The white baseball bat smashed into Nagumo's face. The impact started as a wet thud but then the muted crack of bones shattering filled the air. From Ozaki's vantage point, he saw Nagumo's cheek bulge out to the point of obscuring his eye before the flesh burst open and blood exploded from around the bat.
Ozaki froze at the sight of his friend being smashed. His hand shook, the aborted attempt to stop Sudo from hitting his friend frozen at the point of impact. The word “Stop!” hung in the air, but it was too late.
Sudo's baseball bat continued to swing through and Nagumo's slender form was plucked off the ground and thrown back. It left an silvery arc through the air as Sudo stepped into the blow.
Stunned, Ozaki couldn't turn to watch his friend hit the ground, but every crunch against the wharf fired a bolt through his body. He flinched at the scrape of flesh on concrete. He could picture Nagumo flipping over and hitting the ground again and again.
When Nagumo's body finally stopped moving, Ozaki almost threw up.
Sudo pulled back with a snarl on his face. He turned to Ozaki and started to say something, but a wet groan interrupted him.
Ozaki watched as Sudo turned to look past him. The gang member's eyes widened with shock.
A heartbeat later, he heard Nagumo staggering to his feet. Ozaki couldn't turn around, his feet were rooted into the ground. He tried to think about his actions, how he would stop Sudo from striking again, but the man in the white trench coat made no effort to approach Nagumo.
Nagumo groaned again, a wet sound that should have come from a corpse not a human. His feet shuffled against the concrete. It was uneven and unsteady. If Ozaki was in the ring, he would be waiting for the referee to pull him aside. But, they weren't in a boxing ring and there was no one to stop Nagumo.
No one moved as Nagumo shuffled. It took Ozaki a moment to realize that he was moving away from Sudo and himself. But, the looks on the other's faces were turning into grins of glee. The look of the gathered Satan's Angels brought a wave of worry.
When the girl with the video recorder brought it up and the recording light turned on, the spell was broken. Ozaki inhaled and the coppery stench of Nagumo's blood flooded his lungs. He reflexively coughed and licked his lips. When he tasted blood, he coughed and gagged.
A gasp rippled through the gang members. There were still looks of shock and surprise, but it was quickly turning into a sickening wave of anticipation.
Ozaki's breath rattled in his lungs as he turned around. His shoes scuffed on the concrete. Each step felt like moving through syrup; he wasn't sure if he wanted to look or not.
He forced himself at the last moment, spinning on his heel. He held his breath, unsure of what he was going to see.
Ozaki stopped just as Nagumo's feet disappeared over the railing of the bridge. A smear of blood on the metal was the only indication that his friend had been there.
Behind Ozaki, some of the gang members started to cheer but then everyone grew silent.
Out of sight, Nagumo's body hit something with a wet splat.
Ozaki winced at the noise. His held breath burned in his lungs as he walked over to the side. His mind was dull from shock, but he had to look.
Sudo swore loudly. “Shit! Let's get out of here!” There was a scrape of shoes on the concrete as everyone else ran for their cars.
Ozaki's hands shook as he grabbed the railing. He almost threw up as he leaned over the railing and peered down.
Nagumo had fallen onto a steel girder. The metal spike had punched through his back right below the ribs. Already, a dark stain spread out from his shirt around the metal. Nagumo's body twitched as he tried to pull his head up, but then he slumped back and stopped moving.
The gang's cars roared to life and there was a screech of tires as they pulled away.
Ozaki couldn't move from his spot. His hands felt like they were welded to the railing as he stared down.
In a matter of seconds, Nagumo was dead.
Ozaki struggled to wrap his mind around it. He stared down at his friend's corpse. He always thought he was the one who was going to die first, with the doctors saying he only had months to live.
Nagumo was the healthy one. A pervert, true, but he was going to outlive everyone once he found a girl willing to accept him.
Unable to form words and unwilling to truly admit that Nagumo was dead, Ozaki looked over his shoulder toward the others.
There was no one. Even Akemi, the unconscious gang leader, had been picked up. The only thing left was Ozaki's motorcycle.
He turned back and stared down at Nagumo's body. He prayed that his friend would somehow wake up and recover, but nothing happened except that the stain continued to soak through Nagumo's shirt.
Bile rose in Ozaki's throat. He peeled his hands off the railing and stepped back. “No. No, he can't be… he can't be…” Sweat prickled his brow and he shook violently.
Turning around, he raced for his motorcycle.