"He was beaten."
He was Shuichi, a young, talented upstart singer of the group "Bad Luck" who always acted as if the sun were in his hands while he ate a ton of sugar. A perfect target for someone like Yuki Eiri to screw with, but not to intentionally harm. Not like this. Not ever like this. He couldn't believe what he heard. He could have easily doubted Hiro's very existence after hearing it, he didn't. He couldn't. He never could. Not when he was now being blamed for what had happened to Shuichi
He knew that Hiro was telling the truth about the attack. Eiri didn't have any proof that Hiro was telling the truth, but all he needed was his instinct. That, and the look on Hiro's face. Hiro was the guitar player for "Bad Luck" and Shuichi's best friend. He had wavy red hair that fell past his shoulders. He looked like he was on fire.
Eiri didn't blame him, but he knew that Hiro's feelings were nothing compared to his. First, came disbelief. The sort of disbelief that manifested when someone was told that a loved one had died. Second, came anger. Sure, Eiri knew that he was far from innocent, but he would never ever have beaten Shuichi. How could anyone do something like that? Shuichi was the sun. When he smiled, clouds ran away in fear, even Eiri's. He would never admit that, but it was the truth, and he knew it. Third, came guilt. Guilt for possibly making Shuichi vulnerable to attack. Guilt for even thinking that no one would hurt Shuichi in that way. Guilt for pushing him away. Fourth, came desire. Desire for vengeance. Nobody does that to Shuichi and expects to get away with it. Nobody.
When he finally found words to speak, Eiri only managed these very simple questions.
"Who? What? Where? When? Why?"
It took less than thirty seconds for Hiro to give five simple answers to the five simple questions. His eyes blazed when he did and Eiri copied that look. Hiro wanted something done. Eiri intended to do it.
"There will be hell to pay," he said, his voice quiet, but sharper than a blacksmith's sword.
Hiro gasped, taking a step back, "What do you intend to do?"
"You know what," Eiri raised his voice, but only slightly.
"I should be the one--" Hiro began.
"No," Eiri said as he brushed past the red head. "I will be the one to unleash hell." It's my responsibility.
Before Hiro could say anything, Eiri walked over to his car, got in and turned the key. He could hear and feel the engine revving. He could see Hiro standing close by with a hidden smile. He could almost smell the rubber as he peeled out of the garage.
"There will be hell to pay."
The signs whispered it. The other cars shrieked it. Even an advertisement of a brunette lady holding a cigarette said it between the white of her teeth. Every pedestrian was Shuichi on the floor, bleeding. Every lamppost was Shuichi crying for someone to help him. Every stoplight was a memory, a kiss, a night of sex. Someone tried to take all that away from Eiri. Thanks to jealousy, anger, and hate, someone could easily have taken Shuichi's life.
Eiri had no idea what he would do if he were to find Shuichi's corpse instead of a frightened young boy. Yes, hell would be unleashed. The only question would be how much, and how many people would get the brunt of it. For the sake of all the world, Shuichi had better be alive.
Or hell would seem like an easy payment.