Chapter Text
The man was dead.
His face was a mottled purple and green, and blood still leaked sluggishly from a dozen different wounds, but Kevin’s eyes were fixed on his chest, waiting for another wet gasp, or a sudden pained inhalation–waiting for any movement at all.
It didn’t come, because the man was dead.
The man was dead.
Next to him, Riko let out a slow hiss of breath, and from the corner of his eye, Kevin could see him leaning forward ever so slightly, eyes intense with interest.
The Butcher stood across the room from them, mouth curved in an unbearable rictus of a grin, white knuckled grip clutching an impossibly sharp cleaver.
Kevin didn’t know why they were there. They’d been playing a practice game with other potential recruits who wanted a chance at Raven infamy, and they’d finished, and they were supposed to be going to the showers but then they didn’t. Now, the sweat from the game had dried to his skin and he could smell it, could taste the salty residue around his lips. He didn’t know why they’d been called up or what they were supposed to be doing, he didn’t know if he should watch or if he should close his eyes, he didn’t know how to stop the anxious tingling that was running through his arms, to his wrists, to his hands, to his fingers that were starting to shake–
“Dispose of it,” Kengo Moriyama said from behind Kevin.
His voice was close enough that Kevin almost flinched. He didn’t. He at least knew better than that.
Riko’s grin grew wider as the Butcher knelt down on the bloody tarp and began to work. Kevin let his eyes glaze, but he couldn’t mute the awful sound of meat being severed from bone. His hands clenched to fists at his sides, but he forced himself to relax enough to tuck them behind his back, one hand around one wrist, then tried to breathe through his nose and out through his mouth as evenly as possible.
Like an athlete.
Like a good athlete.
On his other side stood a boy who didn’t move an inch.
Kevin tried not to look at him either, but he didn’t want to look at the mess in front of him so his eyes kept flickering over. Unlike Riko, Nathaniel didn’t move forward, didn’t smile, didn’t do anything at all.
Swallowing, Kevin stood a little straighter and tried to be a little more like that and little less like...himself.
The cleaver smacked into the body again and Kevin cringed, then bit his lower lip hard enough that he could taste blood.
He wondered if this is what his mom looked like when she died–not being carved up for disposal, but still bloody and bruised; lifeless eyes forever fixated on something no one else could understand. He wondered if she struggled to breath in the end, if she gasped too, if it sounded as wet and hopeless as the dead man had. He wondered if she could smell gasoline, or fire, or burning rubber. If she begged for her life as the car rolled, or if she accepted it and was quiet the entire time.
He hoped she hadn’t been like this man.
He hoped she hadn’t been scared.
A heavy hand landed on Kevin’s shoulder and he jumped, then ducked his head down. “Sorry, sir,” he murmured reflexively.
“Go wash, boys” Ichirou instructed, hand tightening firmly. “Night practice begins in four hours.”
Riko turned and smiled with all the confidence in the world. “Yes sir,” he said smoothly.
“Sir,” Kevin echoed, voice robotic in his own ears. He followed Riko towards the exit and barely kept from running.
The other boy stayed behind with the stench of blood and the sound of the cleaver.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
***
The locker rooms were empty.
They’d been upstairs long enough that by now, most of the Ravens would be either eating dinner, or catching up on sleep before night practice began.
Most of the Ravens would never have to watch a man die on his hands and knees, and Kevin hated them for it.
“Fuck-ing incredible,” Riko said.
He bit off the edges of each syllable, the curse word still just a little too bulky to fit all the way inside his mouth. He’d been doing this lately, trying out words, vernacular, language–trying to be dangerous.
He sounded stupid, but Kevin wasn’t about to tell him so. Nodding, Kevin forced his fingers to turn the dial of his locker, then flinched when they messed up the combination. He blinked, forced the image of a bloody tarp from behind his eyes, and tried again.
The locker opened this time, and Kevin toed off his sneakers and stuck them inside, then grabbed a pair of shorts and followed Riko into the showers.
“So?” Riko asked as soon as the showers were running. “Who would you pick?”
“Pick?”
Riko wadded up a washcloth and threw it at Kevin.
It smacked into the side of his arm before Kevin could yank it out of the air which wasn’t normal, normally he could grab them, normally he was faster, normally he knew what Riko meant when Riko said things and oh, of course, who would you pick from the new kids, he needed to say someone’s name, he needed to–
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You look like a fucking fish.”
Kevin closed his mouth and blinked. The steam was rising now from the hot water, wrapping sluggishly around their limbs and blurring everything until it was almost unreal.
Almost.
“I guess the girl...the one from California..the…”
“She sucked,” Riko said with Riko finality.
Kevin blinked again, then turned his head up to the water, letting the heat of it roll off his cheeks and chin. “Oh. Yeah. You’re right.”
“Obviously.
“Who would you–”
And Riko was off, expounding the failures of everyone. It was easy enough to fall into second place and let Riko take the lead–he’d practiced it to perfection. Kevin let Riko’s words roll off him like the water rolling off his back, swirling around his toes and disappearing into the drain as he scrubbed his skin raw.
It wasn’t until after he’d turned off the water, wrapped a towel around himself, and padded back onto the dark carpets of the locker room floor that he realized they were no longer alone.
Nathaniel Wesninski was sitting on the end of one of the long benches and looking up at him with hooded eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, frozen, only the white noise of the showers making any sound at all.
Finally, Kevin cleared his throat. “You play well,” he said, because it seemed wrong to keep staring, because it seemed right to force words from his mouth, because maybe if they talked about Exy then maybe they wouldn’t have to talk about the body upstairs.
Nathaniel’s eyes brightened for just a moment, but then he blinked and it was gone, every feature of his face smooth and controlled. “Okay.”
“Night practice will be tougher,” Kevin warned. “Today was just a game. Just a warm-up. Tonight they’ll go for blood.”
Nathaniel shrugged, then pulled a knee up and started unlacing one shoe. “Most of the kids weren’t very good.”
“Yeah. A few were though.” Shrugging, Kevin wriggled into an oversized Ravens t-shirt and combed his fingers through his wet hair. “They usually don’t pick anyone.”
“That’s not fair. Why even hold try-outs at all?”
“They usually don’t pick anyone because there aren’t any kids that can actually keep up.”
“You do. Riko does.”
Kevin wrinkled his nose at that. Riko did because he had to. Kevin did because he had to. There had never been another option. Kevin didn’t mind because he loved Exy more than anything else and this was what it took to be the best. He assumed Riko felt the same way.
“Yeah, well...I don’t know. If you really want to be here then you’ll have to be better than you were during the game. Riko got at least ten shots past you.”
“He’s had way more training–”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m just telling you, if you want a spot you better try harder.”
Nathaniel scowled down at the bench then pulled off his other shoe. The showers cut off, so Kevin focused all of his attention back on getting dressed, and cleaning up his space.
Riko came walking through a moment later, throwing his locker open and toweling off in front of it. “That your dad, yeah?” he asked, still facing the wall.
Kevin didn’t miss the flinch that Nathaniel made.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
Riko didn’t say anything else, and a moment later, a couple of men in dark, perfectly pressed suits walked in.
“You’re supposed to be changed,” one of them said to Nathaniel, eyebrows raised.
“Sorry,” Nathaniel mumbled, then quickly stood up, grabbed the pile of clothing next to him, and headed towards the bathroom.
“Your mother wants you,” the same man said. “Now.”
Nathaniel winced. “Okay, yeah, sorry, I’ll just be a minute.” He disappeared inside one of the toilet stalls, and Kevin heard the sound of gear hitting the floor.
One of the men stepped outside and the other stayed, arms crossed, eyes fixated on the tiled floor of the bathroom.
“Weak,” Riko muttered, slamming his own locker and toeing into his sneakers. “He’ll never make the cut.”
Kevin didn’t say anything else, just followed Riko from the locker room, down the hall, and to the dining room to force down enough calories to get them through night practice.
***