Chapter Text
This wasn't part of the plan.
Nope.
They hadn’t exactly accounted for the fact that the murderer would chase them all the way into the woods. With a blood thirsty woman with a sashimi knife chasing after them, their only option really, was to scatter into the forest. With the sun setting into night, they could only hope to lose her in the darkness and wait it out until the police arrive.
“A-Ayumi! Don’t stop running!” Mitsuhiko had yelled out to her as she slowed to a stop but was instantly grabbed by him to keep her going. Any moment and the murderer would easily catch up to them. If he could, he would have knocked her out with his Soccer ball or his Tranquillizer watch, but fate decided to once again screw him over. Having sent his shoes and watch in for maintenance with Agasa, he was as defenseless as any regular seven year old would be against a murderer with a knife.
“Over there! There’s a warehouse up that hill! We can hide there until the police save us!” In any other situation, that would be a wise decision, but going by the fact that the woman was right on their tails, they’d only end up as sitting ducks. He had to stop them, but it had already been too late when Genta dashed ahead to check it out.
Ayumi called out to him when he paused to look behind them as they all piled into what looked to be an abandoned warehouse. No time to reroute, they’d have to gamble on their luck now. The warehouse was extremely decrepit with its paint having shed long ago to allow rust to form over time. It had many crates and sacks for them to hide in, making it more difficult for the murderer to find them.
“Everyone! In here!” Mitsuhiko hissed at them as he crawled into a crate hidden in the underside of the stairwell. It all felt so familiar to him. The staircase, the metallic stench of rust that just reminded him so much of blood, and the same fear of having his life on the line once again. Deja Vu, as many would call it, would be the best explanation as to what he was feeling right now. Only that, he’s pretty sure he’s been here before. As though he dug his own grave here.
Fuck it. They needed to hide anyways might as well be in a warehouse than out in the open with snakes and spiders. As long as that woman doesn’t follow them or find out where they are hiding then they’d probably be safe for now. One could only hope. They had climbed into the crate with Ayumi and Mitsuhiko being shielded by him and Genta, ready to charge at the culprit should she find them.
He could hear the heavy breathing of the others trying to catch their breaths in such a small enclosed space. He felt sweaty and being surrounded by other sources of heat was not helping at all, especially with the fact that they were practically breathing down each other's neck. Once they get out, he's definitely treating the kids to ice-cream later. If they get out that is. He ignored that small thought. He had to remain optimistic, if not for himself, then for the kids.
creak.
The gates to the warehouse swung on it's rusty hinges.
click. clack. click.
Heels click against the concrete floor. They had only managed to outrun her because she made the wrong choice of footwear.
clack. click. clack.
The sound got louder. Their deaths came closer.
thud.
He wanted out. He NEEDS to get out. Get out. Get out. GET OUT. LETMEOUT-
The footsteps came to a stop.
He could hear Ayumi's whimper, Mitsuhiko's sharp inhale, Genta's fist tightening. He could almost hear his own screams, screams from his past. No wonder this warehouse felt so familiar. He could feel his control slipping. That same feeling five years ago. The horrible feeling of fear for death.
oh but it wasn't his death he was afraid of.
He nudged Genta to move even further behind him. "Protect them." he whispered to their strongest member. If anyone was brave enough to stop a murderer, it'd be Genta. He shifted himself into a crouch as the woman started slamming open the surrounding crates. It was only moments until they would be exposed. Genta turned towards the others, with his back faced towards the opening, holding them closer to him.
slam. Another crate
crack. Another cargo
thud. Another chance.
As the sounds got closer and closer, the detective boys shut their eyes closed tight. They were only kids at the end of the day.
The plank covering the crate shifted.
He lunged forward.