Day One - Mele Kilikimaka


Characters: Ritsu Kasanoda

Genre: Angst

Triggers: Mention of murder, blood


Clear cerulean water rolled across the white sand as the ocean tumbled onto the native white sand, leaving its shadow as the water retreated back into the rolling foam. Exotic calls echoed from the far distance, riding the warm breeze that rustled the palm trees and high grass by the tree line. With the bright sun shining above the beautiful islands of Hawaiian it was essentially paradise, a part of Hawaii tucked away and hidden from even the tourist maps.

Ritsu sat in the hot sand in only a pair of polyester swim trunks with his knees brought to his chest. He let the water lap at his toes but he hardly noticed the chilled water as his eyes wandered over the water's horizon and his mind even farther. He wrapped his arms around his legs and put his back against the breeze, hardly noticing the soft breeze made his long red hair tickle his neck.

This little piece of Heaven on Earth was meant to be a tropical vacation for the Kasanoda syndicate, a hefty price that cost his father three years of earnings from their brothels alone. It was supposed to act as an escape from their filthy reality in Tokyo, Japan.

He never thought he'd use this corner of paradise as his hiding ground. The palm trees and sunshine were nothing but veils. The ocean waves were nothing but distance. His resort cabin was nothing but a box to hide his cowardly face.

He left.

He ran.

Kasanoda buried his face in his palms and closed eyes, not wanting to feel the sunshine warm is face. He didn't deserve to feel paradise against his skin. Not after what he had done.

He brought his father's face back from memory, remembering his tired sunken eyes and paled cheeks as he lied in his death bed. The last memory Kasanoda will ever have of his beloved father. The once strong man who raised him to be the next pillar for their syndicate had finally fallen, peacefully in his sleep, but his death echoed throughout the Japan and summoned their rivals and enemies to emerge from hiding.

At first his men had caught a few spies lurking in their grounds; hiding in their bushes, climbing their roof, and even trying to blend in with the morning clean-up crew. They were all executed.

Kasanoda protested their deaths in the beginning, arguing that he didn't want to start his lead with blood on his hands, but his men reminded him his entire lineage was built on spilled blood. He was born into blood and he will die in blood. That has been the way of the Kasanoda syndicate for as long as time can remember. This is the life he was expected to live, the legacy he would have to pass down, the name he would wear on his tombstone.

Then it happened. Two spies breached the grounds early in the morning armed with knives. They managed to sneak into Kasanoda's sleeping quarters but clumsily bumped into his oak chest. Right as he opened his eyes the intruders sliced his throat. Kasanoda managed to push one into his mirror which made the glass shatter. The sound was enough to awaken his men and within minutes they had the two intruders surrounded. Their first aid man tended to Kasanoda's wound and thankfully declared it wasn't deep enough to kill him.

As for the men, Kasanoda didn't exactly remember what happened to them. His memory recalled in bits and pieces. He remembered feeling a cold wooden knife handle, the pleading eyes of one of the men, blood dark as black running down their neck…

Tetsuya made the decision to put Kasanoda into hiding until they could handle the stampede of rivals. Kasanoda refused to, knowing he'd be seen as a coward, running away the first time his leadership is threatened. He wasn't a killer. He wasn't a coward.

That was two weeks ago.

Kasanoda sighed and dug his fingertips into his forehead. He felt angry wrinkles forming and traced them with his index finger.

Kasanoda knew the truth.

Although his memories were few he knew who killed the two men that night. He knew who slit their throats. He knew who whispered, "An eye for an eye," before he pressed the blade across their pale skin. He knew exactly who stopped fighting against Tetsuya demands and willingly packed his luggage. He knew who boarded the plane without so much turning around to face his men – because how could he look them in the eye after agreeing to run away.

Kasanoda was a killer.

Kasanoda was a coward.