Chapter Text
Kamurocho never slept… but tonight, it was different.
Rain fell over the city steady and unrelenting for hours now, since the sun started to set beyond the clouds, and deep into the midst of the late Friday night.
Almost as if it was trying to wash something away.
Even at this time, you couldn’t truly tell what time it was in this part of the city. Neon lights bled onto the wet streets, their bright colors pulling long and thin streets along the pavement and into the puddles of water. Laughter echoed from the many, many different businesses of the red-light district. Bass thudded through the nightclubs, the drunken slurs of off the clock office men echoed through the alleyways as they tried to stumble their way home, and the small giggles and voices of cabaret girls drawing in patrons are what made the city what it was. It was a cesspool of debauchery, crime, and the night life.
Umbrellas bumped and swayed in the crowd as the storm continued to ring out into the night. While there was no thunder or lightning, the rain itself was heavy and cold.
Whatever was different on this Kamurocho night, not many would notice.
Life goes on, the work day comes to an end, and many go out with their friends for the usual Friday hang outs.
But, it was different for one single woman.
Tonight, Kamurocho was a hunting ground.
Deep in a labyrinth of alley ways and shortcuts of Tokyo, a figure breaks from the unnatural darkness of the downtown area, running for her life between the buildings.
Then, the camera pans to her.
There was motion— the bare foot of a woman hitting into a shallow puddle, splashing around her and drenching what’s left of her shredded black tights.
That woman was you.
Even without shoes, you didn’t slow down.
You couldn’t.
You’d abandoned those heels you’d been forced to wear all those years— those years being kept as a pet for the Baekryeon-pa, and the identity they forced on you. You’d know they’d do nothing but hold you back. That you’d stumble, twist an ankle and be forced back into the life you’d finally managed to claw your way out from. In some twisted sense, leaving your heels behind like some sort of sick Cinderella.
But hopefully, they can’t find you to give them back.
You’d been running for so long now, the painful twisting of the muscles in your thighs and calves making it apparent more than anything. You were running on pure emotion at this point, running on fear, desperation, and adrenaline. You know the moment you run out, it’s over, so you keep on pushing.
You know you’ll collapse at any time now.
Your heart beats wildly in your chest, filling your ears with a thick pounding that barely muffled the distant traffic. You didn’t know this city— not really. These alleys twist like traps, leading you through an iron jungle that will swallow you whole if you end up unlucky enough to find a dead end.
But, you couldn’t look back to check.
You couldn’t slow down.
They were following you.
You pressed yourself closer against the turning point in the wall wall as the passage started to tighten around you. Though it felt far, you saw a bright menagerie of lights at the end of the passage, tempting you forward to civilization, to people that can help.
But it was narrow, even for an already small woman like you.
You didn’t think twice.
You needed help.
You sucked in a haphazard breath as you shimmied your way through the crevice, feeling like the city itself was trying to catch you in its grasp. You made it about half way before it was too late.
Something caught.
For a half step, you didn’t realize what it was. A sudden resistance as you stepped besides a rusting downspout, then a brutal tug at your right hip. The fabric of your soaked dress tore open instantly as it caught onto a piece of jutting metal. The sudden coldness of the rain hits your skin, exposing the previous bruising at your hips and the ink on your skin.
You instinctively stop to try to collect what was left of the tear from your ribs to your hip, gathering the expensive fabric into your arms shakily..
No— no, no, no!
Panic surged through you even worse than before. Everyone was going to see them, the marks upon your skin. They would recognize you the minute they laid eyes on you.
You couldn’t let them see you.
You needed to find help.
You needed to keep running.
You can’t go back.
The terror was evident on your face as you sped up your tight shimmy towards the neon lights of your haven. You tried to keep your chest and hip covered with the torn fabric, tried to keep forward with your damp and destroyed tights, tried to not fight the fears that were now so naturally ingrained into your body from years of abuse. Your grip around yourself was steel— there not just to keep the fabric secure— but an anchor to remind yourself you are still there, still alive.
You were suddenly spit out of the alley into the light.
It was blinding, if only for a moment.
Every sound amplified, the noise overwhelming to your panicked senses. The footsteps of people that walk by without giving you a second glance, the distant clinking of pachinko parlors and gambling halls, all of it overlapping in a dizzying roar of life that you’d never experienced in… a long time.
You slowed just enough to not bump into someone, an older woman grumbling to herself as she sidestepped you with a scowl on her face before continuing down the road.
No one stopped to check on you.
No one asked if you were okay.
No one noticed, or simply chose not to notice.
You hugged yourself together as you desperately tried to pull yourself together, mentally and physically. Your vision started to blur as tears started to spring from your eyes uncontrollably, streaking down your checks with the raindrops. Somewhere in this city, you knew, would be a place you could hide.
You staggered forward on shaking legs, head looking any which way for even an idea of where to start.
Then you saw him.
A man, older than you no doubt but barely, in a dark business suit stopping under an overhang taking into a telephone. He was clean and dry. Untouched by the night or the rain. The faint glow of a cigarette glows between his fingers as he waves it around dramatically while talking into the phone.
He seems normal.
He seemed like someone who could..
Help.
You veered right at him without thinking, feet slapping against the pavement as you almost tripped yourself in your current state. You quickly got ahold of yourself, blinking away the uncontrollable tears that seemed to fall from your eyes at finally seeing other people.
“E-Excuse me,” You gasp, voiced thin and broken from your tiredness. “Please—“
He sharply turns toward you with irritation twisting in his face. His eyes leered at you before dragging over you from head to toe, swinging your torn clothes, shaking hands and wild hair and eyes slick and wet. The look he gave you was not one you wanted to see.
Disgust.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Jesus, you high or something?” He snapped, lowering his phone and taking a step away from you.
“I— no, please, I just—“ You held your dress closer to your exposed body, trying to look as modest as possible as you desperately whispered. “Please, someone’s after me. I need help.”
He scoffs, taking another step back under the awning, voice loud and sharp as he makes disdain more than apparent. “You expect me to believe that? Go sell your sob story to someone else, whore.”
The word hit harder than any slap you’ve ever had.
Your breathing caught in your throat.
Before you knew it, you were bowing your head without realizing it, mumbling. “Please— I just need—“
“Get the fuck away from me.” his voice dropped, venomously low before he dropped his cigarette, putting out what was left harshly with his boot to make a point.
Your blood ran cold.
You flew up defensively, taking a few steps back as you mumbled incoherently as your mind started to spiral again. “I’m sorry— I’m sorry..”
You didn’t get an answer before you turned heel and ran.
He didn’t help you.
No one would help you.
You’re a mess.
You’re a pig.
You froze in your tracks instantly. A sense of dread hit you worse than it ever had since you’d managed to crawl out of whatever hellhole you were kept down in. There were eyes on the back of your neck, you could feel them. You turned, and that’s when you saw them.
Across the street, through the thinning rain and the hole in the wall you crawled out of, you see a man stepping out of the mouth of the alley.
Your stomach gets sour.
Black suit. Immaculate.
Hair. slicked back.
White tie with a lotus design.
Eyes hidden behind shaded glasses, even at night.
It was like the rain itself was afraid to touch him.
Another shape lingered behind him, face also hidden behind a set of the identical glasses. The same suit, the same tie, the same hair style.
They hadn’t seen you yet, but they were close.
Too close.
Your body reacted before your mind could catch up.
And so.. you ran.
You cut through the crowd coming towards you, shoulder clipping into someone hard enough to earn a curse being shouted your way, but you didn’t stop. Your lungs started to burn again. You felt unbalanced. You were starting to lose yourself. You nearly bumped into someone again, catching yourself before you fell.
You didn’t dare look back.
You ran against the current of people all heading your direction, weaving and trying to use your small stature to cry and hide yourself, but it was fruitless.
Every footstep you took felt wrong.
The shadows felt like they were closing in around you.
There, between two loud and bright storefronts, was an unassuming office building. No music. No strobing lights. No people. Just a single, monotone colored hallway that leads to a white door with a sole window. A single light hung above a metal plaque engraved above the door— one you didn’t bother to read since that meant slowing downs
You didn’t care who was inside.
What kind of place this was.
You just needed walls, security, and an anchor to remind yourself you were still here in the real world.
You needed help.