It Might Not Be Stockholm

Chapter 1

Stockholm Syndrome: or capture–bonding, is a psychological phenomenon in which hostages express empathy and sympathy and have positive feelings toward their captors, sometimes to the point of defending them. The FBI's Hostage Barricade Database System shows that roughly 8% of victims show evidence of Stockholm syndrome.

The sound of water running through pipes. A steady wsssshhhh. Wsssshhh. Wsssshhhh. Wsssshhhh. Sharp, grey-green eyes slowly opened. A pair of wrists hung crucified above a mop of cleanly cut blonde hair. Blood dropped from the wrists, along with a small point in a bare chest. A mixture of blood and vomit was crusted in the corner of a defined mouth. Muscular arms and legs hid behind ripped suit pants and a torn white button up shirt.

The eyes scanned their surroundings. A dimly lit room— two light bulbs. From the looks of it, between 18 by 25 feet or 25 by 18 feet, and yes, there was a difference to the eyes. The floor was dirty, and covered in brown splotches of what the eyes could only fathom to be blood. The wrists attempted to move. No luck. They were bound above the eyes, in a manner similar to crucifixion. The legs attempted to move. No luck either. They were strapped together mid-shin, restricting movement altogether. The mouth spat twice, trying aimlessly to remove the blood-vomit mixture from its corner.

The eyes returned to their investigation. There was a single door on the rightmost wall, all the way across the room. The crucified eyes were on the leftmost wall of the room, bound with metal, most likely iron, shackles. There was a table covered in scissors, a section of wall displaying them as well. Trained ears caught the sound of the pipes again. Wssshhhh. Wssssshhhhh. Wssshhh. The dingy walls of the room began to draw closer to the eyes. They closed, refusing to open.

It was not for a while that the eyes reopened. They peered slowly up, finding the exact same room they had shut in. A barely audible "Tsk." escaped the mouth. The light closest to the door was off, the eyes noticed. Why? they wondered. The nose below the eyes caught a smell. Is it… myself? The eyes pondered, the nose attempting to smell around itself. Yes, it is myself. The head lolled and began to look around the room again. The eyes noticed several of the pairs of scissors were missing from the table. My kidnapper took them. That's the only logical explanation.

The eyes traveled down. I have to use the restroom, they thought, badly. The eyes finally caught sight of the blood on a toned, muscular chest. Not too deep of a wound, the eyes noticed. It should heal quickly. It would heal even faster if I could get bandages on it, but that certainly won't happen any time soon. It was at this time that the eyes realized that a shriveled stomach was growling; starved of food or drink.

Now, not only the eyes, but the entire head moved upwards, to get a better look of the room. It was certainly 18 by 25 feet, now that the eyes could see clearer than before. The head throbbed with pain as it moved, and the neck cracked over and over. The mouth finally decided to make an entrance, calling out a single phrase in a deep, bedroom-like voice.

"Let me go."

The voice rang through the dingy room, crashing into the walls and back at the eyes. The head shook, trying to void itself of the noise, and a pair of white glasses hit the ground, a single lens cracking.

"Damn it all." The voice said disdainfully. The voice decided to try again.

"Let me go." But that won't work, I've been kidnapped. What do I think I'm doing? I'll try something else.

"Show yourself." Suddenly, the sharp ears picked up on the sound of shoes, tapping on the ground at a fast walking pace. There was a sound of the door unlocking. And then the handle turned and swung open, the shadow of a figure cast onto the floor. An almost silent "heeheeheehee" began to dance in the room.

"Let me go." The voice called a third time, more confident now.

"No." Another voice, more feminine, but certainly more terrifying, returned.

"I demand you let me go. I wish to go home. Untie me from this position and let me go back to my home."

"Absoluetly not." The voice, definitely one of a female, said angrily, crashing against the walls and shooting into the well trained, yet raw, ears, "You'll go to the police, the government, the UN! I can't allow that at all, now can I?" The mouth shut. It was true, after all. The moment freedom was attained, the police would be involved.

"What's the matter? You're awfully quiet over there."

"I just want to return home."

"Nope! You're not leaving until you're dead. Until my scissors have you crucified in an alleyway somewhere." It isn't possible…

"Scissors? Crucifixion? Are you… Genocider Syo?"

"Ah! You're familiar with my work! How lovely~!"

"I'm… fascinated by it. I had no idea you were a woman. Let... me see your face."

"Well, I suppose, since you already know who I am… Sure!" The female voice said before flicking on the light closest to the door and stepping into the glow.

Rough ash colored tennis shoes were coupled with snow white socks. A long brown skirt stopped at mid-shin, a thin horizontal stripe surrounding the bottom, coupled by a long sleeved sailor school uniform shirt in the same color, red scarf tucked underneath the collar. Two long brown braids touched the hem of the skirt. A pair of wire-looking glasses were perched on a small nose, covering red eyes. The most defining feature, however, was the long, bright red tongue that protruded from the girl's mouth. The eyes figured it would have gotten in the way of her speech, but it didn't.

"Genocider Syo's the name— murder's the game! I only kill the hottest of the hotties, only guys that turn me on have the esteemed privilege of meeting my blades!" Two pairs of scissors swung from the girl's fingers. "And you, sexy, have been chosen out of everyone in Japan, to be my next victim! But… but I couldn't just kill you, dear me no! A rich, handsome man like you can't just be killed, there would be riots in the streets! I needed to bring you back here to spend some time with me before they find you dead dead dead!" Genocider's face, at this point, was red with an orgasmic blush, a bit of drool dripping down from the corner of her mouth.

"Yes, yes! A man like Byakuya Togami— he cannot just be killed right away, or they'd find me much too soon! GYAAWAHAHAHA!"

Byakuya Togami was the sixteen year old son of Shun and Misao Togami and the heir to the Togami Conglomerate. The youngest of sixteen, Byakuya bit and clawed his way to the top of his family, making himself heir against all odds.

Misao Togami was the third wife of Shun, and gave birth to Byakuya, his older brother Yoshiki, and his older sisters Mayu and Asuka. She had been married to Shun for 19 years at the time, and was the light of his life.

Shun was a powerful banker both in Japan and overseas. He spent most of his money on charity events and housing for his children, all of whom had their own private mansion, estate, or castle, in any part of the world they so desired.

All, except for Byakuya and Yoshiki. Byakuya and Yoshiki were 18 months apart, and under the legal limit to be an adult. Both could decide if they wanted to live with their mother and father, or in a separate house, still owned and run by the parents. Yoshiki chose to live with them, Byakuya, by himself. Byakuya now lived in a lavish mansion; alone, with a wait staff of twenty. The mansion was used for Togami family parties, and was even bigger, bolder, and more beautiful than the actual Togami family estate.

"What the fuck are you daydreaming about?! You're supposed to be basking the glory that is my figure~!" Syo said, cutting of Togami's thoughts about his family with a burst of cackling laughter. She twirled a pair of scissors around her index finger.

"Can I have something to eat?" Togami asked. "Or some means of going to the restroom?"

"No way! You're my prisoner, not my guest!" Syo turned around, flicked off the light closest to the door, and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Several minutes later, the door reopened, the smell of …something wafting into the room.

"I… brought you something to eat." A timid voice said, flicking on the light. The girl standing before Togami now looked almost the same as Syo, same clothes, glasses, braids, but she had gray eyes and no long tongue.

"You look different." Togami pointed out, mostly to himself.

"From… her? Yes, I do. Because I'm not her…" The girl's shoes tapped lightly on the stone ground until she was close to Togami's crucified figure. She wheeled over the table, which Togami now realized it was not a table, but a cart, covered in scissors, placing all of them on a bottom shelf. She set down a tray containing a glass ice water and a mug of steaming soup.

"I need to use the restroom more than I desire food." Togami said sternly, staring down at the girl.

"I… I can't let you down… I want to, I really, really, do, but if I let you go you would try to run, and if you try to run, there's a chance she would show up, and if she shows up, you… die. I don't w-want that, and I don't think y-you do either." She reached next to the scissors a pulled out an empty two-liter soda bottle.

"I have no use of my hands." The girl's face turned redder than it was before, and she began to stammer about how perverse it was to be doing such a thing, and how she was such a shameful whore.

"Stop stammering." The girl's mouth closed. Togami stared at the bottle. "Could I have one of my hands?" He asked. "You can tie it back up afterwords. Also, I would appreciate the blood-vomit mixture being wiped from my mouth. If it isn't too much to ask." He added quickly, remembering he was still a prisoner. The shy girl looked down, and pulled a handkerchief from her shirt pocket, dipping it into the glass of water. She stood on her toes and wiped the corner of Togami's mouth, removing the blood and vomit.

"I still do have to use the restroom."

"R-right. I-I-I don't really know… how to go about that…"

"Just let my hands free and turn around. Take away the chance of my using a weapon, if you must."

"If I untie your hands, you'll break at the w-waist."

"Then untie one hand. …Please." Togami scornfully added. The girl reached up and untied a single hand, handing him the bottle. She then turned around.

Togami made quick work of urinating in the bottle. It greatly embarrassed him to be doing something so private in front of another person, especially a girl his age, no matter how little the embarrassment actually showed on his face.

"Thank you." He said after he had finished. The girl held out a hand, refusing to look in his direction, and Togami placed the bottle in it. She capped the bottle and returned it to its spot next to the scissors. He then zipped up his pants.

"You can tie my hand up again." The girl finally turned around.

"O-okay. I'm not as good as tying knots as she is, but I don't think she'll really noticed. Have… have you talked to her? I-I hope you haven't."

"I talked to her earlier. I'm assuming you mean Syo." The girl winced and she finished the knot.

"If it isn't too much to ask, could you not say her name? It… it bothers me."

"Oh. I won't do it again." Togami said. The girl wiped off his chest injury and said, mostly to herself,

"It isn't too deep, which is good. It'll heal on its own, but I can at least do this for now…" She took some antibacterial cream and rubbed it on the wound, placing a small circular bandage on the wound. "Would you like the soup?" She asked.

"Yes, please." Togami replied. The girl picked up the mug and brought it over to him. She took the spoon and held it up to his mouth, Togami drinking it greedily.

"Who are you?" He asked after about half of the mug was gone.

"I'm… Tôko Fukawa." The girl said, holding up another spoonful of soup to Togami.

"Byakuya Togami."

"I-I know… I have no place here, with such a prominent societal figure, and I'm s-so sorry that she brought you here…" Tears dropped from her eyes, landing on the disgusting blood-stained floor.

"Can I ask one more question?" Togami asked after a few more sips of soup. Fukawa set down the empty mug, and gestured toward the water. Togami shook his head, no.

"Yes, then?"

"How long… have I been here?" Fukawa looked at her fingers, moving them silently up and down. She put up all ten and a sick feeling began to form in the pit of Togami's stomach.

"This is the fourth day. Y-you were knocked out un-until now… I was worried you'd died… I came down to check whenever I could, but y-your heart was still beating wh-when I wou-would check your p-pulse and I'm not a lecher I swear!"

"Calm down." Togami said. He could tell he had the upper hand with this girl, but Syo was another, much more dangerous, story.

"I-I'm sorry." Fukawa replied, setting down the glass. "I really should be going before she shows up again… I don't want that, and neither do you… She almost showed up making the soup, and I—" Fukawa picked up the tray and dashed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Togami sighed and noticed Fukawa had taken several pairs of the scissors with her when she left.

The door was suddenly violently kicked open. Syo brandished several pair of scissors between her fingers.

"SHE FED YOU, DIDN'T SHE?! HOLY SHIT, SHE FED YOU AND SHE CLEANED UP THE VOMIT AND THE BLOOD! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?!" Syo went into an angry rampage about how Fukawa could have possibly done something so fucking stupid, and how she was completely appalled at her behavior and how, if it wouldn't kill her too, she would murder her and her ugly face and stupid glasses.

Togami desired to point out she wore the same glasses Fukawa did, but he decided that it would be in his best interest not to.

"UGH, GOD DAMMIT!" Syo screamed, plunging a pair of scissors into Togami's arm and pulling it out quickly, letting the blood spill everywhere.

"That felt good. And maybe you'll die of blood loss, I don't know. Just as long as you—" A very loud sneeze erupted from Syo's mouth, causing her to step back.

"Wh-what's going—? Oh my god, your arm!" A voice that was certainly Fukawa's timid voice yelled. The scissors dropped to the ground and Fukawa began untying Togami's hands and feet, and rushing him out of the room.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god…" The slew of words came pouring from Fukawa's mouth as she ran him out of the room, down two hallways, up a flight of steps, through two more hallways, a dining room, and finally into a kitchen. She set him on the island, yanked off his suit jacket, and peeled off his bloodstained button up shirt. Ignoring the noxious feeling in her stomach and head from staring at all the blood, Fukawa held Togami's arm up to the light pouring in through the windows above the sink.

"Flex the muscles. It-it helps to slow th-the blood flow, i-is all!" He flexed his muscle and Fukawa started to blush. She ran off into the bathroom and pulled antibiotic cream, bandages, and cloths out of the cupboard. She returned to the kitchen to find Togami pouring water from the sink over his wound.

"He's beautiful…" She said in a practically inaudible voice.

"What?" Togami asked, turning around.

"Nothing! I need to put this stuff of your wound, that's what I said!"

"Oh. Alright." Togami sat back down on the island and Fukawa hastily began putting on the antibiotic cream and the bandages. Her fingers daintily swept the bandages across his skin. She's adorable… Togami thought. He suddenly began to wonder when the last time he had found something adorable was. After a second he remembered that his older sister Naomi and her husband had brought their four year old daughter to the Togami family holiday party, and he had commented on how adorable the daughters little brunette curls were. He began to think back. The party was on December 28.

"What day is today?"

"Wednesday, May 5." Fukawa immediately replied from the sink where she had put his shirt to soak in soapy water.

It's been over four months, then.

"You're honestly lucky she didn't stab the bone, you'd need real medical attention, then. I'll take the jacket to the cleaners later and make up something about a bar fight…" Fukawa gazed absentmindedly at the wound, her stutter gone. She probably distances herself, Togami thought, in order to keep herself from panicking.

"Thank you. Could I lay down? I saw a couch in a room branching off from the hall."

"Huh?" Fukawa said, her head tilting up from where she was washing the shirt. Togami assumed she wasn't used to other people being around her, as it was clear she lived alone.

"Umm… a-actually there's a-a bed in my office, i-if you want to sleep in my room w-with the down comforter, you're we-welcome to, though! I would sleep on the couch of course, that would be completely scandalous if I was to do so!"

"It's alright." Togami replied. "I can sleep on the spare bed. If I'm not wrong, I'm still a prisoner."

"N-no, you're a g-guest. I promise. I'm taking a lot of allergy medicine, s-so she won't show up… just make sure to lock the door, just in case…"

Fukawa dipped her head and showed Togami up a single flight of steps to a door. The stairs stopped at this door, and Fukawa used a special key around her neck to unlock it. She took off the necklace and handed it back to Togami, avoiding eye contact. He surmised it was because she was nervous, had self esteem issues, or both. Most likely both.

"This is my workplace…" Fukawa told him, opening the door. "If you could please be careful not to mess up the order, I would be appreciative."

The room Fukawa opened the door to was a very sunny attic work space. There was a bedroom area in the back, connected to a terrace through a glass sliding door, curtains hung next to it to block out the light. There was a computer and a typewriter on two desks near a skylight, and several stacks of notebooks as tall as his host-slash-captor. Books were flung to the floor, and lots of messes covered every inch of that three-fourths of the attic.

On Togami's fourth, however, it was very clean and tidy. Not a single thing was out of place; everything was perfect.

"I'm an author…" Fukawa said, flipping through a notebook, and placing it back on the stack it came from. "Y-you can read anything in these notebooks, as a consolation p-prize for being tied up… And please don't tell my landlord about that I really don't want to get kicked out of this place… A-and if you do read anything, could you make sure to put it back right where you found it? And a-also I'll bring up food at nine a.m., twelve thirty in the afternoon, and six p.m., and if I haven't brought food a-at those times exactly, assume I-I'm her, and lock the door and hide. I have a hiding place back here she d-doesn't know about." Fukawa pointed to a fortress of notebooks. "A-any questions?" She said, beginning to bite the pad of her thumb.

Her eyes continued to drift towards her guest's exposed chest, but, reminding herself that she was an absolute filthy, disgusting, terrible, shameless slut for doing so, forced her eyes to stay focusing on his face, which was just as attractive as his abs.

"You said you were an author. Anything I might have read?" Togami asked, looking around at the notebooks. There were at least one thousand, so, if push came to shove, he would be busy if he was stuck in here for a while.

"Um… I don't t-think you would have read it… but my name de plume is Midori Akihara…"

"Really? I've read all of those books. I find them an interesting gateway into women's minds." Togami said, turning around. A bright pink blush had overcome Fukawa's face.

"W-wow… Th-thank you… I-I have a new book coming out that my publisher just okay-ed the other day… It d-doesn't even have cover art, but you c-can read it if you want…" Fukawa pulled out a chest with a padlock on it, and took a key out from her bra padding, unlocking the chest. She pulled a three hundred page manuscript out of it, and set it neatly next to the typewriter.

"Thank you, I'll make sure to read it." Fukawa's blush became redder.

"I-I should go…"

"Wait. Is there a bathroom up here?"

"Umm… yes. B-but let me clean it before you use it." Fukawa went into the bathroom and violently slammed the door shut.

Togami began looking around at the notebooks. He plucked one from the third large stack and opened it to a random page.

"… led me on. I guess I should have been expecting it from someone like him. He was such a butthead, but…"

Togami flipped to the first page and notice the notebook was from Fukawa's third grade year. He pulled one off of the fourth stack. Her fourth grade year. Togami found it almost impossible to comprehend. Each stack was as tall as he was, and they only took up one year of writing? There were some stacks that were smaller than the basic ones, and he noticed quickly that those were even more notebooks from the same year. The need for second stacks began in Fukawa's sixth grade year, and the need for a third stack began in her eighth grade year. There was a stack and a half for tenth grade, which didn't follow the pattern, so Togami assumed she was a second year high school student like himself.

Togami finally began to realize he knew where Fukawa's uniform was from. It was the female uniform from his high school. It surprised him greatly that Fukawa was able to afford such expensive schooling, especially with such a dangerous condition. He wondered if perhaps she could afford it because of her novels, or if Genocider Syo made an appearance asking for monetary support before murdering someone. Whatever the reason, Togami didn't bother to think about it for more than a minute. He ran his fingers through his hair and picked up another notebook.

"11/3—

Today in English the seating chart was changed because of Mondo Oowada and Leon Kuwata shoving mechanical pencil lead in each other's noses at the back of the class. I was moved behind Byakuya Togami in an effort to put Kuwata near the front of the class. Togami-kun doesn't know I'm even alive, or if he does, he does a remarkable job of hiding it.

"11/4—

Today, I asked Togami-kun for a pencil. He gave one to me, and I was so happy he acknowledged me I broke the led four times and had to continue to ask Kyouko Kirigiri, who I'm positive works for the police, for her pencil sharpener.

"11/5—

Today Togami-kun's hand brushed mine while passing back essays. I got an A, and I managed to catch a glimpse of the A- on Togami-kun's paper. I'm an author, but I still expected him to get a better grade than I did.

11/6—

Today I didn't go to school, since it's Saturday. She murdered someone else; a very cute boy from the supermarket checkout. I feel horrible, this is the twenty-first time it's happened.

11/7—

Today was Sunday, and all I managed to do was write another few pages, but I'm not happy with it, and I'll be deleting them in the morning.

She left another pair of thumb bones in the attic bathroom today, as well. I don't know who they're from this time."

Togami closed the notebook. He'd read too much as it stood, he didn't think he should read more. Thumb bones, he thought. Why would Syo leave Fukawa thumb bones?

At that moment, Fukawa exited the bathroom with a large plastic garbage bag.

"Oh, h-hello." She said before rushing downstairs.

Togami walked into the bathroom. The walls were painted with dried blood, bloodied scissors lay everywhere. The shower was clean, as well as the inside of the sink, where running water could easily get to it. There was a window in the bathroom, but it was so caked with blood no light came in. The room gave Togami chills, but it was possible it could be due to the fact that he still wasn't wearing a shirt.

"O-oh my gosh pl-please don't look in there!" Fukawa screamed, running inside with a bucket of soapy water and slamming the door.

Togami knocked twice.

"Why do the walls appear caked in blood?"

"… Because that's how she makes them. Every time she comes back from… well… she wipes her hands on my wall and writes her stupid message again…"

"And what's all this about thumb bones?"

Fukawa flung the door open, face pale, eyes wide.

"Oh my god you read th-the only notebook I wanted you to ignore!"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Fukawa ran into the room and pulled the notebook from where it sat on the pile.

"I-if I thought I could pull out these pages without feeling sick, I would." She whispered down at the books.

Togami reentered the bathroom, staring at the dried blood covering every inch of the room.

And then Fukawa sneezed.