself as you please. This case is mine to solve, not yours.”
“So you say,” the older man smirked, and grabbed his fedora. “Find the killer before he kills again, Hibari Kyouya, or I will take over your case.”
After the police had dismissed them, Sawada Tsunayoshi and Yamamoto Takeshi weren’t quite sure of what to do. It felt somehow wrong to go on with their lives normally as if nothing had happened, but what else could they do? The two men had heard of each other before - both being rather well-liked in the area of Whitechapel - but this was the first time they had actually met, and for a while they both felt a tad bit awkward.
“I know that Whitechapel is known of its poverty and crime,” Yamamoto suddenly said. “But I have never witnessed this sort of murder before.”
“It was awful,” the shorter man agreed. “I hope the killer will be caught quickly. That poor woman… Then again, with these crowded tenements, narrow darkened slum streets and alleys; one can’t help but think that it’s a perfect place for a murderer to commit his deed.”
“True, but Hibari’s on the case, and he’s pretty damn competent. I’m sure nothing like this will happen anymore. By the way, I’m not sure whether or not you know already, but I’m Yamamoto Takeshi. Please call me Takeshi.”
“I’m Sawada Tsunayoshi… but I’m usually called Tsuna,” the teacher replied with a sad smile. “I’m sorry to have met you under such terrible circumstances.”
“No kidding,” Yamamoto agreed. “I guess I have to start warning people at the tavern.”
“And I need to hurry to check on my mother,” Tsuna said. “See you around, Takeshi.”
“Drop by the tavern sometime!” the tall, dark-haired man suggested with a smile. “I promise you won’t regret the visit.”
“Sure thing,” Tsuna replied, and waved to the man before turning towards his mother’s house. He’d have to hurry - what had happened had wasted considerable amount of time, and it was a bit past six already. School would start at half past seven, and even if his mother’s house was pretty near, he didn’t want to risk being late.
“Good morning,” the young teacher called, after entering the house. Compared to the living arrangements of the majority of who live in Whitechapel, the Sawada mother and son had it fine and easy. The two-story house with its own small garden and protective walls was a day-dream of many dirt-poor citizens. Nana, a housewife with a mysterious never-there husband was kind and loved, as was her son who would never turn away a person in need.
“Why are you so late?” his mother asked. “I was a bit worried since you have never spent the night away without telling me first, Tsu.”
“I was grading homework till four,” Tsuna told her, taking off his shoes and coat. “And then - you won’t believe what I stumbled upon on my way here.”
“Oh no,” Nana gasped. “I hope it’s not another beaten woman.”
“Beaten woman?” Tsuna repeated, and his mother nodded.
“Yeah. Lately some women around here have been attacked but an unidentified man. From you reaction I suppose that wasn’t it?”
“No,” the brunet admitted. “Instead, there was a corpse.”
“Oh my God,” Nana whispered. “How awful! How did it happen? Was the culprit captured?”
“No,” Tsuna said grimly. “The killer is still on the loose. I want you to be careful.”
“Oh, I doubt that he’ll break into anyone’s house!”
“I’d rather you’d still call a relative to live with us. Just in case, for the nights I won’t be here. ”
“You work too much, Tsu,” Nana sighed, twirling one light brown lock between her fingers. “But very well, I will call Haru-chan. Say, honey, you look exhausted. How about you take a nap now?”
“Can’t. I just came to check on you and grab something to eat. Then I’ll have to go back to school.” Going back to normal life and normal routines didn’t seem so difficult anymore, and while Tsuna couldn’t forget about what had happened, he didn’t think about it all the time either.
For ten days, at least.
Few days after the discovery of the body found Reborn yet again asking Hibari for details about the crime. And while the younger police officer wasn’t fond of sharing information, he knew he had to - if only to get later on information from Reborn as a payback.
“The body was identified,” Hibari said. “Mary Ann Nichols, nicknamed ‘Polly’, prostitute aged 42. Lived in a lodging house at 18 Thrawl Street.”
“Prostitute,” Reborn muttered. “It’s not a big surprise that someone would kill a prostitute.”
“What makes this case different, then?”
“Nothing. If the killer does nothing and isn’t caught in the next few weeks, close the case and focus on something more urgent.”
“I don’t quit my cases,” Hibari hissed with narrowed eyes. “I’ll capture the bastard who thought he could get away with breaking the rules during my watch.”
“Pissed off much, huh?” Reborn grinned. “Do you have any clues yet?”
“The murderer left nothing behind in the way of witnesses, weapon or any other type of clue. None of the residents nearby heard any kind of disturbance, nor did any of the workmen in the area notice anything unusual,” Hibari said.
“Odd,” Reborn muttered. “Yet even though Polly was found very shortly after her death, no one suspicious was seen around?”
“Yes. No vehicle or person was seen escaping the scene of the crime. I did a check on the three horse slaughterers who work nearby, but they have solid alibis covering their tracks.”
“So the criminal lives close enough to the place of the murder?” Reborn asked with a slight spark of amusement. Hibari snarled.
“Either that,” he hissed. “Or it was one of the two men who supposedly found it.”
“I can tell you it’s not Sawada,” Reborn said easily.
“You know the man?” Hibari sneered. “Just because you know him doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t have done it.”
“Of course,” the detective said calmly. “I’m not so naïve as to say that he’s innocent just because I know him. No, but I know a reason as to why it would have been impossible for Sawada Tsunayoshi to kill that woman.”
“Share the reason, then,” Hibari demanded, but Reborn shook his head.
“Can’t. Take my word, kid.”
“How do you know him anyway?”
“Some way. He doesn’t know me, though.”
“So you don’t suspect him at all? What about the other herbivore?”
“Yamamoto Takeshi,” Reborn muttered. “I don’t think it’s this guy either, though I wouldn’t trust him too much just in case. Yamamoto is known as a very warm and friendly, and is rarely seen not smiling. He’s also said to be very naïve to the uglier side of life. Much like your new assistant.”
“That guy?” Hibari scoffed and glanced at the newest addition to his team. A green-eyed young man with curly black hair was staring sullenly at something. What that something was, Hibari didn’t care enough to find out. “Lambo Bovino. Italian. Useless. Weak and cries too much.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Reborn said with a slight smirk. “I suggest enlisting both Yamamoto and Sawada to help.”
“And why would I do that?” was the icy response.
“Yamamoto works in a tavern where everyone goes,” the older man stated. “He can find out a lot by listening into conversations. Sawada works at a popular school and his mother is a housewife who knows everyone in the area - that too is a valuable source of information. Change in behaviours, sudden desires to move away, evident nonchalance or visible elation at the murder of Polly Nichols can be tracks leading us to the killer. Have you investigated her friends and family? What is known about her?”
“She was the daughter of a locksmith, and her mother is unknown. She married William Nichols, a printer’s machinist, and they had five herbivores since, apparently, after having the first two they could hardly feed, getting three more seemed like a good idea.”
“Continue without the commentary, will you?” Reborn requested, and Hibari sneered but complied.
“Her drinking problem caused the marriage to break few years ago, and for the most part this woman has been living off the small earnings as a prostitute, wasting it on a drinks first, lodging place second if whoever purchased her for the night didn’t take her anywhere. The children were with the father, unsurprisingly. Every once in a while Polly Nichols would try to get her life back together, and fail spectacularly, only succeeding in coming across as a sad, pitiable, destitute woman. Yet, she was well-liked and didn’t have any enemies who would have possibly seen reason enough to kill her.”
“So what do you think? The conclusion?”
“You know already,” Hibari stated with cold, narrowed eyes. “You knew from the beginning that we’re not dealing with a single murder case, but with a threat of a serial killer in the making. And because of that you even dug out the details of the Tabram case.”
“True,” Reborn admitted nonchalantly. “About three weeks before Polly was killed, prostitute known as Martha Tabram was murdered in a manner that greatly resembles this case. And dealing with this sort of killing beasts is always tricky since they don’t feel emotions the way normal people do and therefore are harder to predict. Then again, consequently, when their guard is down, they may say or do things that reveal their lack of concern for others and their absence of conscience. And that’s something Yamamoto can help us with, since he can pretty easily listen into other people’s conversations.”
“I doubt it would be of much merit,” Hibari said. “The killer might be a very accomplished one and possess the ability to carry on two different lives without alerting anyone. That’s why I hate those two-faced herbivores. I can spot a regular criminal a mile away, but a beast like that? Who could?” At this Reborn smirked.
“Not many,” the man admitted. “Actually, when one of my professors of criminal justice was asked how one could tell if a psychopath lived next door, his response was ‘You wouldn't. You would have to know every segment of their life and be able to tie it all together.’ Give him regular clothes and he’ll be just another nameless, faceless bystander. Yet there is someone who’s a bit… sensitive to these psychopaths.” At this Hibari’s interest was clearly aroused, and he looked up from his papers again. Reborn was smirking at him, and the older detective grabbed one of the files lying on Hibari’s table.
“Someone…,” he said with a surprisingly gentle voice. “Someone special…”
“Special?” Hibari repeated impatiently, and blinked as a paper from the file was shoved in front of him.
“Special with an… intuition,” Reborn said, and the younger of the two looked down on the paper again, eyes widening slightly.
Sawada Tsunayoshi.
4th of September, 1888, Tuesday
He had ventured out of his rented apartment to get something to eat, and he felt illogical anger at how normal everyone was acting. As if they had no reason to be scared of him. Did they think that he wouldn’t be able to kill them? Trash, he’d show them soon enough. He’ll show them and make fear sweep into their bones till--
“Mr. Belphegor,” a jovial voice called, and with a practiced smile the man turned to the talker.
“Mrs. Porter, how do you do?” he said, and laughed inside when the old woman, mother of three and his landlady decided to tell him a detailed, completely fictional What Happened To Polly Nichols tale. She didn’t know that this seemingly polite, handsome young man in front of her was the ‘beast’ she was referring to. There he was, standing in front of her, dressed in a white cotton shirt, dark brown trousers and a jacket of same colour. A well-worn hat rested on his blond curls, and no one knew that during blood-filled nights the hat was replaced by a crown of the finest craft.
“Horrible news,” he stated, clearly appalled, and Mrs. Porter was nodding vigorously.
“Oh yes it is,” she crowed. “Poor thing, that Polly Nichols, never got her happy ending. Oh? Who’s there? Well if it isn’t Tsunayoshi!”
“Molly,” a warm, if a bit tired voice, said and Belphegor turned to see the brunet who had been one of the first two who had discovered his first victim’s corpse. The blond had to make conscious effort to hold back the wide grin the threatened to make an appearance.
“Are the students trying your health, Tsunayoshi?” Mrs. Porter sighed. “You need to rest, don’t you agree, Mr. Belphegor?”
“Quite,” the blond said, and Tsuna was suddenly overcome by an odd feeling, yet he decided to ignore it for now. Who has he to start judging strangers? So he held back a shudder and gave the taller man a kind smile.
“I’m Sawada Tsunayoshi, please call me Tsuna. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure,” Belphegor replied. “Is all mine.”
“Tsunayoshi is one of the best teachers at the local school,” Mrs. Porter said. “And Tsunayoshi, Mr. Belphegor is an Italian artist. I’m sure you have heard of his gallery Criantemo?” Tsuna nodded, clearly impressed. Galleries of painted art were rare, and only for the upper class nobles to attend. And Criantemo was known of its prestige. Yet it struck the brunet as odd that if Mr. Belphegor was so successful, surely he’d have the money to buy himself better clothes? Or did he have something else to spend money on? The rent couldn’t be that expensive.
’It’s none of my business,’ Tsuna told himself firmly, and beamed at the artist, who yet again wondered privately how quickly the adorable smile would melt off at the sight of a new corpse.
“I was going to grab some lunch,” Belphegor said, eyes perhaps, maybe fixed on Tsunayoshi - it was hard to see that, since the blond man’s fringe was too long and hid half of his face. “Would you like to tag along?”
“Oh, I would love to,” Mrs. Porter exclaimed, mistakenly thinking of herself as the one being invited. “But I have to go and check on my children at the dame school. I’m sure that Tsunayoshi would love to accompany you on my behalf.”
“Ah, sure,” the brunet stuttered. “I was, too, on my way to get something to eat. Have you been at Yamamoto’s tavern yet?”
“No,” Belphegor replied. “But I have heard of it and it seems like the most plausible destination for us now. Shall we go?”
“Sure,” Tsuna said, and let the taller man lead the way. “So, are you new in the area?”
“Quite. I moved here a bit over a month ago.”
“And how have you liked it so far?” Tsuna asked, and the other man’s unnerving smile made yet another appearance, making the brunet tense and wish to leave, and leave the country while he was at it.
“It’s fascinating,” Belphegor stated. “Has its good and bad parts. This East End of London is a place outcast from the city, both economically and socially, and it’s revolting how the cattle and sheep are herded through the streets of Whitechapel to the slaughterhouses behind every corner, soaking the streets with blood and guts. Add to that rubbish and liquid sewage… The stench tends to be awful. Yet in all of its misery, I do indeed find this place oddly fascinating.”
“Yet it’s dangerous,” Tsuna muttered. “Have you heard of the two murders last August?”
“Two?” Belphegor asked innocently. “I heard of only one.”
“Martha Tabram was found dead the 4th of August,” the brunet explained quietly. “People don’t show it, but everyone’s pretty startled and the prostitutes afraid. The murders are odd in the sense that no one can think of a motive since both victims were poorest of the poor.”
“Perplexing indeed,” Belphegor muttered, and Tsuna nodded.
“Naturally, people have different theories, but for example the idea of the attacks being made by a gang of thieves is absurd - a thief needs something to steal. Those women didn’t have anything worth stealing. Similarly the rumours of a gang extorting money from prostitutes penalizing the women for failing to pay are improbable.”
“So, what do you believe?” the blond man asked quietly, trying to hide the delight in his voice. And while he succeeded in that, Tsuna regardless felt a chill wash over him. He swallowed and looked up at the taller man with a serious expression.
“Some say that a maniac is on the loose.”
“Is that what you think?” Belphegor asked softly, and Tsunayoshi shrugged.
“It’s a possibility. Why would he kill prostitutes? Only for the sake of killing?”
“There are sick people in this world,” the Italian man said nonchalantly. “Shall we talk about something else? I don’t much like discussing murders when I’m about to eat.” It was a lie, of course. Belphegor had nothing against talking about murders at any time in the midst of any activity, but normal people didn’t do it. And to Tsunayoshi, he wanted to appear as normal as possible.
“Oh sure,” the brunet exclaimed, and smiled with relief as they reached the Yamamoto tavern. Inside, a tall raven-haired young man saw the immediately, and waved with a bright smile. With mild surprise Belphegor recognized him to be the one to first discover the body at the Buck’s Row.
“Tsuna!”
“Good afternoon, Yamamoto,” the young teacher greeted, and the owner’s son laughed.
“I told you to call me Takeshi, didn’t I?” he asked as Tsunayoshi and Belphegor sat down. Since most of everyone was still working at this hour, the place was emptier than usually and they found seats with relative ease.
“So,” Tsunayoshi started after they had ordered for the usual. “Can I ask about your art? Personally I really adore paintings…”
Whoever killed the two prostitutes was, without a doubt, a sicko. Gokudera Hayato, a half Italian, half Japanese man and Dr. Shamal’s most gifted pupil knew now that the psycho who did this had to be caught even if it meant more credit for that bastard Hibari.
For some reason the fact that the killer had taken a different organ from the prostitutes and paid for his ‘purchase’ made him seem more than just a regular murderer and downright disturbing and wrong. He hadn’t just stabbed and left - he had done his work carefully, with enough time, determination and completely void of hesitance. Most probably planned it all, thought about it for hours.
“How is it going?” asked a voice from the doorway, and Gokudera looked up from his work.
“Mr. Reborn,” the silver-haired man greeted. “What brings you here?”
“Curiosity,” the dark-haired man replied calmly, stepping forward. “So, any information?”
“None,” the doctor admitted. “I have never seen something like this, and I can’t understand why someone would kill without a motivation, a reason.”
“There’s always a reason,” Reborn stated. “We’re just yet to figure it out.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“Leather Apron. I’m sure you have heard of the man. Hobbies include beating up prostitutes.”
“Five feet five? Thick neck, dark hair, small moustache and around his forties?”
“Correct.”
“That man might, morally speaking, find it in himself to do it, but he couldn’t have done this,” Gokudera stated. “He’s too clumsy for clean cuts like this, and he’s got no knowledge of human anatomy. He couldn’t have extracted the organs so cleanly without bruising any of the others. I wouldn’t be surprised if the ones he’s gotten so far - kidneys and a liver - are in an unharmed state too. Actually I’m sure they’re perfectly cut.”
“Well said,” Reborn smirked. “Hibari said that too.”
“That bastard?”
“He’s competent.”
“Still, he’s a bastard.”
“Well, you’ll just have to learn how to tolerate him. Since this case will need a good team to solve it,” Reborn started, smirking at the silver-haired doctor. “And both you and he are in that team.”
“What? Reborn, with all due respect, why are you even investigating this? One would think that a detective of your status would have other, more fascinating cases to figure out. I do not see why you’re getting caught up in this case.”
“Because it is interesting,” the dark-haired man stated. “And it is important. Don’t bother thinking about it and stick to what you can manage.”
“Which is: inspect the bodies,” a new voice said mockingly, and Gokudera stiffened. If he disliked Hibari, he then downright hated…
“Rokudo Mukuro,” he hissed, eyes narrowed. The man in question was a talented Italian psychiatrist who specialized in criminal mind analysis. He was almost six feet tall, with dark blue hair and mismatched eyes of red and blue - to say that he stood out in the crowd would be an understatement. However due to his undeniably good looks and rather respectable fortune, no one dared to say a crossword regarding the way he looked. “What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be making money in Rome, bastard?”
“Reborn informed me of this fascinating case,” Mukuro replied with a shrug. “And since nothing of the like is going on in Italy, I decided to check this one. So interesting it is that I have agreed to even work in a team. With you and Hibari Kyouya, no less.”
“Way to go, Reborn,” Gokudera scoffed. “Well done in gathering enemies into a team.”
“You don’t have to be friends,” the older man stated calmly. “All you need to do is to work together for a short while. There are four more who’ll join us in this case.”
“Four?” Mukuro repeated. “That’s a lot, considering that none of us likes groups.”
“It’s necessary,” Reborn said. “Work on making a basic profile of the murderer. Generic is alright, since I doubt you’ll be finding anything personal from the past two murders.”
“You might get surprised,” Mukuro replied. “I’m not the best for nothing.”
“So you say,” Gokudera snorted. “So, when will we find out about the remaining four?”
“Soon enough,” Reborn told him, and turned to leave. “Till then, focus and extract as much information as you can.”
5th of September, 1888, Wednesday
Brown locks darker than they usually were, drenched by sweat. Moans escaping the pink lips and a petite, lithe body writhing beneath the blond.
“You’re bloody perfect like this,” he gasped between shallow breaths. “I have… come so many times inside you, yet I still--”
“Nngh… More,” the brunet groaned. “Please. Ah… I… need… more.”
“Aahh… you’re also starting to… feel… good.”
The whole damned night. Not a wink of sleep due to disturbing dreams that he hated to have, yet longed to see again due the sheer pleasure they gave him. That was the reason why he had woken up so early.
It wasn’t even seven in the morning, and Belphegor was making his way down the street to buy some apples when he saw his New Favourite Person - Tsunayoshi. The brunet was reading the Star magazine with a focused expression and didn’t see the artist approaching till the blond was standing right next to him.
“Something interesting?” he asked, and the young teacher yelped with surprise.
“Mr. Belphegor,” Tsunayoshi then pouted. “You startled me!”
“What are you reading?” Bel asked, and the brunet showed him an article the Italian man had most certainly not expected to see.
“They claim that he resembles the killer,” Tsunayoshi said. “Leather Apron. I have never even heard of the man.” Belphegor had, and wasn’t flattered at all at the mistake. How could they think that someone like that could commit operations of such delicacy as he? Absurd!
“It seems that people here can’t talk of anything else but the murders, nowadays,” the blond stated, and Tsunayoshi nodded.
“I’m not surprised - this is rather scary.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Perhaps a bit alarmed.”
“Don’t be,” Belphegor said, hot breath hitting Tsunayoshi’s rapidly reddening cheeks. “Methinks he targets women. And not any women, but just prostitutes. You’re neither so I think you can relax.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” the brunet muttered, feeling rather hot. Why was he reacting like that to the taller man’s close proximity? Disturbing. And alarming, too.
“Where are you going?” Belphegor asked then, and Tsuna pointed at Buck’s Row and what lay behind it.
“To school. It’s soon seven and I need to prepare the classroom.”
“And when will your workday end?”
“Around five, why?”
“A friend recommended watching a play at the Pavilion,” Bel lied nonchalantly. He had purchased the tickets of a popular play a short while ago just to have a chance to invite Tsuna to go with him there. “The seats are supposedly on high demand.”
“To watch the Lady from the Sea? My mother went to see it and said it was adorable,” Tsuna chuckled, and ignored the blush he was, without a doubt, sporting. “I’d love to see it.”
“Great!” the blond exclaimed. “I’ll wait for you here at five.”
“Okay. See you then.”
’I don’t know what I’m doing,’ Belphegor admitted inwardly to himself, while staring through his fringe after the brunet. Yes, he wanted to fuck the man, but he knew that he couldn’t risk it. He should have no bonds or relationships that would endanger his project. Oh well, perhaps after today’s date he could start distancing himself from Tsunayoshi.
Surprisingly, that idea didn’t sound appealing at all.
Several hours later found the two men once again together, heading towards the theatre. The Pavilion was a large East-end theatre capable of holding considerably over 3000 persons. Melodrama of a rough type, farce and pantomime were usual to the place, yet the newest hit The Lady from the Sea was none of those.
Tsuna enjoyed watching the play - the actors were superb and the whole place was amazing. Belphegor, on the other hand, enjoyed watching the changing expressions on the brunet’s face.
’Well, maybe there’s no need to ward him off me quite yet. Soon. Just… not now…’
“It was so lovely,” Tsunayoshi sighed as he exited the Pavilion. Belphegor shrugged.
“Too romantic for my liking.”
“I guess you’re just not a romantic man,” the brunet teased, and the other man turned to him with a smirk.
“I can be very romantic,” he murmured. “With the right person.” For some reason these word made Tsuna flush deep red and look elsewhere, completely missing the unnaturally wide grin of the blond, that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“Then again,” the artist said, catching Tsuna’s attention. “Love is just a feeling. It can’t save this world.”
“But it can change it,” Tsuna claimed. “Not in an instant, perhaps, but with time and patience… and true love… I’m sure that many things could be changed. Because loving someone gives your courage, and being loved gives you strength.”
“Is that so?” Bel muttered, not feeling giddy anymore.
“May I ask… who do you love the best?” Tsunayoshi asked, and the blond man stopped walking, and turned to the brunet again. A moment of silence fell over the two before the artist spoke.
“Myself,” he said. “Because there is no longer anyone for me to place before my own life.” Belphegor might not have realized it, but Tsuna could clearly see the loneliness in the hollow words. To be alone like that… no wonder he didn’t understand love. Tears of sympathy in his eyes, the brunet reached to grasp the taller man’s hand.
“One day you’ll find someone,” Tsuna assured the visibly surprised blond. “Someone you’ll be able to love. And when that someone loves you back, you’ll see that it’s the most beautiful thing in this world. The most… precious.” At that moment something changed in Belphegor. Nothing about the world or the people in it, no. The people were still nothing but two-dimensional trash to him that deserved to die in some corner for all he cared.
Because of his psychopathic nature, Belphegor hadn’t known how to feel sympathy for others, or even how to have relationships. Instead he had learned through observing others how to simulate and mimic normal behaviour. It had all been an act for the purpose of not sticking out when the murders happen around him. Belphegor had never understood why people couldn’t accept the fact that some men killed just because they wanted to kill… what was one less person on the face of the earth anyway?
But now, when he looked at the warm brown eyes of the man standing next to him, the blond serial killer felt something foreign - it was like a wave, threatening his consciousness and made him both wary and excited. He knew that this man mattered. Sawada Tsunayoshi wasn’t just ‘one insignificant person on the face of the earth’, not like all the others. It was as if in a greyscale world only he and Tsunayoshi were full of colours.
It was an odd feeling, without a doubt.
The gloved hand clasping his held firmly as they walked. It might have been a bit of an odd sight - two grown men holding hands - but neither really cared. And more than anything before, Belphegor knew one thing.
He didn’t want to let go of that hand.
It was the evening of that same day, when Reborn found himself standing in front of the Sawada household, thinking of what to say to the young man he was about to meet.
Less than an hour earlier he had ordered Hibari to go and fetch Gokudera, Yamamoto, Mukuro and Lambo and take them to the office. Now he was on his way to get the remaining two members of their team - one of the two being Sawada Tsunayoshi, the boy with the sixth sense intuition.
Reborn remembered, years and years ago, when he had first seen the scrawny brat. Sawada Iemitsu, the boy’s father and his former boss had been so proud of his son and wife, having their pictures practically all over the office. Reborn had even met his wife, Nana. But all that had happened before Iemitsu disappeared while trailing a criminal all the way to Italy.
“-and I think the actress playing the Lady’s role was very skilled,” a bright, familiar voice interrupted Reborn’s musings and out of habit the detective moved away to go unnoticed. Tsunayoshi was walking with a tall, blond man, talking animatedly about something. The stranger’s eyes were covered with his fringe and the unnaturally wide grin that made a quick appearance from time to time gave Reborn a feeling of something sinister. Yet something in the manner the man was treating Tsunayoshi, something in the way he leaned closer as to not miss a single word, something in the way he walked next to the brunet… gave the detective veteran also a feeling that to Tsunayoshi, this stranger was no threat.
He watched silently as the blond refused an invitation to enter the house, countering it with an invitation for dinner some other day, which Tsunayoshi accepted. From an outsider’s point of view the way the two men interacted was highly questionable and even a bit improper, but Reborn wasn’t one to care for people’s private lives if it didn’t involve interesting crimes, and so he decisively opted to ignore what he was seeing.
A few minutes after the blond man had left and Tsunayoshi had entered the house, the detective finally emerged from his hide and quickly walked towards the front door, and rang the doorbell. Unsurprisingly it was Tsunayoshi who opened the door, with shoes still in his feet and cheeks still flush from the cold.
“I’m Reborn, chief detective of Whitechapel branch,” the man introduced himself. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Oh, sure,” Tsunayoshi exclaimed. “Come on in, please.” Reborn entered the house and felt uncharacteristic nostalgia - the place hadn’t changed at all. He could almost imagine Iemitsu sitting in the living room, drinking sake and appearing as unprofessional as possible.
“There’s no need for tea. Or anything else,” Reborn said as Tsunayoshi moved towards the kitchen.
“Oh,” the younger brunet muttered, obviously put off. “How can I… um… help you?”
“I’m certain that you have heard of the two murders that happened during last month,” the detective said, handing two pictures to Tsunayoshi. “7th of August, Martha Tabram. 31st of August, Mary Nichols. You found the latter.”
“W-well, it wasn’t really me,” Tsuna stuttered, worry and confusion in his eyes. “But I didn’t see anything suspicious back then.”
“I’m not here to ask about the past,” Reborn stated. “I’m here to ask you to help us with the investigation. I’m gathering a team consisting of people whose skills are needed to solve this case. You’re one of them.”
“I don’t know how I could help,” Tsunayoshi admitted. “I mean…”
“For now,” the detective interrupted. “All I need is for you to be present. The rest will work itself out.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Just come with me and I’ll explain everything better later, to the whole team. Do you have time now?”
“Yes,” Tsunayoshi said. “I… I do.”
“Good,” Reborn muttered. “Now we’ll have to first drop by the train station and fetch an acquaintance of mine who’ll also be aiding us.”
“A-and then?”
“Then we’ll go back to the office where the rest of our team will have gathered. Or actually, tell you what, you go there and I’ll be coming soon after.”
“EH!?” Tsunayoshi exclaimed with slight panic. “Go there on my own?”
“You can do that, can’t you?” Reborn’s odd smile was mocking and barely there, and Tsunayoshi didn’t find it in himself to refuse. He nodded meekly.
“S-see you there, then.”
___________________________________________________________________
END PART ONE
(go to part two)
___________________________________________________________________