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Souya, for the past few weeks, was being watched. Terrorized by the sound of clicking cameras, seeing shadows disappear in the corners of his vision.
It was an odd feeling, to be sure. He wasn't unknown for sure, being the vice captain of the 4th division didn't not attract attention, and the eye-catching hairstyles and street fashion he and his brother sported weren't common. But this felt different, not just an old lady clutching her pearls at the piercings through his ears, or a punk on a street corner trying to size him up. This was more personal, like the person was trying to get to Souya, and more than that? They wanted him to notice, wanted him to be scared. Taking enjoyment in the way he turned his head to look for them, each attempt unsuccessful.
He was being stalked. And oh, that was scary.
"A stalker? Creeper fucker won't getcha Sou. Let your big bro take care of ya, nobody can hurt you with me here.", Nahoya, his wonderful strong twin had proclaimed, tucking Souya behind him and challenging the unknown monster in the corner to face them. But Souya wasn't blind to the corner of his smile twitching downwards, he was just as uncertain as Souya was.
Souya had made the mistake of letting the bravado comfort him, forcing normalcy back into his schedule. He wasn't a fucking pushover. He'd beat the creeper who kept watching him to a pulp when he caught them. A calm in the storm.
The feelings had never gone away, but the creep hadn't revealed themselves, so maybe it was okay. He could pretend they weren't there, a constant presence at his back.
Eyes on him at home, watching from the back of the crowd in Toman meetings. Cameras flashing and judgmental stares haunting him. The paranoia was killing him. But maybe it would be okay. They would stop.
It was manageable. It wasn't.
He could lie to himself, and cry onto his brother's shoulder when the panic just got too much. What if they hurt him, or Nahoya? Or anyone around them fell victim just because Souya was a little bitch and didn't handle his own problems.
Just when he got used to his stalker's tactics, the notes started appearing.
Simple things at first, compliments that made his cheeks tinge red before he remembered the context. Calling him sweet names like doll and sweetheart, while demanding all his attention, taunting his attempts to find them in the crowds.
The notes grew far from innocent as his stalker grew emboldened; telling him how he would fold so prettily for them, how sweet his moans would sound. Telling him to be a good boy, or they would take him away sooner. Souya could never stomach much of the disgusting words written down, instead asking Nahoya to burn any new notes that arrived.
The stalker didn't like that. Alarms blared through their apartment complex, spooking both brothers out of bed, rushing out of the building with the other tenants. Staring up at the blaze burning in the apartments next to them, Souya knew it was a warning.
The next message confirmed as such, haunting words scrawled across the page ordering him to never get rid of another present. The stalker, and apparent arsonist, had made his threat clear. Getting rid of the things sent to him would only get people hurt.
Sure, no one had been killed. But what about the next time? Toman getting hurt? Chifuyu? Takemichi, Hakkai? Nahoya..
He couldn't bear to think about it. Disposal of the gifts would only bring the creep to rage, prone to hurting the people that meant the most to him. Souya was thoroughly trapped. Couldn't ask for help, couldn't hide, and the spider was weaving his web tighter around him by the moment.
Escalation was inevitable. The man, he had confirmed as such to Souya in his last note, was insatiable. Determined to devour everything that was light and hopeful in his life and replace it with just him, just so he could see him cry.
Packages started arriving daily at the Kawata residence.
Expensive clothing from brands Souya could only dream of, with price tags that made his eyes widen in shock. Gucci, Versace, Diore, and it was all delivered to a delinquent living in the slums, barely surviving on ramen and energy drinks.
Never anything Souya would pick out. Always in soft pastel blues and pinks to make him look harmless and soft, and always accompanied by a note criticizing his taste in clothes, telling him to wear the ones he bought.
The "or else" was unspoken.
The criticism was always followed by an attempt to fix whatever was wrong, telling Souya off for his diet only to send a shipment of fresh food to their front door that he feared touching. Hygiene solved by placing luxurious products directly in the bathroom he shared with Nahoya.
He really was a doll now, dressing and bathing and eating according to his invisible master's whims, any aspect of choice swiftly removed from him.
According to his stalker's unwritten rules, Souya could still leave the house, still attend Toman gatherings to keep up appearances, could still pretend to live his life. And in those moments, the harsh glare in the corner of his vision would vanish for a split second, and he could breathe. Privileges he was granted, not permanently either.
A battered doll was given to him; the porcelain legs cracked and paint faded from intense use. The patchy short blue hair and tarnished black uniform to mimic Souya's own appearance. The note accompanying declared it irrelevant now, that his stalker would get his replacement soon.
The implications were clear. Souya felt nauseous.
The last note the stalker sent showed up stained and splattered with a substance Souya didn't dare identify.
There was never a signature on the cards or gifts, just left with a single flower on his pillow, or occasionally in front of their door. Both twins were on the edge of tearing apart their room, their sanctuary to try and find any evidence to damn the sick fuck trying to hurt them.
Their home wasn't safe, but where else was he supposed to stay? They didn't have money for a hotel, and certainly not to move. He tossed every gentian in the trash with the notes, and stayed up into the dead of night, too afraid of the vulnerability sleep would bring.
One more note.
"See you soon."
…..
Reporting that he was being stalked to the police was an almost impossible call. Their low-income area wasn't a priority, and a kid like him even less so. Souya still went in, hoping for the best.
They had laughed him out of the station, with one of them having the audacity to chastise him for wasting public resources, and to leave before he took up more of their time.
He was out of tears, jaded by the hell his life had become.
Souya kept his mouth set into a fine line as he cursed the corrupt fuckers out under his breath. Bastard cops could rot.
He hated this, hated, hated, hated-
Souya opened his mouth to scream out his frustrations, tears streaming down his cheeks as he wailed. Pure miserable screams of anguish, and no one gave him another glance.
"What a sight.~" A familiar voice cooed from above him.
"Doesn't he just look so good like that, brother? Should we help the poor thing out?"
Rindou and Ran Haitani were leering from above him, callous smiles sending adrenaline shooting down his spine. Before he could jump to his feet, a hand gripped his shoulder, pushing him back down.
"Aw, don't be like that, doll." Rindou cooed. "I won't hurt ya, too much. Lucky they weren't gonna help. Going to the police though? Really Souya, did you think they would help you?"
Doll? No. It couldn't be, surely-
But it all added up. After Tenjiku, after he had blacked out and apparently decimated a good chunk of the executives, including the Haitanis, the stalking had started. Was this some sick attempt at revenge, scare him for months and then jump him?
"...you?" he managed to mumble out, voice mostly muffled by the hand Ran pressed over his mouth, the other holding both of his wrists, pressing just tight enough to ache. They would bruise later, if he survived this.
The two brothers seemed to communicate without words, and without another second, leaned back down to loom over Souya.
"Yeah," Rindou's menacing grin widened. "Me."
He couldn't move away, couldn't budge as the sweet scented rag inched closer towards his face, Ran and Rindou's combined grips too much to break out of.
"Please! Please, let me go. I just wanna go home, please-"
His begging went unanswered, Rindou just shushing him as he fell into unconsciousness.
…..