DEVIL SPEAK-chapter 1
Through the small window of frosted glass on the door, it could be seen that the room was dark except for one dim light illuminating a fraction of a body wearing a pinstripe suit. The young man hesitated to enter, but, gulping down his nerves, persevered. He needed a lawyer and he needed one fast. He tapped on the door. "Excuse...me?" He whispered hoarsely "It's Arioka Daiki here, I'm looking for the lawyer Morimoto Ryutaro?"
He wiped his hands on his trousers; they were sweaty enough to admit his nervousness.
"tok tok...”
The sound of shoes approached the closed door, he could hear it even through the thick maple wood, and an unusual feeling wrapped around him. Daiki bit his lip as he cast his eyes downwards, while his head boiled.
"Come in then."
The voice was deep and threatening, with a hint of disinterest that scared him.
"Y-yes" Daiki gulped down for the second time, he blinked a few times to clear his head of his illusions that were rushing back to him now and heating up his ears and put his hand on the old styled doorknob on the ancient door. He made a weird face, stealing himself before he twisted the knob and opened the door. "Excuse..." His pupils widened as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the massive room, and for the third time, Daiki gulped. He closed the door behind him.
The dark figure settled back into the leather seat near the desk in the middle of the room, Daiki, squinting, could pick him out now. He could not see his face but could feel the cold presence of his eyes boring into him like knives. The person at the desk arranged his hands in a steeple position, and leaned back slightly.
“Switch on the light, will you? I was just having a nap." Daiki turned, groped around for the light switch and flicked it on. The bright fluorescent light stung his eyes, and he turned back to the desk, to realize that the figure was a young man, even younger than he was.
He had never seen this kind of pale skin before, it was so pale it matched the piles of white paper that was neatly stacked around the office. He looked like a mannequin. However it was his eyes that really drew Daiki in, wide and innocent, yet sharp as obsidian shards. Daiki realized he was staring and abruptly stopped.
"I have a problem and I need your help,”
"Have a seat please" the lawyer's eyes darted to the ebony chair opposite his, and aware of his commanding authority that seemed unnatural for someone so young, Daiki immediately obeyed.
"What is it you need help with?" His eyes flickered over Daiki, who was still trying to contain his surprise at the youth of the lawyer with such a huge reputation.
"Well." Daiki fidgeted, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the lawyer smirk a little. "I witnessed a murder..." He looked back at the lawyer, to check if he looked shocked, but his face registered no concern, in fact it seemed unmoved. "…and people think I did it."
"Hmmm" Daiki heard a little sigh escaping from the young one, but he didn't take any notice, he was now convinced with the young lawyers influence.
"I trust your skill, I know you are the only one who can help me," said Daiki in a high-pitched tone.
Although Ryutaro’s face was emotionless, his eyes seemed to understand Daiki's plight.
"Tell me about it" Daiki paused, surprised by the frankness of this young man. Encouraged by his stare, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to the incident that had been haunting his conscience.
“Awwwwww Mum! It's too late to be running errands!" Daiki groaned as his mother ushered him from the comfort of the sofa, waving a crisp green note in one hand and a shopping list in the other. "Look here young man, these items are essential! Your dozy father somehow forgot them in the shop, and if we don't get them there'll be no lunchbox for you tomorrow! Besides, I'll let you keep the change~" This bribe had convinced Daiki, and he swiftly snatched the note from his mothers hands with a coy smile as he threw on a jacket. "See ya then~" He crowed as he swung open the door and made his way towards the convenience store.
*Ding*
The bell on the convenience store clanged as Daiki resurfaced back into the dimness of the street, a bulky plastic bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. He whistled contentedly as he pocketed the spare change. Home was only a few minutes away, so Daiki figured he could afford to dawdle. He began to turn the corner, when he suddenly felt the odd prickling sensation that there was something definitely wrong. His throat tightened, closing in on his breath as he heard a very familiar voice behind him. "Dai---kiii---"
Daiki turned slowly as a tide of pure fearful anticipation swept over him, whipping up the hairs on the back of his neck so they stood as straight as needles. He was not prepared for the sight that met him. Blood. So much blood. A crimson mess that crawled towards him, almost unrecognisable as his best friend if not for the voice. Takaki.
"Dai---kii"
Takaki trembled as he raised a red soaked hand. "Plea--se----"
Daiki's heart was racing so fast that there were no more beats and pauses between them, just one continual alarm. This couldn't be happening. Why? How? What? But Daiki had no time to think, as he threw himself to the pavement and bundled Takaki into his arms. His heartbeat was faltering. Oh God. No.
Takaki jerkily turned his head skyward and towards Daiki’s own. His face was almost untouched by the blood that consumed him, aside from small dots of a spray. His expression was indescribable, and as the two friends eyes met Daiki knew there was nothing that could be done.
“Dai---ki-i”
“I’m here Takaki”
Takaki spluttered, splattering a few more blood flecks onto his chin.
“I’m so----sorry.”
“What for?”
Takaki smiled softly, knowingly, but also sadly. The smile stilled and his upturned eyes became mirrors to the stars.
“Oh my god.”
A voice from the road violently broke Daiki out of his reverie, and he ripped his gaze away from the still marble pupils that were once so vibrant and now stared frighteningly from a face so devoid of life it was unrecognizable. The source of the noise seemed almost as blanched as the soulless object that Daiki cradled in his arms, except it was alive, and it was taking in the scene with increasing shock and disgust. It was a boy from Daiki’s class, returning from cram school. In a sickened blur, the boy, Yamada, dropped his bags, the study books splayed onto the pavement and the sound tore through Daiki like thunder.
“What have you done?”