Blood Of The Immortal - Chapter 1 The Dare

Kaito plopped down onto one of the soft, brown, leather sofas in the principal’s office, kicking up his feet onto the wooden coffee table in front of him, knowing full well how much it was going to annoy her. Really, he shouldn’t even be here for such a small offense. It was far from the first time he played a prank on his science teacher, Yamada, Yoshiro who should have expected them on the daily basis at this point. It wasn’t his fault the teacher kept falling for it each time.

The office was on the large and extravagant side. The walls were painted beige and the wood flooring was covered by a large, plush, cream rug that brightened up the room not that the room needed any help brightening up. Behind the desk was a large set of bay windows, framed by white lace curtains. On either side of the desk were large bookshelves embedded into the wall, filled with books of all shapes and sizes, neatly placed in alphabetical order and separated first by language then subject.

Kaito currently sat in the sitting area of the office, reserved for guests where they would be greeted and served tea, and not for troublemaking students. Rather than impatiently stand in front of the imported mahogany desk, Kaito took his chances with the sofa. He had snuck in more than once to take a nap here. It was much more comfortable than the school infirmary’s bed.

Other than the books tossed about on the desk full of bookmarks, the office was spotless, showing the principal’s need for perfection and strive for order. There were no trinkets or anything that would be considered personal with the exception of a single photograph on the desk and a nameplate. It always made waiting a pain as there was nothing of interest to look at. If he so much as touched the principal’s book collection, he would undoubtedly find his hand missing a moment later.

The door to the office opened, and Kaito tilted his head to glance lazily at the woman who entered with a mischievous grin. “Hey, Baa-chan.”

The woman sent him a sharp glare, her lips pulling back into a scowl. “Don’t ‘Baa-chan’ me, Kaito. Don’t you feel any shame for what you’ve done.”

Kaito shrugged, looking away from his godmother. “Not really. He’s not that great of a teacher.” Lifting his hips, he dug out a cigarette from his pocket and put it to his lips. “I’m doing the class a favor.”

The woman’s glare intensified at the offending material, marching over and snatching it away from his lips and crushing it in her hand. Kaito sighed, turning his gaze to her hand then back to her. She was a beautiful woman. Despite being in her mid-fifties, there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight, and her cropped short hair was a perfect light brown without a single strand of gray. It was easy to mistake her for a woman 30 years younger. Unfortunately, she had a temper that proved the American stereotypes right and often scared the students into submission. “Really, Baa-chan?”

“You’re underage,” she scolded, “and smoking is bad for your health.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed, rubbing his hand through his blond locks. “Can I go now? It’s almost lunch.”

“Kaito,” she nearly growled.

“Look,” he sighed, “it wasn’t even that bad. I just strung him up by his ankle with an invisible wire.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” she yelled. Realizing her mistake, she took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes, leaning against the desk. The desk creaked softly under her weight, sounding as if it was sighing with her. “You’re not a ninja Kaito, and that prank could have seriously hurt him. Most students would be expelled by now.”

“No one got hurt, Baa-chan. It’s just a little prank.”

Kaito could see a vein popping out on the woman’s forehead; she was trying, and ultimately failing, to keep her composure. Exhaling rather loudly, she walked over to him, her heels clicking on the wooden floor, and squatted in front of him so they could meet eye to eye. “Kaito,” she said, gentle and warm. “You can’t keep acting out like this. Kenji wouldn’t want–”

“You don’t know what he would have wanted. He’s not here, is he?” The playful glint Kaito had present in his eyes since seeing her had turned steely.

Sadness crept into her hazel eyes as well as sympathy, but it didn’t diminish the disappointment and anger she held towards him for his behavior. The muscles in her arm ticked as she clenched her fists, barely restraining her anger a common occurrence whenever he was in the room it seemed. “I will let you off with a warning, Kaito,” she stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of her gray skirt. “But do it again, and you’re out for good.”

Kaito’s grin returned with a vengeance, spreading across his lips as if it had never left, beaming brightly. Jumping up to his feet, he was eager to leave. “Thanks, Baa-chan. See you at dinner.”

“Tell that old man to clean up once in a while!” The comment was cut off as the heavy door closed behind him, chuckling at her behavior. If she just admitted she liked his godfather, they could stop the ‘coming by once a week to check up on things’ charade they insisted on keeping up, yet her stubbornness about the entire situation made it all the more entertaining.

He turned to head toward the cafeteria, intending to get a head start on the rush when he bumped into someone. She must have been running because he stumbled back, and a girl fell to the floor, her blue plaid, uniform skirt blew up until she hurriedly pulled it down. “Watch where you’re goi–” then her dark brown eyes widened in realization when she noticed him, “Oh, Kaito-kun,” her voice turned overly sweet. “I didn’t see you there.”

He winced inwardly at her tone, but still smiled at her and extended a hand to help her up. “Atsuko-chan, you should be more careful.” Atsuko was his girlfriend, or at least in name. She was of average height and had chin length black hair with a few highlights. A lot of boys at the school thought she was beautiful with her pale skin and big, dark brown eyes, giving her the appearance of many current pop stars. Because of that, she had a reputation; one he was kind of hoping was true.

She took his hand, and he helped her up. Her grip was stronger than one would expect of her thin build. “Sorry. I was just… Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

“Yeah of course,” he responded automatically, not quite remembering what he had promised. Thankfully, she didn’t ask for any details, and quickly excused herself, walking around him and into the principal’s office. The lunch bell rang.

Students poured into the halls, switching classrooms, heading to the school’s cafeteria, or just taking a walk to stretch their legs during the lunch hour, but they all kept their distance, going out of their way to leave a large bubble of empty space around him.

Hakuei High School was a private institution with an insanely difficult entrance exam. Despite its elite classes and high tuition, the school itself was relatively down to earth. The buildings, while new, were modest with only the necessities needed to succeed. The rich students couldn’t use their money and influence, forced to do club activities, sports, and study just like everyone else. Everyone wore the uniform and followed the rules set by the principal/chairman, Krista Breeding.

And then there was Kaito’s class. It was full of foreigners and oddballs, people like Kaito and his friends who didn’t quite fit in with everyone else. And it wasn’t just the students of Year 3 Class E either. The teachers were just as peculiar. As a result, majority of the normal students stayed away from them and put in the extra effort to stay away from him in particular. His reputation preceded him, and no right-minded individual would risk associating with an orphan of a low class who caused trouble on a daily basis. So, they avoided him as if just a single touch would contaminate them. But he was used to that behavior. After all, he was Takeda, Kaito. Everyone on the island knew that name.

“Well if it isn’t, Cherry-kun.”

Kaito fought the urge to bang his head against the window, hearing the familiar voice behind him. “Stop calling me that,” he snapped, turning to the boy who had given him the embarrassing nickname.

The boy was tall and lanky with thin black hair that seemed kind of oily. Takumi was the recluse artist type that skipped class often to hide in the art room to paint. As such, his skin looked like he hadn’t seen sunlight in the past ten years, but that wasn’t what threw most people off. He always kept an even, almost calming tone, a sharp contrast to his often provoking words. For some reason, ever since Takumi found out that Kaito was a virgin, he had taken to calling him “Cherry-kun”, and no matter how hard Kaito tried, he could not get Takumi to stop.

Takumi tilted his head to the side. He had taken off his uniform’s blazer, and the white shirt beneath was stained with splotches of paint. “Have you gotten laid?” he asked.

“No, I’m still a virgin. With my luck, I’ll probably stay a virgin, but just stop calling me that!” Without realizing it, Kaito; voice gradually rose with his annoyance, gaining the attention of everyone in the hallway who had gone silent.

Kaito’s cheeks grew red with embarrassment when the students began to whisper and gossip to one another, stealing glances at him. He walked right into that one, pretty much handing his embarrassment to Takumi on a silver platter. Right now would be an excellent time to make an escape before it became worse.

“I can’t say that I’m surprised, Takeda. People have standards after all.” The new voice had Kaito cursing his luck. He had just come from Krista’s office. He really couldn’t afford to go back.

The newcomer was different from Takumi by the fact that he had an aura of someone well off. Immaculately groomed, his mid-back length, dark brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail, tall, perfect posture, and holding unwavering confidence, he was the school’s heartthrob. However, despite being in class A, he too had a peculiarity. His eyes were a light green.

He was also a year older than the rest of the class having been held back a year. No one knew why. He had been top of his class that year, so it was a shock when he was not allowed to graduate with his peers and forced to repeat the year.

“Piss off, Nijima,” Kaito said wearily, bumping his forehead lightly against the window with a dull thud. “I really don’t want to kill you today.”

Nijima, Yuji raised an eyebrow condescendingly. “Is it safe for you to make threats like that, Takeda?”

Kaito glared, his fists clenching at his sides until they drew blood. He wouldn’t be held responsible for what happened next if Nijima decided to go where he thought he was going.

“After all,” Nijima continued, “you’re still under suspicion for killing your father, aren’t you?”

The next thing Nijima knew, he was grabbed by his throat and slammed against the hallway windows, causing them to shake from the force. “Watch what you say Nijima,” he growled softly, “because it might just be your last.”

Fear crept into Nijima’s eyes before it was hastily suppressed. It was like this every time. Nijima would push Kaito over the edge, and Kaito would snap. No matter how much he expected it, Nijima would know what buttons to push and when. He could not stop himself from rising to the bait nor stop himself from tightening his hands around the older boy’s throat.

“Takeda,” a familiar hand touched Kaito’s shoulder, causing Kaito’s shoulder to tense, but the hand didn’t try to pull him away from strangling the boy. “Let him go.”

The gentle words pulled Kaito away from his anger enough to respond in a low growl. “Akira, he”

“I know.” In the corner of his eye, Kaito could see Akira’s dark, almost maroon, red hair and piercing golden-brown eyes staring at him. “But settle it off of school grounds. He’s not worth getting expelled over.”

Kaito’s grip tightened a little more before he released Nijima. It was only then Kaito realized he had been holding Nijima off the ground by his neck when he let go, and Nijima fell to the floor, coughing for air.

With a shaky step back, Kaito tried to compose himself and focus on Akira’s face though he rather look anywhere else. Akira held his gaze with a steady stare, acting as his anchor for Kaito to center himself around until his anger dampened. Slowly, Kaito breathed in and exhaled, letting go of his anger.

“I guess that means you won’t take our offer,” Nijima coughed out.

“What offer?” Akira asked, turning his cold stare to Nijima.

Nijima met his Akira’s eyes for a brief second before quickly looking away, seemingly uncomfortable with being the target of Akira’s gaze. His arrogant posture dropped slightly. “Where’s Mori?” he asked Takumi, his voice still raspy from being choked.

The artist shrugged half-heartedly, not overly concerned for Nijima. “The practice building most likely.”

Nijima pushed his bangs out of his face, his breathing finally back to normal. He waited for Kaito’s attention before speaking. “Two nights ago, a group of teenagers went into the abandoned mansion south of here. Earlier this morning, their bodies were found dumped in front of the clinic. Rumor has it they died from blood loss.” Nijima smirked. “So I want to dare you to check out the house yourself.”

Kaito chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “And why would I do something stupid like that?”

“Why?” Nijima challenged. “Scared?”

Not one to back down, Kaito smiled darkly. “Not on your life. You think I’d chicken out over some ghost story?”

“Idiots,” Akira muttered under his breath, already walking away from the conversation. Kaito was inclined to go with him, but his pride kept him from doing so until his confrontation with Nijima was settled.

“Does that mean you’ll take the challenge?”

“Midnight tonight.”

“Good.” Nijima straightened himself, fixing the uniform that Kaito had messed up. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Takumi and Nijima walked away, and the crowd that had surrounded them dispersed now that the show was over. Running to catch up to his friend, Kaito gave Akira an apologetic smile.

“You’re leaving,” Akira said, obviously not approving.

“You can’t seriously think I can stay here after that asshole just…” Kaito trailed off under his friend’s unmoving gaze. “I just need some air.”

Akira grunted, leading the way toward the shoe lockers. “You shouldn’t rise to every challenge he throws at you. He’s looking to get you in trouble.”

“You don’t think I know that? He just irritates me so much,” Kaito exhaled angrily. Just thinking of that rich pretty boy nearly made his temper snap. What was even more infuriating was that he knew Nijima was afraid of him. Today was not the first time Kaito had lost control. Every time, he saw the fear in Nijima’s eyes, just like with everyone else. Nijima was just the only one stupid enough to keep repeatedly doing it. It just didn’t make sense.

They walked in silence for a bit. Akira was mostly his polar opposite. The redhead was never much of a talker and preferred others to stay away from him. In fact, if there was anyone more unstable than Kaito, it was definitely Akira. Akira was known for his short, violent tempers, yet Akira was always the one to keep him out of trouble, being his silent shadow and companion, unlike his much louder friend, Saigo, Daisuke.

Akira wasn’t Japanese. In fact, he had a hint of Middle Eastern in his features, despite his unusual hair and eye color, but there was barely a trace of it in his speech. He spoke perfect Japanese as if bred and raised, but Kaito knew that wasn’t the case. Akira, however, wouldn’t talk about it, and Kaito didn’t push.

Throwing his arm over Akira’s shoulder, he grinned at his friend’s stiff posture. Only he could do this without getting beaten half to death, and a part of him found pleasure that someone trusted and liked him enough for him to be the exception. “Thanks, Akira. For back there.”

“Don’t mention it… Ever.”

Laughing, Kaito released him, arriving at his shoe locker. He pulled out his outdoor shoes, slipping them on and placed his indoor ones outside. “Tell Daisuke I’ll call him after he gets out.”

“If I remember,” Akira said, not making any promises. He held up a black, leather school bag.

Smiling, Kaito took his bag from Akira. His friend knew his habits well. Waving, Kaito left the school, carrying his bag over his shoulder.

Hakuei was made up of mountainous terrain. The school was built on the top of one peak, overlooking the newly developed city underneath. After World War II, the area had gone through a huge economic boom, attracting many foreigners to the small island. The old traditional families that had resided on the island for centuries still had their large houses spread throughout the island, and the foreigners who had come shortly after the war, for some reason, stayed and had their children here. It wasn’t uncommon to see a mixture of Japanese and quite a few foreigners wandering around the town, yet people were always surprised when they looked at him.

Kaito got on the bus and took a seat, staring out the window. No matter where you were on the island, you could see the ocean in the distance. It was the best thing about this place. Even if the ocean was barely a spec, it was always there. To past the time, he put on his headphones. Today, he needed to see the water up close.

He rode the bus as far as he could. Getting off, it was still a half an hour walk to the rocky shore. The other side of the island had the sandy white beaches, but here there were fewer people with the occassional fishermen. At this time of day, the docks were empty, and he could sit on the edge and let his feet soak in the water without worrying about wary eyes staring at him.

The water was as clear as was the sky, and the salty breeze ruffled his hair. He loved the water. He loved everything about it except for the image that it always reflected back at him. Crystal blue eyes. Shaggy, bright blond hair. Tanned skin. There was barely a trace of his Asian characteristics. The only thing that gave him away was the shape of his eyes and nose and a slightly roundish face. No one would believe he was three-fourths Japanese. It wasn’t natural.

But it was the scar he hated seeing the diagonal scar on his left cheek from a knife wound on the day of his father’s death. That’s all he knew about it. The scar was smooth and to be honest, under certain conditions, it couldn’t be seen, but it was always present in his mind, binding him like shackles. He couldn’t even remember how he received it, yet it seemed to control him, brand him.

What did anyone know about his father’s death? He didn’t even know about the circumstances, and he was the only one there. He couldn’t remember. That day was nothing but a thick fog. Why should he be labeled for something he wasn’t sure he did?

His cell rang, bringing him out of his thoughts. Absentmindedly, he answered with a dull, “Hello?”

“Kaito, you bastard! How could you ditch school without me?”

A smile inched its way on the teen’s face. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he sang. He could picture Daisuke’s frustrated face perfectly.

“Don’t give me that. Takumi is telling everyone about what happened in the hallway. And then, I had to go bother Akira about what happened, and you know he scares the shit out of me.”

Kaito couldn’t hide his laugh this time. “He’s not that bad.”

“He threatened to skin me!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kaito stood, putting his shoes back on. “I’ll meet you at my place. The old man is delivering his manuscript today.”

Distant chatter could be heard over the line before Daisuke replied. “Akira says he won’t be a part of the dare, and you’re on your own if you do it.”

“Figures,” he laughed. “I’ll see you soon.” He hung up. With the walk and a second bus trip, he and Daisuke would arrive around the same time. Shrugging off his worries, he let out a giant grin. That was enough moping about for now. Tonight, he would show up Nijima and have a little fun because Takeda, Kaito would not be intimidated by myths and ghosts. Laughing to himself, he left the docks and the sea behind, intending to show everyone just how ridiculous it was to believe in the supernatural.