#hl_sword

Nameless Street. He hated the place. There was too much memories there, memories that constantly reminded him of all the pain he endured, but also good memories, which he had come to hate just as much. If not even more.

Like the pair of eyes that was now looking at him with pity. It was nauseating. I missed the burning rage in them, the look of betrayal and hurt he had relished in before the police came to bring him to jail after he had massacred his so called brothers.

The devotion Smokey had for him was something Nikaido once  found thrilling. Gentle, innocent eyes looking up to him, always eager to please and do Nikaido’s every bidding. Nikaido had appreciated it, until one day he didn’t. He found it sickening. He didn’t want devotion and loyalty. He wanted Power.

But the expression Smokey wore now was unsettling, it made Nikaido’s innards turn in a trace of what most would call guilt. It said:

“You threw everything away. And yet you gained nothing.”

Nikaido hated this feeling most of all. He squeezed the knife in his hand until his knuckles turned white.

It would soon be over.