A Few Years Prior
Post-Kira Era
Tokyo, Japan
Kenichi still had a hard time managing his company.
His father had passed only a few years back. Even though he had graduated with a business degree and worked just for the experience, suddenly being shoved to the topmost seat from struggling to finish his resume made it all seem unrealistic. Inheriting riches? The Matsumoto Manor? He suddenly felt like wanting to return to the past, drinking coffee at 4AM and finishing his term paper.
Even post-death he still thought if he really deserved the position. Yes, he had studied abroad throughout his college years. So what? It wasn't such a big deal to him as much as suddenly leading a multi-dollar company that once rivaled Yotsuba. All of a sudden, he had advertisements to approve and people to hire. There were meetings to attend, lawyers to argue and agree with, papers from court to sign and check, wills to listen to...
In all of that, he didn't realize that he had forgotten to have the driver fetch him from work.
Which was why he was walking home.
Sure, there were taxis and buses. But he didn't want to risk getting inside one and end up mugged or thrown into the middle of nowhere - just as people were exaggerating nowadays.
Who would do that? This is Tokyo, he thought sullenly as he walked. Even with that, he resolved to walking. Besides, walking was healthy. He told himself that firmly. Walking would get him into better shape, better form.
Walking...walking would let him think.
He needed a reliable secretary who wouldn't stare him down because of how young he was. He needed lawyers who wouldn't stuff his head with baby talk. Kenichi was smart, and he knew that. He was smart enough to pass a foreign university. He was smart enough to be cum laude.
But apparently, those damned people didn't think so.
He kicked at a stone and watched as it tumbled down the sidewalk. Kenichi tightened his coat around himself and kept walking. It was late, so damn late. He wished he accepted Nakashima's offer and rode home with her. But alas, his pride had gotten in the way.
Why did he forget? He took his phone out and cursed loudly - it died. Right. It died only an hour before while he was sorting files and managing strategies that would make their sales skyrocket.
Kenichi really didn't have a choice, then. He looked ahead of him, then at the road. No taxis came by, strangely, which only fueled his irritation, his chagrin. Kenichi breathed in, then out, and tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat, attempting to warm them.
He turned a corner and kept walking, slightly apprehensive. He knew the place, he knew where he lived - in fact, it was only a mere ten or fifteen minute walk. There were coffee shops on the way and he could simply buy a drink and chill before continuing. He sketched out the plan in his head. Coffee or tea or whatever, and then home.
Then change, charge his phone, check email and whatnot, then fall asleep without touching the meal that was brought into his room, most likely. He still wasn't used to living in a manor, surrounded by househelp that served his every need.
His footsteps echoed. The sound made his heart race. Kenichi preferred the company of other people. He despised being alone, solitary confinement or whatever the term was - he needed someone to talk to as he walked the lonely way back home. The man attempted to clear his head and exhaled slowly; he had to be closer to home than he was minutes ago.
The man stopped by a light and his hand shakily took out his lighter, then a pack of cigarettes. Fumbling, he took one out and lit it, quickly taking a drag to calm himself down.
"Breathe, Kenichi, breathe," he reminded himself. "Goddamn. No one's going to come here. No one's going to put something to your neck."
"Are you sure about that?"
The man felt a gun against his back and swallowed, freezing in place. Shit. Shit. Shit. Why now, God why now. He heard more footsteps and guessed that there were two, maybe three men there ready to mug him.
"I'll give you my things," he replied. As calmly as possible. Kenichi attempted to remove the cigarette from his mouth, but one of them harshly ripped it from his mouth, making the man splutter.
"Pockets," the one with the gun grunted. Kenichi stayed still as everything, literally everything he had on him was taken away. He cursed silently when they got his wallet, then his phone, and then the watch on his wrist. Kenichi attempted to turn around to persuade, to talk, but a harsh hand shoved him down and he hit his head, numbly feeling them strip him of his coat as well.
Lighter. Smokes. Ah, fuck.
He couldn't get up. The pain in his head was intense -
"Don't you dare move," he heard. A new voice.
"The fuck are you?!"
"I said," Kenichi closed his eyes and groaned quietly, straining to hear, "Don't fucking move." he heard the sound of staggering but couldn't formulate anything else.
The thugs stared at the newcomer and started to pull out their own weapons, but the newcomer was too quick for that. The other half of the duo found himself on the ground and the main man was stumped before dropping his weapon and scrambling off. The other was knocked out.
"Piece of shit," the person muttered. Kenichi thought he heard the trace of an English accent. A body was dragged. The person might have leaned them against the brick wall.
Finally, he felt the stranger turn him on his back.
"Sir? Are you alright? Ah, fuck - you're bleeding."
"Wallet," he croaked.
His sighed was messed up. He couldn't even see right.
"I've got your things right here. Don't worry." he thought he nodded. "I'm sorry, but you look like shit and I have to bring you to the hospital."
"No hospital," Kenichi wheezed. He thought the other snorted.
"Yes, hospital."
The face came into focus.
Red hair, blue eyes. Early to mid twenties. Dark clothes. The odd shape of a gun in his pocket.
"Just let me help you out."
Kenichi closed his eyes and finally nodded.
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