Kicking and Screaming [Shinji, n!Kazuo, m!Kazuo]

The car ride was quiet, to say the least. Novel-verse Kazuo Kiriyama, being much wealthier than his counterpart, picked up Shinji by chauffeur for their venture. He sat in the passenger seat while Shinji sat in the back, though he had said they would switch places for the ride to the doctor's so that Shinji wouldn't be in the back seat with movie-verse Kiriyama - who was a very, very different can of worms than the slick-haired youth presently seated at the front.

For anyone else, it might have been awkward seated in a car with someone you had hunted and killed like an animal in cold blood. But for Kiriyama, it really had been in utterly cold blood - and for that reason, he didn't find it awkward in the least. He didn't find anything awkward. For Shinji, however, it was probably a very different story - but Kiriyama was indifferent to this. Although he was aware Shinji may have been some amount of uncomfortable, he paid it no mind, and made no attempt to alleviate the feeling with any form of conversation.

The house they came to was small and rather worn-down, in a cluttered and dingy neighborhood. Their car was parked on the street. "... Stay here, Mimura." Kiriyama instructed monotonously. He gave the other boy no time to protest; no sooner had he stepped out of the car and shut the door than the doors were locked to keep Shinji inside.

The well-dressed young man walked with his usual flawless grace toward the front door of the home. Despite lacking emotions, he appeared awfully fearless for approaching unarmed, considering the solitary, well-armed, and hostile resident inside.

Shinji Mimura was just downright irritated by the way Kiriyama was treating him. The young man left before he could even protest about his staying stuck in here. He leaned back and grit his teeth in annoyance. He wasn't supposed to be an impatient child waiting from the backseat. He had not coordinated with him about a chauffeur either. This was his own idea, wasn't it? He should be the one making the plans. He wasn't just here for the company. That was Kiriyama's job. Or least to keep him controlled when they arrive at the hospital.

If Shinji could have done that himself too, he wouldn't have asked for his help. He furrowed his brows, refusing to look at what was going on beyond his window. How did he get him to help in the first place? For what it's worth, it was Kiriyama who had truly killed him. Kazuo was all a 'spur-of-the-moment' incident. And it was Shinji---himself who got killed back then.

Suddenly upset at those hard, cold facts, he brushed those thoughts away. "Forget about what happened in the past," he thought. "...There's no room for it in the future." ...and that's how it went.

Occupying his mind with other thoughts, Shinji began to think of their agenda for today. Who would have guessed he'd soon be riding in the same car with both of his murderers sitting at the back? Wicked plans about ending their lives subconsciously ran through Shinji's mind. "Tamper with the wiring, loosen the breaks, jump off the car in time it falls over the cliff---NO. Stop." he groaned and ran his palm down his face. "Program's over, third man. Get over it."

He sighed, setting his thoughts straight. Perhaps Kiriyama was merely concerned about his counterpart.

He shook his head. Another thought quickly discarded. Kiriyama had no emotions. A completely different disorder that Kazuo didn't have. Sometimes Shinji wondered that maybe it was Kiriyama who needed treatment--not Kazuo. Or maybe they both needed to be examined. Both were active participants of the Program and both had the most kills. They were capable of killing anyone in cold blood. Especially their classmates.

Clicking his tongue, he turned his attention to the window. What was going on outside Kazuo's house now? He had full trust that Kiriyama could suppress whatever retaliations Kazuo might put up. Kiriyama didn't need his help. It ticked Shinji a little at how independent he could be. He felt inferior next to him and that got on his nerve a little.

What was he doing here if Kiriyama could handle all this on his own, anyway?

There was silence for a number of minutes - maybe ten, max - before a sound could be heard if one were standing close enough to the house. A chorus of inconsistent thumps, sometimes in rapid succession, and a couple of sudden, harder impacts... the sounds of a scuffle.

A short-lived one. The noises lasted barely two minutes before all went quiet again. Another few minutes, and the front door opened. Kiriyama stepped carefully out with his lanky counterpart thrown over his shoulder, apparently unconscious. He shut the door gently behind him, then turned to walk back to the car, coming around the opposite side of Shinji - at which point the chauffeur unlocked the car doors - to open the door there and swiftly shift Kazuo into his arms to set him in the back seat. Every one of Kiriyama's movements were like that of a trained athlete rehearsing a routine that had been practiced for months; perfect, smooth, and flowing. He even went so far as to buckle the wild-haired youth's seatbelt before shutting him in.

Kazuo appeared altogether unharmed. His eyes were shut, his frame as lax as a doll's. A faintly troubled expression hovered over his face. No bruises or wounds suggested he had been in much of a fight at all.

Kiriyama next came around the other side of the car, waiting for Shinji to get out and move to the passenger seat before taking his place in the back. As soon as the doors were shut and the engine turned on, his hollow gaze studied his counterpart briefly, but soon shifted to stare out the window. It didn't look like he was any more intent on conversation than he had been on the way there.

Shinji saw him approach the car. A little more than shocked to see the unconscious Kazuo hung over Kiriyama's shoulder like dead weight. He expected no less from from the latter though. He was best at everything. In grades, talent, sports. He was far better than him and Shinji knew he could not compete. But he didn't give up.

He left from the other side of the car as soon as Kazuo was buckled up. He hated to admit it, but Shinji couldn't help feeling impressed. It was a wise idea to have Kiriyama on his side regarding this matter. "The hell did you do to him," he asked without expecting an answer while sitting himself in the front seat.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes. Kazuo would never forgive him for this. Then again, Shinji wasn't asking for it. Kiriyama might as well have some fault over it too. These thoughts altogether distracted him from the fact that he still did have both his killers seated from behind. They haven't changed in the slightest either. "It's now or never," he thought to himself, refusing to turn around for the hidden fear of Kazuo regaining consciousness later on.

"I used a pressure point to harmlessly render him unconscious." Kiriyama replied with the usual unnerving calm, not taking his eyes off the window. Knocking Kazuo out cold was easier than restraining or sedating him. However, it was far from even a semi-permanent solution; Kazuo would be awake long before they reached the clinic. Kiriyama came prepared with a back-up plan for if his wild-haired counterpart continued to be uncooperative, though.

Which proved inevitable. Just a couple of minutes into the car ride, and a drowsy sigh drifted out of the unconscious youth. He stirred, shifting his head slightly as his brows knit and a disconcerted expression crossed his face. Dark eyes blinked open dazedly... before tension ripped through Kazuo's lanky frame and his eyes shot open, alarm pouring into his features. Reflexively he scrambled against the seatbelt, pinning himself back into his corner of the seat. His panicked gaze darted between the window and his expressionless counterpart across from him. His chest started to heave with the beginnings of hyperventilating.

Kiriyama turned to his alter when the boy awoke. In contrast to Kazuo's panic, Kiriyama gazed at him deadpan. "Please calm down." He requested flatly.
Kazuo did not look keen do so. Fury billowed into his dark eyes; his breath came swift and hard. "F-" But he froze then, gaze locked onto a third boy in the passenger seat. Not just any third boy. 'The Third Man', Shinji Mimura.

Kazuo's hand dove for the buckle of his seatbelt, but Kiriyama was already leaning over to latch onto his wrists. Kazuo struggled furiously - his eyes wild, venomous, and boring into Shinji with lethal tunnel vision - but his counterpart was quick to give his arm a sudden twist in the wrong direction. Nothing harmful, just a threatening hold. A sharp breath, and Kazuo froze again. The backseat was quiet but for his panicked breathing for a moment.
"Mr. Kiriyama, if you don't calm down, I will have to sedate you." Flawlessly cool and monotone as always.
Hatred wrought a vehement scowl through Kazuo's features. He spared his counterpart only a short glare before locking his eyes onto Mimura again, hellfire burning within them. His breathing slowly calmed somewhat.
Tentatively, Kiriyama released the other and began to pull away.

The wild-haired youth leapt back into action seconds after being released, unbuckling and scrambling toward the passenger seat where his target was seated -- but he didn't make it. Kiriyama had also unbuckled, and grabbed his bloodthirsty counterpart into a chokehold to drag him back into the backseat... with a cloth held under his nose.

A fresh flood of alarm seeped into Kazuo's face, but it was too late to try calming his hard breathing now. A few seconds, and his eyes rolled back before drifting shut, the rest of him falling limp in his alter's arms. Kiriyama calmly pulled the rag of chloroform away and set the other boy back into his seat. That would hold him the rest of the ride, hopefully - and into the clinic if necessary. Kiriyama also came prepared to wake him up if the need arose.

The sleek-haired Kiriyama neatly buckled his counterpart back in, then re-buckling his own seatbelt. He seemed about to turn back for the window again, but paused, gazing blankly toward the front seats. "Apologies for the disturbance."

The chauffeur looked a bit nervous, but gave a subtle nod in acknowledgement.

"...Holy shi--!" Shinji's eyes widen as he suddenly flinches from his seat, slightly thankful he hadn't buckled up yet. Kazuo would have had his neck wrung for sure. Kiriyama might have saved him either way, but he wasn't taking the chance of having Kazuo's hands around his neck. The day was just starting. He can't afford to die now.

"Son of a bitch..." he swore quietly, feeling his heart race. He couldn't tear his eyes off of Kazuo now. He had to be more careful. That was way too close. He turned his attention to his counterpart who made a very wise move and prepared chloroform beforehand in case a situation like this would ever come up. He didn't look surprised. Shinji thought about it and he realized he never looked surprised.

He was his counterpart after all. It was only necessary that he knew how Kazuo would behave. Shinji had seen through it, but he knew he shouldn't overly depend on him. Kiriyama may be more than perfect to the eyes of many, but he was still human.

The moment Kazuo was suppressed, Shinji took a deep breath and calmed down. He leaned back on his seat once he knew it was going to be safe. But he wasn't feeling comfortable anymore. He wondered why he was actually like that in the first place. Keeping in frosty, as he always used to say.

"That was close," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks for the help, Kiriyama." he closed his eyes, his palm sliding down his face. He was thanking his murderer. And he actually meant it.

What was this world turning him into?

For all the manners and politeness he seemed to exhibit, Kiriyama offered no 'your welcome', and instead went silent again for the remainder of the car ride. His empty eyes and doll-like face were turned to the window but for periodic glances at his unconscious counterpart. Kazuo appeared to rest more or less peacefully, and didn't stir again through the ride.

So it remained as they arrived at the clinic. It was a small, private office, but no less professional. Kiriyama got out of the car to come around for his alter's door, carefully scooping up the boy to tote over his shoulder again. He waited for Shinji to exit the vehicle before striding for the clinic entrance. A smaller man on his way out of the clinic eyed the trio, particularly the sleek-haired Kiriyama with what appeared to be an unconscious peer over his shoulder.

Inside, Kiriyama gently set his counterpart in a seat in the waiting area. "Wait here with him," he instructed Shinji, as calm and even as ever. "Shout for me if he wakes." He turned to approach the front desk, taking and unfolding various papers from his pocket that must have been involved in Kazuo's identification and/or medical history. He spoke briefly with the woman at the desk, his face unchanging all the while; he offered her papers and identification as necessary, signed a few things as necessary, and finally collected everything again to return to where his alter and Shinji were sitting. He sat down quietly, sitting with the flawless, confident posture of a CEO and folding his hands in his lap neatly.

It was just a couple of minutes after Kiriyama sat down that the wild-haired youth beside him began to stir. A disconcerted look crossed Kazuo's features, and he shifted somewhat as if trying to sit up better. Dark eyes flickered open. His hand moved to knead his forehead like he may have had either a long night or a headache or both. But as he grew progressively more awake, he sat up to full attentiveness, eyes darting about like a panicked animal's. His hands tensed on the armrests of his seat; his frame bristled, and his breath began to pick up. Still, he retrained a somewhat better calm than he had in the car, and for the moment appeared so preoccupied identifying where he was that he did not yet pay any mind to Shinji.

His gaze moved for the door fleetingly, but then eyed his counterpart and darkened into a bitter glowering - albeit not without some nervousness sifting through his face. The tension in his frame and the way he subtly writhed in his seat like a restless child made it clear Kazuo was not comfortable here, and anxiety continued to creep into his expression no matter his efforts to look angry.
"Please behave, Mr. Kiriyama," cautioned his alter coolly. "I would prefer not to use the chloroform again." Kiriyama did not seem to worry about lowering his voice at all, possibly because he was already quite soft-spoken.
Kazuo leered at his counterpart, slouching in his seat like he wanted to melt into the floor, though his grip on the armrests was unwavering. He glowered at the rest of the room... but avoided eye contact with anybody, and avoided looking at Shinji. His breathing was short and shallow like the beginnings of hyperventilating, easily heard in the quiet of the waiting area.

It seemed like everything was done for him. Kiriyama never fails to surprise. No longer expecting anything less, Shinji breathed a sigh of relief and took a seat across theirs. The moment Kiriyama mentioned about using chloroform if ever need arose, it worried Shinji a little. Didn't too much of it damage one's health?

He was certain Kiriyama had already considered that though. Then again, he knew he could probably care less about the life of another. Shinji's mind began to ache. He was thinking of this far too much. Now wasn't the time for debating over the risk of Kazuo's life.

Shinji decided to ignore Kazuo's obvious resentment for being sent here. It was far too easy. Kiriyama made it look so easy, Shinji couldn't help feeling jealous. Again. It got to his nerves but that's as far as he would let it go.

A man in a white coat opened the door to his examination room. Shinji assumed he was the doctor who would be attending to Kazuo's mental health. "Hey--um, you're going to fix him, right?" he stood up, depending on Kiriyama to look after the soon-to-be patient. "...or did he tell you what was needed to be done?" Shinji pointed at Kiriyama with his thumb, his eyes still focused on the supposed doctor.

It felt crazy. Kiriyama was a million leagues ahead of him. Was there a need to get that signal of OK from him, too? Ridiculous.

Shinji knew he'd have to make up for that somehow.

"Kiriya-" The man in the white coat who stepped into the waiting area was interrupted when Shinji called after him. The presumed doctor blinked, his eyes flitting from Shinji to the two boys gestured to - lingering between the two Kiriyamas in particular. "... I assume two of you three are called Kiriyama Kazuo, and one of them is the patient I'm seeing today." He replied without immediately getting to either Shinji's questions.

Kiriyama and his counterpart exchanged glances. The sleek-haired youth stood from his seat, adjusting his blazer and dress shirt neatly. "I am the Kiriyama you spoke to on the phone," he stated flatly. "This is the Kiriyama you will be examining." He gestured to his seated alter, whose venomous and yet anxious gaze continued to flicker nervously between everybody.

The doctor studied the two boys. "Ah." His attention shifted to Shinji then. "And..." A glance to his clipboard. "Mimura Shinji. I was informed you would be tagging along." Hesitantly, he gazed to Kazuo, lowering his voice somewhat. "I was also warned Mr. Kiriyama may be a bit mentally... troubled," his eyes returned to Shinji. "But I am not here to 'fix' him, Mr. Mimura. I'm not a psychiatrist. As I was told, this is only a basic physical health exam."

At the doctor's mentioning of his mental state, Kazuo shot an arrestingly dark look at his counterpart. But Kiriyama stared on at the doctor blankly, unfazed.
The doctor cleared his throat to dispel the short silence. "Anyways, I am Dr. Takahiro." A short bow in greeting, which Kiriyama returned briefly. "If you'll follow me." He turned for his examination room.
Kiriyama's attention finally shifted down for his counterpart, who had not stood to bow and was not moving from his seat. "Mr. Kiriyama." There was no hint of threat, nor any parental sternness in his tone whatsoever. A plain, stated name.
Brows furrowed into a deeply troubled expression, Kazuo glowered as he slowly rose from his seat. When he still did not step forward for the examination room, Kiriyama took his arm - but panic suddenly seeped into Kazuo's gaze then, and his breath picked up. As if reflexively, Kiriyama let go, and Kazuo immediately settled back into glaring around and looking nervous. He swallowed hard... but finally trailed ahead into the doctor's room, closely followed by his deadpan alter.

The doctor was folding over a paper on his clipboard. He gestured for the examination table. "If the patient Mr. Kiriyama would have a seat there, we'll go over some questions first before we begin the exam."
Kazuo hesitated, but moved reluctantly to sit on the small table. Anxiety still permeated his features as his eyes darted about to take in the room and its contents.
The questions were basic, and answered by Kiriyama whenever there was more than a yes or no answer required.
"Do you smoke?" A slow, small shake of the head. Kazuo kept his eyes trained on the floor as he answered, and his anxious expression did not waver.
"Are you sexually active?" A slightly quicker shake of the head.
"Any past medical history or diagnoses I should be aware of?"
"I don't believe so," answered Kiriyama. "Only what I... theorized over the phone."
"No physical ailments you're aware of? Asthma? Other heart or lung conditions?"
"I don't believe so."

A few other questions were quickly answered or dismissed by Kiriyama. "Alright..." Dr. Takahiro set his clipboard on the counter behind him. "Next we'll start the examination. I'm going to take a look at your eyes, mouth, and ears first. It shouldn't hurt."

Kazuo did not look reassured in the least.