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Accidentally killed someone and immediately called up Matsukawa because obviously.

Of course he helped me hide the body. Then we had to go on the run. Dude literally dropped everything and became a fugitive with me. Ultimate homie.

We managed to stay under the radar in Japan for a couple months, but along the way we ended up having to kill more people that were after me for killing the first guys.

Eventually we just had to leave Japan entirely.

Okay so like here's what happened. I was between jobs, just a couple of years out of high school, no degree, sleeping on Matsukawa's couch because my parents kicked me out of theirs. I was DISTRAUGHT. Weed wasn't working the way it used to, so I, like a fool, decided to try to get my hands on something stronger.

This was a bad idea because 1) I didn't know shit or fuck about most drugs even though I talked a big game, 2) I was laughably inexperienced with drug deals and did not expect to get ripped off so blatantly right out the gate, and 3) I'm an idiot.

The deal itself went smoothly. I met the guy behind a building in the middle of the night, got the goods in exchange for a hefty chunk of the measly pocket change I had in my bank account, and we went about our business. Got home and experienced the best high of my life, so naturally I kept going back for more. At around the sixth or seventh transaction in as many weeks, I started to notice that I was not getting nearly as much of a buzz as I was paying for.

I confronted the dude about it, he got all testy, and all of a sudden there was a gun in his hand. Now picture this for me: a fledgling drug junkie desperate for a high with not a whole lot to lose. At the time I felt more like a cornered animal whose hand was being forced to act rather than some miserable misfit simply learning the hard lessons of life who could have easily backed away and taken the L. I did not take the L.

It happened really fast and the details are a little blurry to say the least, but to make a long story short, I shot him in the gut. I didn't even care about the drugs at that point. I had just killed a man. I fucking ran right back home to Matsukawa freaking the fuck out. I didn't even hesitate telling him what happened. He was pissed, of course, but surprisingly level-headed, all things considered. Like, he was frighteningly calm about the whole situation. He was more worried about the fact that I just left the body in a dingy back alley rather than the more glaring fact that I KILLED SOMEBODY.

So anyway he makes me take him back to the scene of the crime and then he just. Loads up the body in the trunk of his car and starts driving off into buttfuck nowhere. All the while I'm just sitting there like. I didn't know what to say. I felt like he should have been more pissed or whatever but he just looked normal as could be. Well, he did have this look in his eye that was honestly still just a little bit terrifying but he didn't say anything the entire time.

He took us out to some forested road and turned off down a path that looked like it very specifically was not made for cars, parked a little ways out, then just got out without a word and started dragging the body into the brush. At this point I was back to freaking out and I got out to follow him and just TRY to get him to say something, but he didn't open his mouth until we came up on a steep bank that led down to a river and he just. Dropped the body down there. Like he was taking out the trash.

Then he looked at me and said, "This never happened. You've never met that man before in your life. You stop doing drugs, you get clean, and if anybody asks where you were tonight, you say you were home all day so I can be your alibi."

LIKE BITCH WHAT??????

So that's what I did because like what the fuck else am I supposed to do?? It still weighed on me, though. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done and how Matsukawa had handled it. The cops never came around, but we did see the news report about a body discovered at the dam a couple cities away.

But the cops were the least of our worries. I had finally gotten a job at some diner or something and was taking a "smoke" break out back when a car pulled up and a couple guys started getting out. Somehow I knew they were after me and I just fucking bolted. The diner was in the rougher part of town, lots of alleys and uneven pavement and non-functional street lamps. They chased me for a few blocks in their car, always right around the next corner no matter how many turns I took to try to throw them off.

I definitely was not thinking straight while trying to get away from them, so maybe climbing the next ladder I saw in an alley that led up to the roof of the building wasn't my brightest idea ever. I made it about halfway up before the car appeared in the alley below and they got out to pursue me. They weren't shooting (yet), probably so as not to start drawing unwanted attention, which was a small blessing. But when I got to the top, I was basically trapped. They were coming up the ladder and I wasn't fucking Spider-Man so jumping across rooftops wasn't exactly in the cards.

I managed to kick off the first guy as they crested the top of the ladder and he fell directly on the hood of the car below, setting off the horn. There was still one guy left on the ladder and two more got out of the back of the car with guns in hand. I was so fucked.

I sent my phone's location to Matsukawa in a panic. There was no way I was getting through a coherent phone call, much less a coherent text message, so I just hoped and prayed he would get the idea.

I found a loose pipe of some sort and hid behind one of those big blocky things on rooftops, whatever they're called. All three men were on the roof then and I could hear them closing in. When the first one came around the corner, I managed to take out his fucking kneecaps with the pipe and then whacked him over the head while I had the chance. That gave me some time before the other two came rushing in.

Don't ask me how I avoided getting shot at first because I have no fucking idea. I knocked the gun out of one guy's hand and took cover again when the other one started shooting. The discarded gun was only a few feet away, but I didn't have any cover to go and grab it. I was playing cat and mouse with the two left for as long as I could before the sound of tires screeching came from the streets below. We weren't too far away from where I lived considering how far I'd run, so it was no wonder how Matsukawa managed to get there so quickly.

The distraction was just what I needed to lunge out from my hiding spot and clock the one who still had a gun over the head. The other guy looked like his hand was still injured, but he made a pass for one of the guns on the ground. Matsukawa, bless his goddamn soul, came up the ladder then and there were two gunshots. The last guy dropped like a bag of rocks.

Later, while we were speeding away from the scene in Matsukawa's car, I asked him where he got the gun and he casually explained that he took it from the drug dealer he'd helped dispose of a couple weeks ago. You know, since my fingerprints were all over it by then.

We got home and he told me to start packing and I was like??? What the fuck. He said we couldn't stay there. Someone could have seen me at the diner, or on that street, and it just wasn't safe.

Now up until this point Matsukawa had insisted on acting like everything was normal and that his best friend and roommate wasn't a murderer. Of course it had only been a matter of time before that wasn't feasible anymore, so unbeknownst to me, he had already come up with a contingency plan for a situation just such as this. We were both killers now, but Matsukawa definitely didn't seem as stressed out about it was I was. Yeah, he was a mortician and dealt with dead bodies all the time, but this was on a whole new level.

We stayed on the run in cheap motels and shit while we tried to figure out what to do from there. There was a warrant out for my arrest by that point because of course they found my fingerprints on that stupid fucking pipe we left behind. And the people who had come after me? They were in the goddamn Yakuza. We were doubly screwed.

Life was hard for a while. Oikawa and Iwaizumi kept trying to get in contact with us; no doubt they'd heard the news, but neither of us wanted to risk getting them involved. The next time we had an encounter with the Yakuza, we were ready. I did end up getting shot that time, and Matsukawa didn't hesitate to gun them down.

There were always police everywhere we went. We just couldn't get away from them. We had a few more close encounters, and then one night while we were hiding out in some shady inn planning our next move, I finally caved and called Oikawa without Matsukawa knowing. It was driving me nuts going completely off the radar while our friends worried their heads off about us. Oikawa was righteously pissed off, as he had every right to be, but he, too, expressed more worry for our well-being than anything else. By the end of the conversation, he had bought us both plane tickets to Argentina. Matsukawa wasn't very happy about the fact that I had contacted someone behind his back, but even he couldn't deny that getting out of the country was our best bet.

Surprisingly enough, this whole experience had brought us closer together than we had ever been. It was never any secret that there had always been something between us left unspoken, intimate moments we shared without ever addressing them after the fact, and there was some sick excitement in what we were doing that had led to frenzied, desperate tumbles in disgusting hotels and in the back of his car once or twice. We never bothered putting a label on it, but it was there.

I mean, come on. Who wouldn't get turned on watching a devastatingly attractive man kill people for you? I can't say I knew exactly what he saw in me on the other hand, but like hell was I going to question it. It was almost like he had just been waiting for an excuse to have me to himself.

Anyway. We went to Argentina and Oikawa set us up with a pretty sweet deal. Unsurprisingly, he had told Iwaizumi everything, and the night we flew in, he had us on video call to chew us out for our stupidity and recklessness, and then he chewed out OIKAWA for endangering himself by getting involved. None of us could deny that it was an extremely messy situation, and yeah, maybe Matsukawa and I were international fugitives now, but we were able to keep a low profile for a few years until things settled down in Japan.

We never risked moving back, though. Argentina had become a home for us, and Iwaizumi came to visit on occasion. He never really looked at me or Matsukawa anymore, and if he did, he had this look in his eyes like he didn't know who we were anymore. It hurt, a little, but it was to be expected. Oikawa, at least, still treated us like his old friends, even if he were maybe a little overly nice sometimes and it felt as if he were actually worried we'd do something heinous if he stepped out of line. Needless to say, nothing was ever the same, but Matsukawa and I were never caught and were able to live out our lives in relative normalcy. As normal as could be for two criminals who had gotten away with murder on numerous occasions and maybe didn't always live strictly by the law anymore.

Some random tidbits of stuff: we thought it would be both disgustingly cute and stupidly ironic if, instead of paying for a slab of concrete to imprint our hands in, we just found a nice strip of freshly poured road pavement and imprinted our hands there instead.